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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year ago

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Connection

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: Mike makes good on a promise to take you somewhere nice for the weekend.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI!!! (I know, it's real!) fingering, oral (m receiving), (protected) p-in-v sex (spooning, doggy and proneboning, god, these sluts don't even look at each other), a little too-soon-moment (though not the one you would expect) and Mike being silly and referring to himself as a horny slut.

Now that you're all thoroughly warned... Enjoy!

A/N: Alright! I had this done DAYS ago. Weeks, possibly, at this point... But I kept forgetting to post it because uni and life and laksdjfalsdkf why must it be like this?

This is formally the last part of the Coffee + Cats saga. I know, sad right? (I'm a little sad.) And I just want to thank everyone who's followed along for their love and support and the overwhelming amount of cat pictures and videos I have received! ❤️ A very special thanks to @geralts-yenn for putting the idea of barista!Mike in my brain that marked the beginning of this incredible journey of cockblocking Mike.

And because I am me, and I had such a blast writing this... Is it a surprise to anyone that I have 2 bonus chapters/drabbles planned?

If you like this fic, please let me know 🥰 and reblog so that others may see it too! <3

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @mayloma @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @peyton-warren @livisss @ylva-syverson @sweetandgentlecreature

You’ll have to take Mike’s enthusiastic lips latching on to your neck for an answer, because you’re fairly sure it’s the only one you’re going to get. As he sucks, licks and nibbles on your skin, his hand travels down your body.

You don’t mind that this is where you win: Mike’s patience runs out as soon as he feels how wet you are, and you can’t help but chuckle when he softly swears under his breath. He immediately slips two fingers into your pussy, curling them up to find that sweet spot that makes you see stars. It only takes you seconds to figure out that he’s good, paying close attention to your reactions, teasing you with soft kisses to your neck and those nibbles on your earlobe that make you go just a little wild. Apparently, he also knows that ‘don’t stop’ means ‘keep doing exactly that’ and not ‘please change your approach to the most violent thing imaginable’.

For a minute, you think you hate him for his skill, but how could you ever really hate a guy who makes you cum like that, within minutes?

“Fuck, Mike,” you sigh as you melt into his arms, your walls still clenching around his fingers, “that was amazing.”

If it hadn’t already become glaringly obvious throughout the day, it would have been impossible to miss now: Mike thrives on praise and validation. He contently buries his face in your neck, humming softly as he keeps kissing you – he’s truly adorable, and sweet, and kind, and handsome, and… he deserves a reward.

Sharp teeth sink into his soft bottom lip when your fingers wrap around his cock. Now you’re the one not wasting any time, giving him a few gentle, slow strokes before dragging his sweatpants down as far as you can while you get on your knees. Mike is right there with you, helpfully offering assistance in the ‘getting him naked’-department.

With a grin on your face that you don’t doubt is entirely unsexy, you drag his sweatpants all the way down – still helped along by Mike, who helpfully scoots up a little – and sit in between his legs. Carefully, you lick the salty bead of precum off the tip of his cock – it’s enough to make his abs twitch, making you chuckle. Then, you lock your eyes on his and revel in Mike’s blatant, wide-eyed shock as you swallow him all the way down without hesitation.

“F-fuck, Sweetcheeks!” It’s almost a protest, the way he sputters and stammers something about taking it easy. He doesn’t want to cum, he wants you to feel good, this was supposed to be about you. Yawn. You are enjoying this, does he know that? “Baby,” you say, a warning hidden in your tone, “shush. I love doing this, especially if you get a little loud for me, okay?”

It doesn’t look like he believes you; he looks at you with confusion and suspicion in his eyes. By now he really should have caught on to the idea that you’re nothing like those horrible exes he has�� Right? Maybe you should just ignore that look in his eyes and keep going. Would that work? Eh… Only one way to find out.

You slowly move up and down his length, reveling in the delightful moans that escape Mike. He’s easy to tease. His soft whines as your mouth leaves his cock and your hand takes its place while you lightly kiss the inside of his thighs are proof of that. The featherlight touch of your lips makes him squirm and beg to take him into your mouth again, but just as you’re about to do that, he stops you and pulls you up until he can plant a firm kiss on your lips again.

“I want you,” he mutters against your lips, “right now.”

“You wanted me twenty minutes ago,” you chuckle. Before you know it, you’re on your stomach, with Mike pinning you to the mattress.

“I wanted you six weeks ago.” He bites your earlobe, making you shriek. When he does it again, it sends a shiver down your spine. “Besides, I don’t think I’m the only horny slut in this room.”

“Oh, please refer to yourself as a horny slut more often!” you laugh as you move against his slacking grip on your wrist, taking his hand in yours.

“Yeah, yeah, I promise,” Mike says before kissing your neck, “now turn around, please?”

“Actually,” you say hesitantly, “I’m kinda comfortable like this.” Mike doesn’t seem to think that the depraved thought you considered it to be, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. As he pulls you closer, you feel his cock against your ass, and you wiggle your hips against him. To tease him? You’re beyond that at this point. For good measure? To make him finally hurry the fuck up? You know what? That last one actually sounds plausible… And it makes Mikey’s comment from before one hundred percent right: He’s not the only horny slut in the room.

“Forgive me for asking,” Mike mumbles, “but do I have to grab a condom, or…”

Now, the correct answer to that question is ‘yes’. “I’m on the pill.” The correct answer to that question is ‘yes’. “And I’m clean.” The correct answer to that question is ‘yes’. “And if you are, too, then…” The. Correct. Answer. To. That. Question. Is. ‘Yes’. “But the real question is…” Oh, just tell the man to grab protection! “Are you going to last without?” Mean and unnecessary…

And somehow incredibly effective. “I feel that shouldn’t be the primary concern,” Mike chuckles, with no sign of embarrassment to his voice, “but it’s a valid point, unfortunately.”

You whine when the warmth of his body disappears for a second, and you watch Mike as he pulls a box of condoms from the drawer in the nightstand.

“You’re fast,” you laugh when it only takes him a few short moments to put the thing on.

“I feel ‘years of practice’ would be totally the wrong answer here,” Mike says as he joins you on the bed again, spooning you like he did before. “For what it’s worth, now that I’m here with you, I regret everything else I’ve ever done.”

“Don’t,” you whisper. “I’m just glad I’m here with you now. After everything else. You know… Those years and years of practice.” The chuckle you let out turns into a soft gasp as Mike lines up behind you.

“Finally here with you,” he corrects you as he slowly pushes forward, leaving you gasping, moaning louder in his arms as he inches his way into your drenched core. Mike softly kisses your neck and shoulders until he stops moving, then nestles comfortably against your back for a while. “This is comfy.”

You have to agree; it’s extremely comfy and so, so sweet, and you are so crazy about this silly guy and… and you’re completely impatient to finally feel him move. He laughs triumphantly when you tell him that. “I told you I was going to make you beg for it.”

He did. He really did exactly that and now that he’s kept his promise… Only he doesn’t feel he’s kept his promise just yet, because what you just did wasn’t quite begging as far as he’s concerned. Oh, for fuck’s sake! “Fuck me, Mike. Please!”

“That’s more like it,” he says – no doubt with a massive grin on his stupid, stupid face. When he moves, you gasp loudly. He’s rough, possessive, digging his fingers into your hips, and his teeth briefly into your shoulder. In no time, you’re turned onto your stomach, and he leaves you for a second, dragging you onto your knees before slamming into you again from behind, a hand between your shoulder blades pressing your chest down onto the mattress as he grinds his hips into you.

Holding back your moans is impossible – and unnecessary. There’s no one around to hear you. Even the neighbors aren’t within earshot! And any unlucky passerby’s that manage to hear what you’re up to are likely trespassing, anyway, so screw them. Almost every moan, squeal and whine makes Mike chuckle softly under his breath.

You shriek in surprise when Mike stops and pulls your legs out from under you, and he flops on top of you before littering your neck and shoulders with kisses.

“Mikey!” you laugh when he starts what you first think is a game of footsie, somehow – it turns out he’s just trying to reposition legs, and you’re not helping.

When he finally manages, and slips back into you, you let out a long moan. There’s no reason to be disappointed because he’s slowed down. In fact, every move he makes feels like it’s exactly what you need – and you don’t have to say a word. It’s like…

“God, it’s like you were made for me, Sweetcheeks,” Mike moans into your ear. Yes. That’s exactly what it feels like. All of his insecurities about not being good enough for you seem to be gone now, and rightfully so.

“I love you.” No. What? You didn’t mean to say that – but that doesn’t mean you don’t mean what you say. Get it? Maybe ‘within six weeks of your first date, during the first time you have sex with the guy’ is a little early – but that doesn’t matter anymore because it’s out now. You can’t even convince yourself he didn’t hear it, because he freezes. Well… Not quite that. It’s a fairly recognizable stutter-y kind of movement, actually. So not only do you say something utterly stupid, but also at the worst possible moment.

“Impeccable timing, Sweetcheeks,” Mike laughs softly as he pulls out. “I know I’m kinda leaving you hanging here, but I need one tiny little moment, okay?” You reluctantly agree because he’s right, he does need a moment – not that he’s wrong about the other thing.

You use the time Mike spends in the bathroom to overthink everything, and by the time he gets back, you’ve almost managed to work yourself completely into hysteria.

“Babe,” Mike says as he crawls under the covers with you and wraps his arms around you. Your brief moment of meditative overthinking has made sure your heart is racing and you’re struggling to control your breath. “Come here, look at me.” His hand on the side of your face is reassuring, but you still can’t help but think you’ve fucked it all up. “I’ve never said this to any girl who wasn’t either my mom or a… cat,” he says softly, his voice a little unsteady. “I love you, too.”

#mike hellraiser #mike hellraiser fic #mike (hellraiser)#hellraiser mike #mike (hellraiser) x reader #hellraiser mike x reader #mikey x reader #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters #mike hellraiser smut

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riahlynn101 · 1 year ago

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Whumptober: Day Eleven - "You Said You'd Never leave." + You're a Liar."

Apologies for the slight delay in posting this :D!!

Takes place in the FNAF movie universe.

Trigger warnings: Implied/referenced kidnapping and murder, children in distress, and grief.

Thank you, guys, for all the support <333 It's much appreciated!

Small side note: These prompts come from two different days (10 and 9, respectively).

For the last three nights, it’s been the same exact routine.

Mike arrives at the pizzeria.

He does a five-minute patrol.

He sits down in the office chair.

He falls asleep…..

Tonight is no different.

Mike sits down. The monitors he’s supposed to watch for the next five hours are already on. Nothing particularly interesting has happened yet, the animatronics haven’t moved a muscle. Which is probably a good thing, but it also means that the next however many hours are going to drag on.

He yawns, checking the monitors for the outside cameras. Vanessa hasn’t said anything about coming here tonight, but he kind of hopes she does. It’s nice having someone here that knows what’s happening.

(And he might kind of, a little, sort of like her company.)

Mike continues to watch the monitors, eyes growing heavy. He yawns again, sinking deeper into the seat. The animatronics stay in place.

Mike rests his head on his folded arms. The allure of sleep is too great.

He dreams….

-x-x-x-

It started, like all the bad things in Mike’s life, just after his little brother was taken. His insistent need to sleep. Doctors and psychiatrists told him it was because he was depressed, but Mike wasn’t so sure.

He was prone to the weirdest dreams when he slept. Dreams where it felt like-and perhaps it was simply his overactive imagination at work-his little brother was trying to reach out to him.

And no amount of medicine or therapy ever made it better.

It wasn’t until his mom and dad were dead and, in the ground, and his Aunt Jane got him put on a vastly different antidepressant that the dreams stopped.

All that to say, it’s strange for Mike to be back in the same dream again.

His brother stands in front of him, furrowing his eyebrows. “Mikey?” Garrett asks. “Are you okay?”

Even if this is a dream, Mike refuses to waste a single second with his brother. For years he looked forward to going to bed at night, knowing that, even for a short while, he could see Garrett.

“Yeah…I’m fine. Sorry.” His voice is slightly higher, childlike. He glances down at his hands. Mike thinks of asking why he’s a child again but stops himself.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

It’s a dream, and dreams aren’t known for following the rules of reality.

“You’re fine,” Garrett says, taking him by the hand. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Mike follows, holding tightly to his brother’s hand. His eyes mist up a little, and he has to rub his face on his shirt to avoid crying. The familiar weight of his brother’s hand is comforting as it is upsetting.

Garrett says nothing, chattering on and on about anything and everything. Though, the slight squeeze to his hand is acknowledgement enough.

They arrive at a park. The same park that….

“No!” Mike shouts, yanking his brother back. “We need to leave!”

Garrett tilts his head. “But I wanna play with you.”

“I…I…can’t. This place is-”

“I know, but no one can hurt us here. I want you to swing with me.”

Mike trembles, nodding reluctantly. “Okay.”

“Yay!”

He follows Garrett to the swings. His little brother hops up into one. He then looks expectantly at Mike. Mike sits on a swing. It creaks. He closes his eyes, unable to look at the park where his….

“It hurts.”

Mike opens his eyes. “Huh?”

“It hurts. This place, seeing it, being here. It causes you pain,” Garrett says, still swinging.

He swallows past the lump in his throat, wiping a hand over his face. “No….I’m just worried.”

Garrett giggles. “You can be worried and in pain, silly. You can’t lie to me, you know. We are connected. I can feel your pain.”

Mike opens his eyes. “What?”

“Your pain. I can feel it.”

“But…you said we’re connected?”

“Yeah, of course we are. We’re brothers.”

“That explains nothing.”

Garrett shrugs. “I don’t know how to explain it. It just is. After I died-”

“You aren’t dead,” Mike snaps.

His little brother just gives him a pity-filled look. “After I died,” he starts again, “I was stuck. I couldn’t speak, or move. It was…scary.” Garrett stops swinging. “I remember calling out for mommy and daddy, but no matter how hard I screamed, they never came. And then I called out for you.”

Mike feels his entire body tense up. The lump in his throat is slowly becoming harder to ignore, and his eyes are starting to mist up again. “Yeah?”

“Uh, huh,” his little brother says, tightening his hold on the swing’s chains. “I called out to you, but you didn’t come either. But then, one night, something amazing happened.”

Garrett looks at him. “The dead can’t sleep, like the living can. Like you are right now. But sometimes, we can force ourselves to enter a dream-like state. It helps pass the time. The first time I did that, I ended up here. I didn’t want to be alone here as well, so I called out to you again. And unlike the previous times, you came.”

Mike nods along, listening intently.

“It felt almost like we were together again….” A stormy look crosses Garrett’s face. “And then, you left.”

Mike shakes his head. “No. That’s not what happened.”

His little brother glares at him. “You told me you’d never leave. You promised, Mike. But you lied.” Tears slid down his brother’s cheeks. “Why’d you lie?”

He freezes, unable to handle the new wave of guilt. “I…I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Suddenly, he’s nauseous and dizzy. Mike closes his eyes, trying to block out all the sights and smells.

His brother starts to sob. The sound feels like a knife in his gut.

Mike’s tears feel like acid, burning his skin. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he repeats, over and over like a mantra.

His brother’s sobs get louder until it’s the only thing Mike can hear….

His eyes shoot open. A very concerned Vanessa stands in front of him. “Mike?” She asks, searching his face. “Are you okay?”

Mike rubs a hand down his face, feeling tears. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Just a bad dream.”

Vanessa doesn’t press any further, though she also doesn’t look like she exactly believes him either. “I brought donuts,” she tells him, gesturing to a box in her hands.

Mike forces a smile. “Thank you.”

#whumptober2023 #no.11 #swapping around prompts #“You Said You'd Never Leave.”#“You're a Liar.”#mike schmidt #garrett schmidt #mike and garrett #vanessa shelly #fnaf movie #cross posted on ao3 #open ending #tw kidnapping #tw implied death #tw nightmares #tw childhood trauma

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the-firebird69 · 9 months ago

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Swedish House Mafia - Greyhound

youtube

This is where the Max and foreigners and our teams and some of the miscellaneous bring their A game.

Zues Hera

And we don't really have that and we know it so it's going to suck. What we hear is these are celestials and there are some Galactus and Galactica and some eternals and they're different he says it's also angels that they call that it's from a Jager cartoon actually is the animated series and their massively wicked and the max know about it and they say they need it and some women headed out to the Mediterranean and came back huge I'm feeling better and now I don't feel good I said if he was eating the food he would feel too good and be gigantic and he'd be in his Juggernaut format and nobody would go near him except for your idiot Terry cheesman who knows I wouldn't do anything if he didn't even if he had the most powerful handgun on Earth with him well it's not but that one it probably wouldn't do much with lead and he says wow that's good

Bja

I don't think I'd be the only one John remillard would be right behind me and far too close if I stop suddenly

Terry

I can't stand this anymore I know you've got a certain skill set sure I would be right behind you buddy Dan would be right behind me I need to reach down say three is better than one and pinch us off I didn't really want to be that big and he's saying we're chicken s*** in it and you say you just have to see The Three stooges everything will be fine that's great I'm looking forward to that it's supposed to be in March and I think that's coming up it says it's a generic format and he doesn't know much about it it sounds logical it's got more impurities and it would drop earlier and we know it would and it calculations are about 8 years or even less but it's in a lipoma and we studied that it takes the exact time and you're saying it would come out and that would stop and come out and that's true too and but after a few months it will all be gone so he's wondering what would happen cuz he'll go on full tilt which might take only a few months for him to reach maximum height

Trump

True too someone come out later but it's in lipoma and it stores it better and they did studies and found that some of it last a year or longer cuz it's got no air and it's not broken the seal and that's what it is so he's going to grow and then not grow then grow and give me frustrating A little but not much to say I'm already big enough I can't fit in anything these people are all small people inspired to grow bigger and fix things

Thor Freya

Really John remillard and company messed up we have the three doing an act where he is Chris and we're trying to recover the stocks and use him and yeah we want to do it again but okay and yeah we're a silly people it's kind of obvious

Mike tew

It's a lot of winners out here today sneak a little b****** and they suck but really this is going to make a lot of sense coming up pretty quick and it's about a huge balls over theirs and you can't handle them with anything but a biomechanical creature humanoid or otherwise and the max are already saying it so we have to go investigate

Bja

They would hold off and use him but now they're a bunch of jerks and losers who thought they would have the pole position I can't believe my own people did it suck he says I'm playing pressure on them but still they had that done

Mac daddy

You think JC and Mary had something to do with it in the screwing around with everything and everything came out and it's bad so you want to bring him in and we want to try him and convict him if he's guilty and his brother says of course he's guilty you're pushing him and pushing him it's one guy and you pushed him too hard and you made too many clowns and they push him too hard and you're getting pushed too hard by the clowns I always see that that's kind of what it is cuz they're sitting there annoying him all day

Macs

It's not really about hate it's about you guys not doing the right thing and making screw UPS into a habit and more and it's really obscene and you not understanding it it's not a surprise. If you go around pushing him being so far they end up falling like Trump and they do stupid things and they're different characters and they do stupid things as different characters and it's absolutely true and it is entirely your fault as a group I don't say everything is I'm saying that you're pushed too far and you just kept on pushing yourselves and turned into a nightmare and the max think they can overcome it but a lot of things went a little far she'd have something to name what though ask the max to name what went too far

Zues Hera

We have some several times and they can't name too much so here we go

Bja

Yup

Trump

We're going down there now

Brad

No kidding but we really have to

Jason

Yeah we need to know

Mac daddy

Olympus

This is what's awful it's a good time though it's too hot there's too many people and he's already sore that he's going to head back and try to eat something more that's helpful stop being taking a break

Thor Freya

Haha my husband says Thor and Freya know about it and then he needs to break helping cuz he's sore he thinks it'll be good

Hera

We have a lot to announce in a moment Thor friend

#Youtube

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autisticrosewilson · 8 months ago

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Call me Jane Prentiss the way these worms are TUNNELING!!!

Firstly I offer in a one to one crossover; Archivist! Dick because I think he's Marked by the most fears (The Stranger and The Vast from the circus, The End and The Slaughter from his parents death, The Eye, The Hunt, and The Dark from being a bat, The Web (because who isn't marked by the Web honestly, The Lonely - see the Dick wants to be free but instead he is loved, Jason wants to be loved but instead he is free post) and it's really fun if you consider

Spiral! Jason. Imagine Michaels dialogue about Gertrude but Translate that to Sheila, and replace Michael and Jon's conversations with Dick and Jason. Is this not the most distressing, comical thing you have ever seen. I'm giggling just thinking about it

I DO agree with Spiral! Steph, and in fact I think she'd take Helen's role because her being Jason's replacement just seems fitting to me

Bruce would be Gertrude, if less Willing to just sacrifice his assistants. Did he do fucked up things in this au in pursuit of saving the world? Almost definitely, but I do think he had a little more nuance and empathy than Gertrude did. Her refusal to succumb to The Eye, being so driven and brutal she could have been a Hunt avatar according to Elias, so Bruce coded. Instead of having weirdly intimate ties with The Desolation his is with The Web (Web! Talia btw if you even care. I'm in love with her)

Cass is Sasha in that she's SUPPOSED to be the next Archivist and she'd be a kickass Eye avatar (already had Eye abilities) but she's been so Othered that she is practically manufactured and instead leans more into Stranger territory, which makes her a weird ass mix of It Knows You and The Unknowing somehow.

Tim definitely has Eye and Web influences, but I peg him more as The Lonely, for he is just a silly little guy who desperately wants a place anywhere he can find it, and also I think he'd really like the ability to just Go Where The People Aren't whenever he wants.

Alfred is Marked by The Slaughter and The End, and probably collects all the fucked up artefacts me thinks, definitely beat the shit out of Jurgen Leitner back in the day, maybe he used to be like Mikeale Salesa but has matured a bit more over the last century or so

Babs I totally agree is The Eye 100%, Marked by The Flesh and The Slaughter, I don't know if there are any one to one character roles she would fit but my best idea would be Basira, they have a lot of the same drive I think (DinahBabs but it's Daisira. Thank you I'll be here all week)

Damian is difficult because he's just a little guy, Flesh influence definitely, The End too, buy I think if I had to pick one I'd say The Desolation. If the Desolation is hurting someone before you can be hurt, feeding the flame so it doesn't feed on you, I think it's a really good representation of his early character. And maybe he pulls a Mike Crew and gets claimed by something else to avoid getting Got by The Desolation (I think either The Eye or The Hunt)

Duke would be Marked by The Spiral (Joker) but he'd be predisposed to The Dark, having said that I think he'd fill both Gerry/Georgie's role as just not being capable of fear, chilling the whole time, EXTREMELY End coded (can't he see ghosts or something) while he does insane shit in the name of helping Bruce solve mysteries

Kate is Melanie King, military = Slaughter, lesbian, beautiful buff woman who would carve her own eyes out before she'd listen to a smug little bitch. I, too would worship her like a prophet.

Ra's is the kind of unhinged, weirdly seductive immortal bastard that fits almost perfectly one to one with Elias it's quite frankly awful.

QUICK WHAT FEARS WOULD THE BATFAM BE. I think all of them are a little bit the eye really, but definitely fit other ones.

JASON IS THE HUNT OBVIOUSLY or the end maybe.

DICK IS THE STRANGER.

TIM IS THE EYE or maybe the web.

CASS IS THE DARK.

BRUCE IS THE DARK OR THE EYE.

babs is the only one I’m really 100% on as the eye.

Damian is also the hunt.

Steph is the spiral.

I don’t really think Duke fits any of them, but I’ll say he’s the desolation even though he’s more light than fire.

#tma #dc #Batfam #tma au #mutual mayhem

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titan-fodder · 3 years ago

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Prima Vista Part II

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 10.2k

Warnings: specific character attributes (not appearance, mentioned favorite color, movie, etc.), oral, rough sex, multiple orgasms, Erwin is kind of annoying, semi-exhibitionism, too much testosterone A/N: And, here we go again. Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part and told me about it. This one’s for y’all~

Mike immediately notices when you start to avoid him. You had already been doing it, but now it's to the point of ducking into buildings you have no business being in and walking a little too briskly when you catch sight of him somewhere on campus. You also won't get anywhere near the Pi Kappa Alpha house.

And, he gets it. He fucked up that night. Or, he didn't fuck up, but he opened up. Too much. Showed that he was willing to be vulnerable, and you obviously had not liked that.

The first week of watching you duck and cover from afar isn't so bad. He's a little bummed, yeah, but he figures you'll come around, if not for him then at least for his dick.

But, one week turns to two, and Mike gets irritated, a little angry even. Because it's not like he did anything wrong. It's not like you haven't wanted it every time.

He doesn't know your class schedule exactly, but he does know when you get out of your 11 AM and have to cross the courtyard to your dorm. It's where Mike caught you last time when he was playing frisbee with Nile, and it's where he catches you now.

Your speed walking is no match for his normal stride, and he easily closes the distance between you two and grabs your wrist to tug you toward a more private area by the library.

"What the fu—what are you doing?" You spit, pulling yourself free.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to get to my fucking room to nap! Is that okay?"

Mike ignores it, glances over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching, then asks, "Why are you avoiding me?"

Scoffing, you mumble an unconvincing, "I haven't been avoiding you."

"Bullshit."

"I've just been busy, okay? Midterms are coming up, and I'm falling behind…" He can tell you're lying by the way you can't meet his eyes. "I need to focus."

"Am I that big of a distraction?"

You don't miss a beat—"Yes," and your eyes widen at your own answer like you're surprised by it.

Mike raises his eyebrows, taken off guard, and you try to cover your tracks. "I mean, like, I don't have time to be fucking frat boys. And, I know you have the pick of the litter, so it's not like you'll go without."

He has to bite his tongue, a confession right on the tip of it—I pick you—but knows that's the last thing you want to hear. It's too early for thoughts like that anyway. You're too closed off, and he's too transparent. It's not like anything serious could work out anyway, and even if it could, he shouldn't tie himself down.

"I mean, yeah, but—"

You hold a hand up, take a deep breath. "Look, I'll be honest with you. You seem like an okay guy, but you should find some other girl to do this with. I don't wanna be another notch on your bedpost—"

"Then, don't be. We can just hang out."

"Yeah, we tried that at the party and still ended up sleeping together."

"We can make it a rule then." He's trying too hard, he knows, but he can't help it. "No fucking. I won't come onto you, and you won't come onto me."

You snort and pick at the hem of your shirt, obviously not buying any of this. "Why do you wanna be friends so bad anyway? Is it the hard-to-get thing? Is it that I'm making it difficult?"

"Maybe but not entirely."

Why does he want to be your friend so badly? You haven't given him any real reason to. You can bond over nerd shit here and there, but other than that, you don't have a lot in common.

You just seem… Cool. Aloof. Like you don't give a shit about anyone or anything, and Mike never thought he'd find that attractive in a girl, but apparently he does.

"Just come over one more time. We can watch something again or—"

"I'm not going into your room again!"

"You don't have to," Mike says, speaking with his hands to emphasize his point. "We can stay in the living room. Totally public. Any of the guys could walk in."

"Has that ever stopped any of you before?"

Not a hundred percent of the time. Mike has definitely seen more of Erwin and Gelgar than he'd like, but he can tell a little white lie.

"Yes."

You stare up at him, a skeptical look on your face, and then, "I'll see if I can pencil you in."

"Fuck yeah, I promise I'll show you a good time without, like, showing you a good time."

"Yeah, whatever."

You're unimpressed, turn to walk away, but Mike is feeling a little too triumphant, a little too bold, and catches you before you can get too far.

He premises, "Just to get it out of my system," then bends down and kisses you. Palms covering your cheeks, fingers curling around the back of your head kisses you. He uses both of his thumbs, just under your mouth, to part your lips so that he can slide his tongue past them, and you push at his chest half-heartedly, no real force to it as you let him lick into your mouth.

The first whimper that escapes you is what makes you break away, your hands stronger against him to shove him back, and Mike smirks when you glare at him.

"You're on thin fucking ice, Zacharias. Thin ice."

"I'll keep it in mind."

With that, you leave the little alcove the two of you were in, grumbling and cursing the whole way. Mike just watches the sway of your hips and licks his lips.

You come over on a Saturday afternoon. Mike can tell you've tried to make yourself look not cute in loose, ripped jeans and a t-shirt, but it doesn't work. Mike still smiles, and you still roll your eyes at him before kicking your shoes off by the door.

"Okay, so what are we doing?" You ask, sitting two cushions away from him on the couch.

"I brought my Switch in here, so we have that…"

"Oh, do you have the SNES games downloaded?"

"Dumb question. Of course I do."

"Rude. Open that shit up."

He does, and you demand to play Donkey Kong, which Mike has no problem with, but, "A please would be nice."

You click your tongue, holding your hand out for the second tiny controller and tell him, "You don't get to hear me beg anymore."

Mike feels his shorts tighten, but all he does is kick a foot over his thigh and warn you, "Best not test my self-control like that."

"Is that a threat?" You laugh, toggling down to 'Two Player' on the screen and clicking it.

"Not a threat." He bobs his head to the theme music. "Just lettin’ you know."

You get as far as Mine Cart Carnage together, but Mike ends up getting tossed from the cart, leaving you to take over as Diddy. He watches the way you move with your character, sitting up straighter, raising the controller to your chest, swaying one way then the next as if your body is tied directly to the game.

Erwin walks in a little while later when you're focused on Stop & Go Station. He sits down in a plush chair, phone in his hand that he ignores in favor of asking, "What are you guys doing out here? Shouldn't you be in Mike's room?"

Mike glances at him, gives him a look and shakes his head, but you're much less subtle when you snap, "Can it, Smith," eyes never leaving the screen.

"Don't count on that," Mike snorts. "I think it’s physically impossible for him to keep his mouth shut for longer than four seconds."

"Wooow," Erwin drawls, thick eyebrows high in offense. "I'm supposed to be able to trust you, and now you're just talking shit right in front of me."

"For some reason, I get the feeling your ego can't get bruised that easily," you muse out loud.

"I'll have you know I can be very sensitive," Erwin informs you matter-of-factly. "I have a heart. I have feelings. And, I've been told on multiple occasions that I'm more considerate than most men, so there."

You laugh, a silly sound that gets stuck in your throat. "Oh, really? And how many of those women—'cause that's what they are, I'm sure—were left behind after they built you up like that, hm?"

Biting both of his lips, Erwin sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. "I plead the fifth on that one."

"Uh huh, that's what I thought."

While you're fixated on the screen, Mike glances over at his friend, sees blue eyes shining as Erwin stares at you, a tell-tale smirk on his face. He's amused by you. Interested, even.

You stay for about an hour longer before going back to the dorms. As soon as the front door shuts, Mike swivels around and points a finger at Erwin, uttering a low, "Don't you dare," that makes the blond chuckle.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

You mostly hang out on weekends and only in small bursts. Alternating between movies and video games, it's a little hard to speak to one another, but Mike is still able to pry some information out of you and share more about himself.

You're majoring in geological and earth sciences while Mike is working toward a degree in environmental science— "Kinda weird we haven't run into each other before."

You played basketball for a year in high school before getting annoyed by the other girls. Mike, on the other hand, made some of his best friends on his old soccer team.

You had a ferret growing up and now you'll "Never get another pet again 'cause when he died, I died a little with him." (It's the first time Mike has ever seen tears in your eyes, but you blink them away at record speed). He tells you about the dogs his family has had and how the one at home with his parents now is actually his. (Her name's Scout, and I would take a bullet for her.")

Hitch is your best friend even though she irritates the shit out of you, and Mike says something similar about Erwin. "He's a good guy. He's just… Passionate about so many things. He gets obsessive. Drives me insane."

"Obsessed with that pussyyy," you joke in a deep, stupid voice.

Mike snorts, "Perv," and keeps watching the movie that's playing.

And, speaking of movies, your favorite Disney film is The Fox and The Hound— "Good taste," while his is Lion King— "Classic." As far as other movies, though, the two of you spend half an hour arguing over which Mel Brooks is the best, end up having to agree to disagree (Young Frankenstein vs. High Anxiety).

Your favorite color is green. Your favorite food is pizza (“What are you, twelve?”). Your favorite animal is the pangolin. They’re all little facts that Mike stores away, and by the end of the semester, he actually feels like he kind of knows you, and somehow, against all odds, you've managed to not hookup through it all.

That's not to say it hasn't been hard (that he hasn't been hard). Sometimes you come over in skin tight jeans or crop tops, outfits that accentuate your body in all the right ways, and Mike is pretty sure that you do it on purpose.

You're both careful not to drink too much at parties, aware of the likely consequences, but you hang around him enough to gain people's attention—jealous girls watching in disappointment, curious guys sizing you up.

Questions inevitably arise. You complain about Hitch pestering you for details that you will not give her, and he tells you how he has to keep brushing off his brothers.

"She doesn't, like, know we've had sex—would never fucking leave me alone if she did. But she and all her other little friends are so annoying about it."

You're on the steps outside of the frat house, jackets zipped up, nursing steaming cups of cocoa you got from the nearby shop.

"So, what do you tell them?" Mike asks.

You shrug your shoulders. "That we're not fucking. Just friends. They don't believe me, but that's my story, and I'm sticking to it, dammit."

Mike laughs through his nose and takes another drink. "I mean, it's not a lie since we're not fucking and we are friends."

You make a high pitched noise, doubtful, challenging. "Friends is a strong word."

"Whatever."

He's used to you doing that now, denying him every chance you get even in a joking way. You've never once admitted to any type of feelings out loud, and he isn't sure why, some kind of avoidance behavior, but he won't complain because he knows you're at least a little fond of him. You wouldn't keep spending time with him if you weren't.

Deciding to change the subject, Mike prompts, "So, Erwin's party over the break," and you glance at him over your cup with interest. "You're coming, right?"

"I don't know. Isn't it at, like, his ranch house in bum fuck nowhere?"

"Kinda. It's only about a two hour drive from here, but it's definitely off the beaten path."

"I'll have to see. Need to spend time with my mom while I can."

Understandable. He's looking forward to seeing his own parents (and Scout, of course).

The last game of the season is played and won, then finals pass after too many all-nighters and too much Red Bull. Mike actually sighs in relief when he slides into his white Wrangler, all packed up and ready to make the drive back to his house.

He sends one text before pulling out onto the main road—Be safe—and hopes he won't have to wait an entire month to see you again.

Staying with your mom is nice but always slightly depressing. The house is empty with just her in it, less lived in than ever before. You can tell exactly which spots she spends most of her time in—her office to work and the couch in front of the TV to wind down.

You sleep in your old bedroom, spend most evenings texting Hitch after your mom goes to bed, but a few conversations with Mike slip in too. He sends you several pictures of Scout—beautiful but always wearing one of those perpetual Boxer frowns—and in return, you send him pictures of the pretty betta your mother has in her office. It's the best you can do.

After a week of being in your hometown, you're ready to leave it again. It's not terrible or in a bad part of town. It's just… lacking. You'd never tell your mother this, but you have a feeling she knows. It's probably why she doesn't put up a fight when you tell her you're gonna run off for a couple days to attend Erwin's party.

"I promise I'll be back. It's just one night and then the drive back."

Her tone is very serious when she tells you to stay out of trouble, but then she walks you out to your car and hugs you, watching and waving as you drive away.

You text Erwin on the way there to ask if it's okay to arrive early—like a few hours early cause I needed to get out of my house—and he replies enthusiastically.

Absolutely! Mike and Levi are already here 😃

You have no idea who this Levi is outside of hearing Erwin mention him a few times, but you very quickly find out when you get to the large but secluded house. You see Erwin's stupid (gorgeous) vintage Mustang parked in the gravel driveway as well as Mike's white Jeep and an unfamiliar, black Prius.

All three of them are on the porch occupying outdoor chairs that probably cost more than your fucking dorm expenses, but Mike and Erwin both stand when you make your way up the sidewalk. Staying seated, or really sprawled out with his hands behind his head, is a fairly small man (boy, maybe) with inky hair and sunglasses covering his eyes. He’s dressed much differently than the other two, ripped jeans, Doc Martens, and a striped long sleeved shirt under a short sleeved band tee.

“What in the e-boy fuck…” You mutter to yourself, nodding at the blonds and letting Mike take your backpack—not that you really have a choice considering your grip on it is no match for his.

“Was the drive okay?” He asks, swinging the bag over his shoulder and making it look incredibly small.

“Yeah. Once I hit the backroads I could start going, like, eighty-five, so that shaved some time off.”

Mike snorts. “You sound like Erwin. Dude’s always speeding.”

“Don’t fucking start with me. I was in the car with you when you almost hit a pedestrian on a crosswalk.”

“We don’t talk about that.”

Everyone follows Erwin inside the house. It’s just as nice as you thought it’d be, sprawling and open with wood floors, plush furniture, and rustic decorations. There are moose antlers mounted in one room and a god damned bear head in another. It makes you roll your eyes, but to say you’re unimpressed would be a flat out lie.

“Not everyone is staying the night, but I know you have to, so just pick an upstairs room,” Erwin tells you after the grand tour. “I can take you around on the golf cart once you settle in.”

You see Mike roll his green eyes and amend, “We can take you around.”

“Yeah,” Erwin nods. “That’s what I meant.”

Levi is making a face up at Erwin, furrowed brow, squinty eyes, and a little grimace. He hasn’t said more than two words to you since you’ve arrived (“I’m Levi.”), but he doesn’t seem like the chatterbox type, a little more standoffish, and you can’t blame him for that.

“Just in case you’re wondering, I’m in the middle room,” Mike tells you with a grin.

“And why, pray tell, would I be wondering that?”

He basically sings in his deep voice, “No reason,” then walks back downstairs with Erwin and Levi, leaving you to make yourself comfortable.

You take the bedroom at the far end of the hallway out of spite more than anything, but you figure the farther away you can be from Mike the better. After setting your things down and organizing deodorant, perfume, and every day jewelry on the dresser, you join the guys downstairs to find them huddling over the kitchen island talking about plans for the night.

“Should we get a keg? It won’t be that many people, but it might be easier to just pour from one,” Erwin thinks out loud.

“Don’t bother getting a keg if it’s gonna be the same shitty beer you guys have at Pike parties,” you chime in, hip checking Mike so that he’ll scoot over and allow you join their little meeting.

Levi lets out a little laugh, the most expressive you’ve seen him so far, while the other two pout at your criticism.

“Why don’t you pick the beer then?” Erwin prompts. “Since you have such refined tastes.”

Eyebrows lifting, you laugh. “Oh, we’ve got a smartass in the house tonight.” The blond smirks and dusts off his shoulders, making Mike groan in either annoyance or embarrassment. You can’t be sure which one.

“Fuck, is this what it’s always like between you three?” Levi asks, looking between all of you. “Just constant bickering?”

“More or less.”

“That seems exhausting.”

“It is,” you confirm. “‘S’why I can only hang out with them in small doses.”

“Ouch.”

“Wounded.”

“Anyway,” you let your head hang so that all they can see is your shoulders shaking as you giggle, and when you look back up, you make sure that the smile is mostly wiped from your face. “I’m not saying I’m some kind of beer expert, but I at least know that the shit you serve at parties is rancid.”

“And yet, you always seem to forget,” Mike teases. “I always end up having to finish yours.”

“You don’t have to. You choose to, you fucking alkie.”

It’s hard to come to any sort of decision with the non-stop push and pull of the conversation, and eventually Levi just walks away to let the three of you work it out. Erwin orders a keg of Rolling Rock, says something about, “Dad won’t mind me splurging a little since I downsized this whole thing for him,” and you scoff at him.

He’s well aware of his privilege, talks about it in an ironic manner that’s both maddening and hilarious— “Father is going to let me take the yacht out this weekend,” and, “Oh, that’s not country club appropriate.” It makes you laugh every fucking time, but it also usually earns him a smack or two.

The next few hours are spent gathering party supplies and getting the house ready (as in moving some furniture around and hiding valuables). Erwin leaves to pick up the keg after assuring the vendor on the phone that he can drive to them and pay extra for the short notice. You don’t know how he manages it, but you assume his confidence has a lot to do with it.

Only about twenty people are supposed to come, “An Erwin Smith exclusive,” Mike jokes with you as you stash a couple of vases in the kitchen cabinets.

“Oh, does that mean I’m special?” You play.

“Absolutely.”

There’s something churning in your gut as you move around downstairs with Mike and Levi, an omniscient feeling, like you know how the night will end, but you’re going to fight it every step of the way. You’ve made it this long without a slip-up, and you’re determined to make it one more night.

Erwin gets back with about three hours to spare. He and Mike disappear to change into what you assume to be their usual douche-y attire, and you and Levi sit alone in the large living room waiting quietly.

You’re surprised when he speaks first, stating, “You don’t seem the sorority type.”

Turning, you try to make sense of it, respond, “Well, I’m not.” You’re almost offended that he’d even consider you were.

“Then what are you doing hanging around with those frat boy fucks?”

“Oh, that.” You sigh. “Uhh, my friend made me go to one of their parties, and I just… Made an impression, I guess.”

“You fucked one of ‘em, didn’t you?” Levi is smirking, so sure of himself that you don’t really see the point in denying it.

“Yeah.”

“Rich boy or the giant?”

You look over at him, defenses rising like they did your first night in the Pi Kappa Alpha house. “The fuck is it to you?”

Holding his hands up, Levi chuckles, “Alright, alright, forget I asked.”

You cross your arms over your chest, stare off as you wonder if it’s actually that hard to tell. You figured it would be obvious that you’re more comfortable with Mike than with Erwin, but you have been getting more used to the other brazen blond over the last few months, just like you’ve been getting a little more used to Nile and all the other brothers. You haven’t sucked any of their dicks, though.

“How’d you meet Erwin?” You try.

You’re not surprised when Levi snarks, “The fuck is it to you?”

You can’t tell if the two of you are going to leave this ranch house as mortal enemies or as friends, but it’ll definitely be one of them.

“‘Cause you don’t seem the type to hang out with them either,” you tell him.

It's definitely odd. He and Erwin have to go back some time to have been able to stick together through their college years and all of their superficial differences.

Levi admires the black polish on his nails then informs you in a bored tone, “We’ve been friends since we were kids, but it’s no big deal. Just can’t get rid of him.”

The corner of his mouth turns upward, so he can’t be too heartbroken over it. You understand that, haven’t quite been able to shake your puppy-dog of a friend since the beginning of the semester, but you’re not as annoyed about it as you pretend to be.

“They certainly do get attached,” you hum.

The two men in question join you once again, looking much more palatable in jeans and v-necks. Erwin has a button-down hanging open and rolled up to his elbows while Mike is wearing a black and white flannel in similar fashion. It’s the most casual they’ve been at a party, and you can’t help but joke, “Wow, look at you two. More human, less lizard people for once.”

Erwin rolls his eyes while Mike mumbles a Doctor Who reference that makes you suck on the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning.

He’s got his charm turned on tonight, the kind that appeals to you, which will definitely pose a problem.

People start arriving at around eight, some you recognize from the college, some you don’t who you assume to be some of Erwin’s older friends. Gelgar taps the keg within minutes of walking in then plays the role of bartender for the next ten minutes as everyone lines up for a drink. There’s liquor and mixers set up on the counter, and you consider just making your usual, but you figure you should have at least a little of the beer since you’re the one who fought for the more expensive brand.

When you get your cup, foam nearly overflowing past the rim, you take one sip only to cough it back up when Mike shows off his usual party trick—appearing out of thin air—and asks, “You gonna finish it this time?”

You splutter as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand then glare up at him. “I’m gonna try, but it’s gonna be pretty fuckin’ difficult if you keep making me spit up like a god damn baby.”

He’s amused, light eyes dancing mischievously, and you know you’re in for a long night.

Erwin has a playlist filtering through the house’s sound system, a nice balance of several different genres playing at a bearable volume for the first time. Games start up in the kitchen, rage cage around the island, beer pong at the table, and while you’re content to just wallflower in the corner, Mike drags you into it.

“You’re just as bad as Hitch," you complain, but he isn't fazed, just plants you in an open spot at the island and stands right beside you. He's gonna regret doing that; rage cage is one of the only competitive games you're actually good at, but he'll find that out.

It's fast-paced, full of screaming and laughing, jumping and shoving. You get to slam your cup into Mike's on several occasions, drawing curses from him every time.

"Honestly, it's a little embarrassing," you ridicule with a smile.

He downs the small amount of beer in the cup he pulls, adds it to the stack, then challenges, "I'll show you embarrassing. Just wait."

You've had maybe two beers altogether, but it still sends a jolt down your spine.

The two of you play another couple of rounds, and Mike does seem to catch on a little more, but he eventually bows out and pulls you away with him.

More beer. Meandering around the party. It's pretty tame in comparison to all the Pike events you've attended, but the later it gets, the rowdier everyone becomes. Music gets turned up to dance. The keg stops being used for pouring and starts being used for stands. You have the absolute pleasure of watching Erwin hold Levi upside down as the smaller man chugs as much as he can. He beats Nile's record, raises his arms in victory as Erwin shakes him by the shoulders in excitement.

"They're pretty close, yeah?"

Mike looks down at you as you stand on your tip-toes to get closer to his ear as you speak.

He nods. "I don't really understand them, but yeah. They've been friends since, like, elementary school, I think."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

You play beer pong against Gelgar and Nile, end up losing by quite a lot, and by the time you finish the remaining cups and another full drink, you're feeling good. Warm, happy, dangerously giggly.

Mike stands too close as you make your rounds to talk to people, many of them asking how the lacrosse season went. He puffs his chest a little, tries and fails to act modest, but instead of getting irritated like you usually do, you find yourself resting your cheek against his arm as you shake your head. You don't know if the action is to disagree with him or to get closer, but it makes Mike chuckle and shift so that he can wrap that arm around you and pull you to his chest instead.

He smells nice—woodsy with a sweet little bite. It makes your mouth water. You try to call back your determination from before, that readiness to fight and deny, but Mike's body is firm and massive and hot against yours, and he's also drunk and smiling sideways. His eyes are hazy and gorgeous when he peers down at you. His stubble has grown into that perfect length, the kind that feels incredible between your legs, and you can already see your hands tugging at his shaggy hair as he flips it from his face.

"You okay?" He rumbles, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

He knows. You know he knows. And, he knows that you know that—

Fuck. Stop. Just…

"What do you think?" You're aware of what you're saying. The words make perfect sense. You just can't stop them from falling from your mouth is all.

"I don't know," Mike says, a playful lilt to his voice. "Why don't you tell me?"

You're not sure if he's asking for your consent or if he just wants to humiliate you by making you spell it out for him.

"I mean…" Your gaze travels from his face to his neck to his pecs and downward. "The semester is over."

"It is," he agrees, hand moving from your waist to your hip.

"Don't really need to be, uh… What's the word…" You squeeze your eyes shut, splaying your fingers on his stomach. "Studious," you snap. "Don't need to be so studious on vacation."

Mike very slowly starts walking backwards toward the staircase, holding you at arms length by both your hips now.

"No, you really don't."

Voice of reason fading away, you step around him but grab his hand, taking the stairs two by two until you're on the balcony that wraps above the living room. Once you slip into the closer room, yours, you lock the door.

Mike's mouth is familiar in its desperation—tastes like beer and want and him. He pulls his flannel off behind him by the sleeves just in time for you to start pushing his shirt up over his abs, in awe all over again at the muscle group.

It's really not fair.

You pause between kisses to strip, smiling and groaning whenever your lips meet again. You've missed it on some level—the heat, the fucking attraction you just can't shake. All the times you hung out with him, purposely keeping distance, avoiding flirting and touching and staring—you figured it would come to a head. You even guessed there was a good chance that it would be at this party.

But, that doesn't mean you're prepared when he throws you onto the bed, doesn't prepare you for the way he bites your lip and sucks on your neck and pinches your nipples until you moan his name and grind against him, and it certainly doesn't prepare you for the way he spreads your legs, runs his nose up the inside of your thigh, then drags his tongue over your slit.

"Fuck, Mike."

He groans, quick to slide the muscle into your pulsing cunt to taste you. His fingertips are digging into the fat of your thighs, keeping you still save for your trembling which makes the feeling of his mouth even more intense. You want to buck against his face, want to put out the fire raging inside of you by moving somehow, letting some of the energy out, but you can't. All you can do is lay there as Mike licks around your hole and nibbles at your clit and laps up your juices.

"Missed this fuckin' pussy," he breathes, sucking on one of your lips and then the other, pulling blood to the surface and making them puffy and sensitive.

You card fingers through his hair before fisting your hand in it and shoving his face further into your cunt, trying as hard as you fucking can to ride any part of him you can manage—his tongue, his nose, anything that will give you friction.

The sound he makes at your pathetic attempt is bestial, a low, throaty grunt as he rubs his chin up and down your slit, drenching himself in your slick and quickly overstimulating your swollen clit with his stubble.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck—"

"You wanted it," he grits. "You pushed your sloppy little cunt right in my face, so now you've gotta take everything I give you."

You cry as he continues the motion, pussy drooling as the little bud starts to grow raw. "Mike, please, please…"

"Gonna make sure you feel this tomorrow." He stops only to lean back down and suck your clit into his mouth. The tip of his tongue is soft in comparison to the coarse hair, but it still makes your hips twitch, and when he grazes his teeth over it, you squeal and kick.

It's so close to hurting, right on the edge, but it's that helplessness that has you steadily leaking on the bed. It's what makes it easy for Mike to push a finger into your clenching hole, pump a couple times, then slide another one in beside it.

Your climax is coiling in your gut, compressed like a spring and only getting tighter with every thrust of long, thick fingers and every measured flick of his tongue.

Gripping his hair again, you ride it out. Mike loosens his grip just enough to allow you to undulate in time with the waves that wash over you, and you moan loudly as he moves to flatten his tongue over your entrance so that you come on and against it.

He gives you some time to settle down, but you know he isn't done yet, and since you're not quite ready to take his cock in your sensitive pussy, you pull your legs from the sides of his head and crawl to lay with your head off the side of the bed.

Mike gets the picture immediately, and you hear a huff of air leave him all at once before he clambers off the mattress to position himself at the edge. You're a little too low, so he grabs all four pillows to shove under you, and as he does, you lavish his bobbing cock with kitten licks, going as far as sucking on his balls when he leans over you.

"Jesus fucking—"

You can feel the way they tighten, his cockhead dripping pre that lands just below the notch of your sternum. It isn't until he's thoroughly coated in spit that you stop and let him straighten, then open your mouth and relax your shoulders.

Mike is careful as he slides his tip past your lips, letting you adjust to the weight of his cock in your mouth before he pushes in a little further. Your eyes start watering as soon as he passes between your molars, making you stretch your jaw and drool from the corners of your mouth.

He pulls out then, taps his cockhead on your cheek, leaving a mix of precum and spit on your skin before lining himself up again and sliding back in.

He repeats the process a few times as if it'll actually get you used to his size, but it's just not possible. You gag and gurgle, slurp back drool when you're given the chance, and your entire body throbs when Mike tells you, "I'm gonna give you more now, okay? Wanna see your throat bulge with my cock."

You moan around him, try to make the passage of your mouth and esophagus as straight as possible then let your eyes roll back as he slips into the tighter sleeve for a few seconds. Your toes dig into the bedspread, fingers clawing at the material as you fight back the panic that comes with not being able to breathe.

Mike pulls out panting, and you wish you could see his face, the look in his eyes, but you can't. All you can do is lap at his cock until he pushes it into your mouth again.

This time when he slips into your throat, he reaches down to press a hand to your neck, letting out a deep, disbelieving laugh as he feels the way his length moves in it. "Holy shit. I could—" he just barely gives you more, and your responding whine is completely muffled by him, "—Could come like this."

The thought makes you tingle. Or maybe that's the lack of oxygen. You are feeling a little lightheaded. But the idea of him coming down your throat, right into your stomach, fuck, it makes your cunt pulse again.

Mike pulls out, and you suck in deep breaths, a little sob making your chest heave. Tears are streaming from your eyes, getting caught in your hair, and you have to wipe other various fluids from your face.

He helps you sit back up, rubs your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck as your heart rate returns to normal. As soon as he sees you relax, though, he's tugging you from the bed and bending you over it.

The scream that's pushed from you is hoarse as you're split open on his cock. Mike holds you by the hair, pulling your head back as he snaps his hips forward and back relentlessly. He slides in and out of you easily, but that doesn't mean he isn't stretching you to your breaking point.

You shake on the bed, thankful when he lets go of your head so that you can fall back to the mattress, crying and moaning all you want.

"Feel so good, baby," Mike groans. "So good."

He punctuates it with a slap to your ass that causes you to squeeze him, and that only encourages him to repeat the action until both your cheeks are radiating heat and stinging from his hands.

He flips you like a doll, and you're finally able to see his face clearly as he stares down at you with a dropped jaw and heavy lids. You know you're a mess, fucked out and sloppy, but as he abuses your g-spot with the ridge of his cock, all you can do is grin drunkenly and let your eyes roll.

"So pretty when you smile," he praises. Fingers grip your chin, and when you're able to focus your gaze again you find Mike leaning over you, face level with yours. "Open your mouth for me." His tone is soft yet demanding, and you don't hesitate for a second as you do what you're told.

Mike pushes spit through his lips, letting it drip and stretch until it lands on your tongue. It makes you feel cheap and disgusting, but it doesn't stop you from squirting around him.

Devolving into nothing more than grunts and groans, Mike continues to fuck into you but straightens so that he can reach your clit better. He flicks it back and forth until your true orgasm hits you, and then he keeps going.

You cry out, squirm wildly beneath him, but all it results in is two fingers being shoved in your mouth. Stroking over the back of your tongue, more saliva pours from your mouth just like the slick that pours from your pussy while he toys with your clit.

You come again. And again. When Mike finally removes his hand from between your legs, you're nothing more than a puddle, moaning and crying for him.

Every orgasm has made your walls swell around him, his cock feeling longer and thicker than ever as he kisses your cervix with every thrust. That lightheaded sensation is back, white dots dancing around your eyes, and you just barely manage out his name, tapping in his forearm.

"Need… need…"

"What do you need, babe?"

Your arms curl up by your head, fingers moving and spasming as every one of your senses is overwhelmed.

"Need you to—t-to—to come. Need you to c-come."

You've never had to tap out before, but you can't take him anymore. His size. His expression. His lack of fucking mercy.

"Yeah?" He coos, but his cock is still dragging in and out of you. You nod, but Mike draws it out, asking, "Where do you want me to come?"

"Don't… Care…"

"You don't care?" He's still moving, fucking you absolutely stupid as he lists out, "Your face? Your tits?" He gropes your chest, pinching both nipples, and the fact that you don't even whimper must clue him into the fact that he's about to lose you.

Your mind is swimming, fading every time he pulls out only to be brought back online when he pushes back in.

"What about your pussy? Want me to come all over your pussy?"

You moan, the simplest part of your brain apparently finding that appealing, so after a few more thrusts, Mike pulls out entirely and jerks himself off until he covers your folds in hot cum. He gets some on your thighs, some on your pelvis, soaks your peaking clit so that you take in a stuttering breath.

His hand is between your legs again, fingertips spreading the viscous fluid around and dipping into your slit.

Your eyes shoot open for the first time in God knows how long, a panicked, "M-Mike," tumbling from your lips, but he hushes you.

"I'm not pushing it inside or anything. Just having fun."

And, fuck, tonight is the night you learn how filthy he is. Mike spends a few solid minutes rubbing his seed over your puffy lips, fingers the raw tissue around your hole so that you leak for him, then uses it to massage your clit slowly and softly, pulling one last orgasm from you that makes fresh tears spring in your eyes.

You're going to be in a world of pain tomorrow, but you can't regret it—not when your legs continue to shake long after your climax, not when you can already feel that satisfying ache deep inside of you, not when Mike crawls to sit on the bed and lifts you into his arms.

"You okay?" He asks into your hair.

He's rubbing soothing circles on your stomach as you drift in and out. You know you need to shower, but you're so tired and so wrecked, you doubt you'll be able to stand for long enough to clean yourself.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Mm, little bit," you tell him honestly. You can actually feel his heart start to beat harder in his chest, so you reassure him, "Liked it, though."

You think something like twenty minutes pass, but you can't be sure as you keep dozing. It's hard not to with Mike rubbing your stomach, his body rising and falling in rhythm with every breath he takes.

When your eyes open more than halfway, you begin to move, grimacing at the soreness between your legs as well as the mess.

"'m gonna hop in the shower," you announce.

Mike sits up too, stretches his arms and asks through a groan, "Want me to come with?"

"You've done enough coming tonight," you snort. "But nah, I can clean myself on my own."

His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't say anything, just lets you get up and walk to the bathroom on shaky legs.

The hot water almost puts you back to sleep. You manage to rinse off where you need to, step back into the room fully expecting to see Mike passed out in your bed, but he's nowhere to be found.

As you crawl under the covers, you try to swallow the feeling of disappointment that's stuck in your throat.

Mike is up before almost everyone in the house the next morning, so he spends most of it trying to clean up alongside Levi, though he apparently isn't doing a very good job of it according to the smaller man.

"Jesus, have you ever mopped a floor in your life?"

"Oh, so we're just throwing everything in the same trash bag? No recycling? Your future kids will thank you for that, I'm sure."

"No, there's no way I’m letting you wipe down the counters. Just move."

Levi is lucky Mike is as laid back as he is otherwise he would have thrown the little fuck into the koi pond behind the house a long time ago.

Erwin wakes up around nine and walks down looking a little rough, but Mike has definitely seen him in worse states.

"Thanks for cleaning up," he says, bent over the island and holding his head in his hands. "Pretty sure I would have thrown up if I'd tried. Several times."

He tells the other two that pretty much everyone else started heading out at around three and that he has a list of party-goers he needs to text to make sure they made it home in one piece, "When I can actually fucking see straight."

Naturally, the conversation turns to Mike. Erwin, with his cheek now pressed against the cool, granite countertop, smirks up at him and asks in a sly voice, "So, how was your night?'

Mike bites his lip to hide a smile, leans out of the kitchen to make sure you aren't stumbling down the stairs or traipsing about the house, then looks back to his friend and laughs, "Fucking mind-blowing, dude." He doesn't go into explicit detail—that's never been his style—but he does whisper about you taking him better than any other girl and that he's, "Addicted, dude. I genuinely think I am addicted to her pussy."

"Don't be fucking dramatic, Zacharias," you pop out behind him, slapping his back as you pass him to get to the fridge. He can see the ghost of a smile turning your lips up, but it's hard to feel satisfied at that when his own face is beet red.

Looking at Erwin, Mike throws his hands out by his side, mutters an incredulous, "Dude," that makes the other blond chuckle.

You grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, making Levi grumble, "Are none of you guys concerned about the planet? God damn."

Standing between Mike and Erwin, you take a few gulps, all eyes on you until you swallow and question, "Can I help you?" Now that you're right next to him, Mike can hear a scratchiness to your voice, almost as if you're getting sick, but he knows better, knows exactly where it came from, and fuck if it doesn't make him twitch in his sweats.

"Have a good time at the party?" Erwin pries once again.

You look at him with a deadpan expression, then answer, "Seems like you already got the deets, so sure. I had a grand time."

Mike isn't sure if you're being sarcastic about it just like you are everything else. You had just kind of left him hanging when you'd gone to shower. He hadn't thought too much into it even if he'd been a little bummed, but he thinks he understands. You just need more space than he does.

Or, it could have been that you hadn't enjoyed yourself. Oh god, what if you'd just been faking? What if you'd lied to him when he asked if he hurt you? What if you're in pain right now and just hiding it?

Mike zones out while you talk with Erwin and Levi about plans for the day, works himself into a nice little panic but is still able to hear you tell them you're just gonna head back to your mom's.

"You sure?" Erwin asks. "I know you only planned to stay one night, but you're more than welcome to hang out for longer. We’ll be here for at least another few days."

Levi adds an, "Unfortunately," that earns him a hair ruffle he swats away.

"No, it's cool. I can't leave mom alone for the holiday or she'll start to think I don't like staying at the house."

"You don't, though."

"Yeah, but she doesn't have to know that."

Mike stares after you as you take your water bottle and return upstairs, and it doesn't escape the notice of the other two men.

"You're so fuckin' whipped, man," Erwin teases.

Mike doesn't deny it, just holds up a middle finger.

Erwin isn't entirely wrong, though. Mike has been trying to deny it or play it off as nothing more than lust, but there's more to his feelings at this point. He tries not to be obvious around you, to keep his cards close to his chest because he knows you just want to keep things casual—barely even want that if he's being honest.

So he can hide it. He can pretend it isn't happening. In fact, Mike should be thankful that you only want sex (sometimes) because it leaves him to do whatever he wants. He could fuck other chicks left and right, and you wouldn't even bat an eyelash. That's a good thing, right?

That worry about last night still has him on edge, though, so before you can leave, Mike catches you in your room as you're packing up and closes the door.

He expects you to make some kind of comment about not being able to go again, but all you do is tilt your head to the side in a dangerously cute way.

"Hey, I, uh… I just wanted to make sure you felt okay after last night."

You blink at him, pause in folding your clothes, then show a wide, real grin.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sore in various places—like, super sore—but I'm fine."

Mike's mouth twists to hide his smirk, and he mumbles a low, "Sorry."

"Don't ever apologize for your monster cock," you tell him, setting your shirt down on the mattress before pacing over to him. "Like, unless there's tearing of some sort, which there really shouldn't be since you're good at preparation, whoever you fuck should be okay. Sore but okay."

His eyes go a little wide when you stop in front of him, looking up with an expression he's really never seen before—or maybe that you've never allowed him to see before—and the longer he stares, the more he realizes that you're god damn glowing.

Taking a chance, he finds your waist with his hands, inches just a little closer, then leans down when you stand on your toes and tug him by the shirt.

You taste like peppermint and already smell like the perfume you wear every day, the scent that has made Mike dizzy for the past few months. He moves a hand to your back to press your body into his, and when you take his bottom lip into your mouth, biting and sucking, he groans and pulls back before he can get too hard.

"What's all this? Why are you so perky this morning?"

"I get giddy after good sex," you say with a shrug. "Sue me."

"That why you run away every time I fuck you?" He questions.

You nod. "Couldn't run away this time, though."

"I'm sure it's really bruising your pride, letting me see you all warm and gooey."

"I am not warm and gooey," you protest. "I was last night, but—"

"Aw, gross, why'd you have to say it like that?"

You giggle—giggle—then remind him, "You're the one who felt the need to fucking fingerpaint."

Mike vividly remembers the way your pussy looked covered in his cum, the way it felt to smear it and play with your swollen entrance and clit, and now… Now he is definitely hard again.

"Better stop before you end up on that bed again."

Your eyes are dancing, tone mischievous when you respond, "Only if you're gentle."

"Christ—"

He's got you naked and spread on the mattress in less than thirty seconds, tongue buried in your cunt as he soothes every part of you he can reach.

It would be cruel to actually fuck you again. He knows you're probably a little more tender than you're letting on, so Mike settles for licking into you and flicking your clit, never using teeth as it swells in his mouth so that you pant and moan, and promise, "I can handle it, Mike, I can…"

"I don't care if you can or can't. Just lemme do this."

And, it's not like he hasn't pulled his cock from his pants, pumping it and coating his length in the pre-cum he drips at the mere sight of you.

He can tell you're getting close when your thighs start to tense. You alternate between shifting your hips and going slack. It's the latter that you leak the most, pussy opening around his tongue only to clench a few seconds later.

"Just one finger, Mike, please, I want—I need something inside me, please, please," you moan.

Mike turns his face to kiss your thigh, sighing but giving in easily when he acquiesces, "Only one."

The noise you make as he slides his middle finger into you is like music, high pitched and drawn out, with an awe one would sing hymns with.

"Yes, yes, yes, thank you, fuck, tha—"

He understands why you wanted it so badly when he pulls it out and sees his finger coated in white, considers fucking you with it to the point of tears, but before he can, the door to the bedroom swings open and fucking Erwin walks in to ask, "Levi and I are going to the store—"

“Jesus fuck, Erwin!" Mike swears. "A little busy here!"

His friend is unfazed, but more importantly, you are too, arching your back, pulling Mike's hair to get him back where you want him, then moaning his name like you never have before as you come.

You tremble and take in stuttering breaths, and Mike does his best to hide your exposed pussy from prying eyes as he looks at Erwin and barks out a furious, "No, I don't need anything from the store. Get out."

The blond shrugs and turns, walking out without shutting the door, and Mike swears he's gonna kill him. He's too bold and too entitled and now he's seen far too much of your body, and Mike doesn't like that.

"Did you come?" You ask in an airy voice. Mike guesses you could feel the rhythm of his hand on his cock, probably pushing his face harder against you with every pass.

"Uh, no. I don't know if you noticed, but Erwin walked in."

"I noticed," you snort, sitting up on your elbows. "Why do you think I moaned your name like that?"

"What?" It had seemed a little odd. Mike knows he's pretty good at oral, but you've never made a sound like that before.

"Fucker wanted to see what we were up to, I decided to show him. Now he knows how good you are."

Mike stands, peers down at you skeptically and says, "You're being too nice to me today. It's freakin' me out a little."

He doesn't think it's necessary to add that Erwin is already aware of his sexual prowess considering they definitely had a threesome with a rather adventurous girl back in freshman year. It's just not pertinent information.

"Soak it up, Zacharias. I'm sure the good mood will be gone by tomorrow."

"Why, cause I won't be at your mom's to fuck you stupid every night?" His voice comes out cocky, but it's stifled by the way you squeal when he slaps a hand over your wet pussy.

"I'm sensitive, you asshole!" You're smiling even as you whine. "And, here I was about to give you head to get you off."

"I mean, you can still do that."

You glare up at him the whole time you slide off the bed to your knees, warn, "Better hope I don't bite."

After you leave (and after making out against Mike’s Wrangler for a little too long), he goes back inside to find Erwin and Levi lounging in the den with a movie playing. He wastes no time in snapping his fingers at Erwin and commanding, "We're gonna talk."

"Oh, are we?" Erwin doesn't even look away until Mike grabs the back of his shirt, and only then does he move from his spot. "Okay, okay, watch the wrinkles, bro."

He follows Mike into the kitchen, out of earshot unless either of them raise their voices which… Could happen.

"What the fuck was that?" Mike hisses.

Erwin looks at him with big blue eyes and plays dumb, "What the fuck was what?"

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Mike makes sure his voice comes out low and steady, "Smith, I swear to God, it's been a long time since I've punched you, but you're fuckin' testing me, dude."

Erwin smiles, face lighting up with what looks like excitement but could also be fury.

"Mike," he starts. "Don't tell me you're getting violent over a girl." His tone is patronizing, his eyebrows are high, and his grin is downright menacing.

"I haven't gotten violent yet," Mike grits.

"Hey, how was I to know what you two were doing up there?"

"It's not about you walking in, dude! It's about you just fucking standing there!"

Erwin chuckles and blows him off, "Mike, I've seen your dick before. You've got nothing to worry about."

"That's not what I'm worried about. You just, like, came in when she was in a vulnerable position, and that's fucked up."

"She didn't seem to mind."

Mike sucks his teeth, takes another grounding breath, then asks again, "Why? Why did you wait to leave?"

"You want me to be honest?" Erwin rolls his neck then his shoulders. Mike has seen him do that many times before lacrosse games to loosen up��to get ready for a fight.

Mike's fist clenches at his side. "Yeah, I do."

"You've been making yourself crazy over this girl since the start of the semester, and I want to know why."

"What do you mean?" Mike doesn't know why he asks, has a pretty good idea of what Erwin is alluding to.

The blond still dodges the question but in about the worst way possible. "It's not like you two are exclusive or anything."

Mike feels the way his lungs fill to the point of burning, how his jaw clenches until his molars begin to ache under the pressure, and before he really knows what's happening, he's bowing up to his best friend.

Erwin matches him, only a couple inches shorter, chin tilted, that maddening light in his eyes.

"Walk away, Mike," he warns. "And, we can forget this little spat even happened."

Mike peers down his nose at him, trying to rein in his emotions because Erwin is right. You two aren't exclusive. You don't want to be. You told him it was because you need to focus on school, but it could be that you want other options.

But fuck, Mike doesn't want Erwin to be one of them. He's stolen more than a few girls right from under Mike's nose with his stupid charm and stupid face and stupid money. He doesn't want you to fall prey to all of it too.

Mike doesn't even register the quiet footsteps padding into the kitchen, but Levi's smartass, "You guys about to kiss or somethin'?" definitely snaps him out of his head.

Stepping back, Mike resists the urge to punch the counter and break his fucking hand, then turns and strides out.

He's supposed to stay at the ranch house for a couple more days, but Mike needs to distance himself before he does something stupid.

When he comes back downstairs with his bag on his shoulder and his keys in his hand, Erwin seems to realize his error on at least some level and stands from his place on the couch.

"Mike, come on, I'm sor—"

"Let me cool off, dude,” Mike snaps.

Erwin shuts his mouth and sits back down, smart enough not to follow Mike outside.

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #mels prima vista #mels frat house

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munsnz · 3 years ago

Text

TRICKS OF LIFE— STEVE HARRINGTON

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐯. — 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐔𝐬

overview: School is finally done, yet feeling off in the situation itself. The familiar boys including, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas get in contact with her to persuasion to investigate further information on the disappearance while Y/N works as an intern at the police department.

Taglist! — @itsnottilly

Navigation — Mixtape

Who knew that the day had gone like a blur, drifting off to classes and sessions, now Y/N was outside in the busy Hawkins High parking lot. From people driving away to their destinations to the freshmen walking off into the distance. Everything had been subtly normal, except for Y/N who had been aware of the odd disappearance of Will Byers. As she stood beyond the perimeter of the entrance, a few farewells were exchanged from Nancy, walking back to the Wheeler’s residence, three familiar boys biking nearby her. It had appeared that the specific, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and Dustin Henderson were approaching her in the buzzing lot. Quick waves and greetings, they all said hello along with the purpose of the trip.

”Little Hop!” The shouts from upfront were called for, the boys circling their way around her, Mike pushing the brakes next to the dumbfounded girl, standing awkwardly, “There’s something that went on-“

“I know, Will’s missing,” Y/N lifted her arms from her side, sighing loudly, the boys still catching their breath from the troubling trip to the high school, “There’s nothing we can do about it!”

Mike stood up abruptly, steadying his bike along with Lucas and Dustin, clearing his throat, “Yes we can! You’re an intern at the police department.”

The three middle schoolers stood quietly, in hopes of her agreeing with their statement of finding their lost friend. Y/N had always been on their side, ever since she met them, they were the troublemaking group of kids, buzzing around the town creating rumbles. Surprisingly, she frowned, looking off into the open, “Sorry, but from what my dad said, I’m afraid I can’t help this time. I was told not to investigate at a certain point.”

“Why not? You’ve always helped us,” Dustin began, walking next to her, strolling his bike as well, “You want the best for us right?”

“I do, but...... I need to listen to them.”

Lucas turned to Y/N who silently watched them, “There’s gotta be a reason though! Will is our friend, he’s missing. What if something happened to him?”

“That’s the police’s deal, not mine!” Y/N snapped at them who flinched at the odd action taken by her. Irritated, she looked to the distance, watching a group of boys around her age make these obnoxiously loud noises from afar.

Hearing the cryptic response, all of their jaws dropped, Y/N’s never acted so.......stern, bland, stubborn, like ever. Their expressions dim, surprised at hearing the prolonged answer they’ve never thought would turn up out of Y/N’s mouth. Frantically grabbing the bikes from the side, getting ready to pedal back home, Mike subtly shifted his glance towards the blank Y/N, waiting for them to leave, saying, “Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You’re supposed to be on our side.”

”I’m just listening to what they’re saying,” Y/N crosses her arms due to the frigid weather outside, prepared to be able to walk home. Watching their saddened faces gloom in the outside, Y/N felt this other urge of guilt; why was she acting up so much already? Will was her main priority, so why wasn’t she helping them? What if Will was in grave danger? Why was she being so ignorant?

As thoughts flood her head, bringing this awful feeling, not being able of what to do, she quickly places a comforting yet rapid hand onto Mike’s shoulder, catching him off guard, “Okay, it may seem as if I’m the bad guy, but at least I’ll try my best. I’ll let you know what goes on in the office, but under one condition, you guys cannot go investigate at all. Do you understand?”

Smiles brightening up, they rapidly nodded, a sense of relief that they’re going to be able to find Will sooner or later thanks to the girl’s help of her working as an intern to the most reliable place in search of safety of their friend. Happily, the boys rushed close up to Y/N, express their’s gratitude for her for the decision she made after the fulfilling thoughts convincing her instinct. After exchanging the thanks you’s and farewells, they biked away, in hopes of a successful retrieve of Will Byers. Y/N waved confidently as the rest biked away into the occupied sidewalks of students, a feeling of courage and determination swelling to her, walking away from the school premises to the Hawkins Police Department.

Maybe it was one of the longest walks Y/N had ever taken, and believe it or not, it was the shortcut to the center of the town where most residents would be, to walking and driving around the oddly empty area. After nearing herself to the familiar building, broadly directing the suitable location she was currently in, the police department. It was eerie since as predicted, almost all officers were in search of the Byers boy, maybe a few people coming out of the building, the sound of the car engines from behind, bringing her back to the present beyond thinking of different ways to gather resourceful information about the disappearance to satisfy her curious middle school friends.

It had been almost a year since Y/N got the job as an intern thanks to her extraordinary talent of persuasion for her dad, knowing that the department could use an extra hand for the little tasks. To top it off, she had also been passionate about following Jim’s footsteps in law enforcement, wanting to be an aspiring detective shortly.

Gallantly walking inside to find the ringing of phone calls and faint clicks coming from the rickety typewriter in the unoccupied office, the girl awkwardly walked inside the warm room, the smell of brunt cigarettes filling the essence, to find Florence, or as known, Flo organizing a few papers in the oddly organized desk.

“Hey Flo,” Y/N shuffled her feet, meeting her eyes with the woman, signaling her to come closer by the wooden table. In the quiet aura, more sound of the papers, making her eyes shift from side to side, trying to recognize files, names, dates containing in them.

Following the quiet mumbles of distress, the girl gets up, in prospers of ruling a kind act towards Flo who had seemed wildly stressed in whatever deal she was in, to trot by the counter, finding the area of the usual coffee stand. Y/N gently pours in the hot pot of water in the porcelain cup, later adding a spoonful of the instant coffee mix, stirring it to when it blended evenly, as her mind filled with phrases or questions for any information about Will had been released.

At last, Y/N cleared her throat watching behind her to see the frazzled woman as she allowed the light gush of vanilla creamer into the dull substance inside the mug. She places her hand on her chin, leaning against the counter to watch the heavy fluid smoothly blend with the dark-shaded one, a satisfying view to one.

“Have you seen Victor anywhere?!” A familiar perky voice chirped tensely behind Y/N, disassociating her from the soothing visual upon her.

As the girl shook her head in response, she gripped onto the filled mug, placing it on the top of the surface, bringing a piece of sweet bread along with a napkin for herself. Given a seat on the thick cushion, she pushed the mug towards Flo, “I saw him in Chemistry, but I don’t think he came into the office. But here’s coffee to relieve the stress.”

Continuing, placing the papers around the desk, Flo solemnly smiled, accepting the hot drink, “Thank you, dear, that silly boy is probably wandering around with others. Kids these days and their irresponsibilities.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Y/N takes a bite from the bread, hearing the lady with glasses mumble nonsense about the theory of how pop culture influenced the younger generation of teenagers, turning them into rebels.

Seemingly, Y/N tried in the most awkward moment to speak up about Will, after the tense conversation Flo was having with herself, multitasking in filing papers, clearing her throat, “What happened to Will?”

“Will?” In a millisecond, the big-eyed woman shifted her glance upwards to get a glimpse of the girl who had a worrisome look on her face, raising her eyebrows a little, “Will Byers right? The missing boy?”

Y/N confidentially nodded, biting her bottom lip for an answer, her hands coming together, “Yeah, my dad came in a few hours ago at school to ask me where he was last seen.”

”Oh, yeah,” Flo’s eyebrows furrow, trying to recall any updates on the search for the boy, she clicks her tongue, adjusting her seat, “Well, from what Jim told me, they recently found the boy’s bike in the woods near the dead-end near Mirkwood.”

”The woods?” The girl’s E/C colored eyes widened, feeling that same sick sensation in her stomach, something bad could’ve happened to Will. But shaking the thoughts away, she mentally took notes from the location, for her fellow friends, “Anything else? I’m just really worried about him.”

Scrunching her face, Flo leaned closer to the girl’s face who pawned over any conclusions made, with a hushed tone, “Just between us, I think it was Lonnie, the boy’s dad who probably took him.”

“I don’t think so I mean something else could’ve happened,” Y/N shrugs, speechless of the comment made, but also being in complete denial of that accusation made so quickly.

Suddenly she was cut off with a voice from the ham radio, making it impossible to hear the communication clearly on the side counter. As Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance, she stood up from the chair, tuning the frequency higher enough to hear better to listen to the chief’s deep voice, “Flo are you there? Hello?”

”Oh yes it’s me, Florence!” The female teenager mimicked sarcastically through the radio, overhearing her father groan deeply, the sound of the background being able to be caught on the machine.

Hopper chuckles a little, earning a small grin on his daughter’s face while she slides back down on the comfortable chair, “Yeah very funny kid, you should be on Carson one day.”

”I know right? So what’s up Big Hop!”

Toning down his voice to be grouchier like before, he ordered sternly, “Well, tell Flo to organize a search party right by Mirkwood around 7 o’clock.”

”Wait a search party?” Y/N’s happy tone faded away, unsettling her, as she anxiously twirling her finger onto the radio chord connecting to the main machine, “Is this seriously? Can I come? What if-“

Another interruption. Sheesh, whoever let this girl talk in peace? Oh right the brunette with oval glasses who rushed inside to throw his jacket to a rack, quietly mumbling words to himself until he spoke up, “Sorry I’m late, I was caught up with Mr. Benson.”

”About time boy!” Flo glares at the slender, lanky teenager, clapping her hands up in the air to make a racket, “You airhead, we called you an hour ago, it’s irresponsibility! You’re going to get nowhere with that commitment of yours Victor.”

Victor’s mouth hung open at the tactless observation from the audacious lady, raising his eyebrows, he barked back, “Yeah but you didn’t hear the part where I was clearly at school!”

”No you were probably being some hobo on the streets-“

”Can you two just shut up!” Y/N shouted, waving her arms in the air to signal them to keep it down, later focusing her attention back to the stereo, “Jesus I cannot keep up with them.”

Scoffs being heard on the other line, Hopper responds with a jokingly tone, “My exact thoughts when you ramble about everything. Now, let the Hawkins paper know about the search party being held later a during the evening.”

”Wow, that’s just mean dad,” She rolls over to grab a blue ink ballpoint pen, along with a sheet of lined paper to mark down any important data for the event, chicken scratch letters splayed across the page, “So what else do you need pop?”

”That's about it, but I want the information out as soon as possible for the townsfolk to know, you got that?” Hopper ordered, saluting a goodbye after catching the background noise of Victor and Flo arguing about responsibility in the law world for future reference.

Y/N quickly scribbled on the last of the dictation from her father, leaving the radio back to its default position near the main machine, sliding the paper in front of Flo who was near threatening to hit Spencer with a telephone, “You guys seriously need to act mature enough.”

”Excuse me? I’m a fifty-year-old woman teaching a scrawny boy how to behave and not to talk back to adults!” She huffs, throwing herself back onto the chair belonging to the desk, squinting her eyes to look at the writing for directions, “Your handwriting needs work dear. But Victor needs to call the Hawkins Post or announce it somewhere and do something for good.”

Rolling his dark eyes, Victor snatches the flattened paper off the lady’s hands, walking towards the office phone calling in regards to the additional details to the post. Meanwhile, Y/N slouches on the chair, her jacket crinkle, reading a few files based on last week’s headlines, “Can I help to search for Will?”

”Can I come too?” Victor calls out from the corner, waving a hand in the air, suddenly getting caught off guard by the other person on the phone line and getting back into the conversation after dozing off, mumbling, “I’m sorry it was just a colleague of mine talking to me about the investigation.”

Time was dozing off until Flo agreed to let the two teenagers come along for the search party, organizing and setting out a clean stack of papers in front of Y/N, “Now stop your unproductive babbling and sort these out to keep them in storage.”

”Yes ma'am,” Y/N uttered calmly, still feeling proud and occupied due to her letting Dustin and the rest know this semi-confidential for the search of their friend. Now were they all going to be lucky and find success in finding Will in safety on this night, or are there many more occurrences to come?

#Steve Harrington #steve Harrington x reader #steve Harrington fanfic #steve harrington series #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington x Hopper reader #Stranger things #stranger things x reader #Stranger things Fanfiction #Steve Harrington angst #Steve Harrington fluff #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington fanfic navigation #Steve Harrington x you #Jopper #dnd

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teawaffles · 3 years ago

Text

The Fugitives from the Fire: Chapter 7

“You’ve been a big help, Holmes. I really appreciate it every time.”

After the case had been closed. With the truth uncovered, the furious locals had been mollified; somehow, they’d managed to avoid the worst-case scenario. Now Sherlock and Lestrade were on their way back in a carriage, and the inspector gave him a deep bow.

Facing him, the detective broke into a wry smile.

“You should be thanking Gregson. In various ways, today was certainly both unorthodox and entertaining, but don’t get me wrong — he was the star of the show.”

As he said that, Sherlock felt as though he were a mother bird watching her chick leave the nest. Perhaps Gregson hadn’t wanted to share a ride with him: after the incident had been wrapped up, the assistant inspector had already made preparations to leave.

Hearing that, Lestrade scratched his cheek as he nodded.

“That’s true as well. He often jumps to conclusions, but for today’s case, his information provided some big clues.”

“Not only that, the deductions he made towards the end were rather sharp. I did give him some hints about the trick; but the fact that he was able to reach those conclusions from that alone is a testament to his ability.”

Thinking back to Gregson’s successes, Sherlock’s expression softened into a smile. But suddenly, it morphed into a serious mien, and he stared out the window. Seeing that, Lestrade pursed his lips.

——Just before they’d left the scene of the crime. as Mike Myers was about to be hauled off into another carriage, Sherlock called out to him.

“Say, there’s something I wanted to ask you. Your methods were certainly novel…… But to carry them out, you had to purposely book a room below the victim’s. Moreover, you couldn’t be sure if the shot would be fatal after the bullet passed through the ceiling, and if the officers had been deployed differently, you wouldn’t even have been able to carry out your plan — I get the feeling there were an awful lot of places where you were banking on pure luck. To be frank, it was your misfortune that the bullet had exited the body, since the wound’s condition allowed us to eliminate the possibility of suicide. Though, it would’ve been difficult to even go so far as to calculate whether the bullet would pass through completely.”

“…………”

Stopped in his tracks, Mike gazed at the detective with an oddly cold stare.

Sherlock continued. “Also, I’m not quite convinced of your motive: although your face was burned, if the three of you were rounded up as suspects and placed in an identity parade before the other fugitive, he would’ve ratted you out immediately. We’d conducted the investigation on the assumption that you wanted to silence him, but was that really your objective?”

Mike responded in an ominously quiet tone.

“Banking on luck, huh. You’re absolutely right: I was doubtful myself as to whether this plan would succeed.”

“Oh? Then why did you do it?”

Mike looked vacantly at the sky.

“Why, you ask? If I had to say—— it’s because I wanted to try it.”

“……You just wanted to try it?”

“When we went at that inn after hearing rumours about the Yard, this plan suddenly came to me. So I booked a different room from him, and only told him the escape plan for when the bobbies arrived. Then when I was sure the police were nearby, I started the fire without telling him……. Part of me wanted to avoid being sold out. But more than that, it was fun setting up this kind of scheme.”

“You mean to say, you killed for fun?”

“It’s a strange feeling. I know murder is bad; until now, even though I’ve committed numerous crimes, I’ve never hurt anyone for no reason. But after joining that attack on the department store the other day, when I saw that man, Jake Voorhees — something within me changed……. No, it was crushed.”

“……This Jake, he’s the mastermind behind that incident, huh.”

“That guy worked according to a different set of morals from the rest of us. To inflict such sickening cruelty without blinking…… Even as it disgusted me, it made me wonder if the ethics and morals I believed in were, in fact, nothing more than frightfully small and silly ideas.”

“…………”

“Well, if I think about it more, I’m sure there are many other reasons. But I killed him because I wanted to. That’s my motive, Mr Detective.”

Mike uttered those words in an intensely gentle voice, before he was taken away and put onto a carriage. Both Sherlock and Lestrade looked on in disgust.

——Thinking back to that horrifying exchange, a grave silence descended over them.

“……A senseless murder is truly frightening.”

“More than that, this Jake was truly abnormal to have been able to influence him to that extent.”

He didn’t want to talk about this case any more than he had to, and so Sherlock Holmes kept his mouth shut. The truth had left a bad taste in his mouth, as well as an agitation in his heart. Just then, he recalled one of the suspects from the case.

Judging from how the events leading up to the crime had unfolded, it was highly likely that someone had led the two fugitives to the inn. Sherlock had supposed it’d be the “Lord of Crime” who would do such a thing, but his objectives for doing so were yet unclear.

The only element he could think of was that man, Jerry Dorff…….

“In the end, who was he……?”

“Hm? What’re you talking about?”

Sherlock shook his head. “Never mind. It’s about a trifling ‘riddle’. Anyway, I’m sure he’s long gone by now.”

“………?”

The detective put an end to the conversation; a short while later, the carriage arrived outside his apartment. It was now late into the evening, and the setting sun shone across the home he’d grown so familiar with, dyeing it in a warm colour. Today’s extraordinary case and that troublesome companion had drained him, both physically and mentally; without realising it, Sherlock let out a huge sigh.

“Well then, please send my regards to that naggy assistant inspector. And tell him I’ll never be his assistant again.”

“Gregson told me the same thing as well. I’ll be seeing you then, if there’s a case.”

“Yeah. I’ll be waiting for a tough one.”

Saying his goodbyes, Sherlock stepped off the carriage, and Lestrade bowed once again. Then, after he signalled the driver, the carriage set off at a brisk pace through the city streets.

Sherlock waited until it disappeared around a corner to send him off. Then he entered the building, climbing the stairs while gently rotating his shoulders, and opened the door to his apartment.

“O—i, I’m done for the day~”

As he listlessly announced his return home, two familiar voices called back out to him.

“Welcome home.”

“Welcome back……. Also, I’m home, Sherlock.”

He looked inside, and saw John H Watson standing there with a kind smile on his face. Apparently, he’d also just arrived home.

“Oh, good work today, both of you.”

As he looked at his partner’s face, at long last, Sherlock felt himself unwind all the way to the very depths of his heart. Replete with exhaustion, he sank into his armchair.

Such was the state of Sherlock before him, and John spoke up in apology.

“Sorry; I heard it was a difficult case today, yet I couldn’t accompany you.”

“It’s alright. It’s not like you can be here all the time, anyway: there’re times like this too.”

“……I see.”

Perhaps John had been anticipating a barrage of grumbles and complaints; in response, he gave Sherlock a slightly relieved, or perhaps even lonely smile.

Picking up on that delicate and complicated mesh of emotions, the detective continued.

“……After all, you’re my only partner, John.”

At those words, John went a little pink.

“I-I see……. Hearing that face to face, is a little embarrassing.”

“Yeah, somehow it sounds like the greatest detective in the world wants his assistant to be his lifelong companion, huh.”

Miss Hudson had said that in a teasing tone, and in a breath, the atmosphere had settled into an amicable one. Breaking into a smile, Sherlock was just about to crack a retort — when the face of that assistant inspector, with whom he’d spent more than half a day, surfaced in his mind.

In an instant, his entire body felt heavy as lead.

“Aah, in the end, it’s a good thing you’re my partner…… At least, I’ll never pair up with that guy again.”

As John and Miss Hudson smiled before him, Sherlock muttered in a somewhat weary tone.

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #the girl who sees rainbows #illustration insert

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 3 years ago

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The Part-Time Puppeteer - Chapter 08

<= Chapter 7

Summary : Lukas gets a chance against one of the biggest actors ever known.

Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828971/chapters/81316792

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The duel you had all been awaiting for... THERE IT IS. I hope you'll like it !

Thank you, Tumblr, for making this chapter so fucking hard to post, I appreciate it, really. /s

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Chapter 8 - “So you came back... As I had planned.”

The role of the Moonjumper was both an interesting and a boring one- at least, this is what Lukas had thought to himself while he had been learning his lines. It wasn’t that this character was a bad one, no, far from it. But he was… Predictable, unoriginal in some ways even. The young man hadn’t noticed it really, while simply reading the text in his mind. But once he had said the lines out loud… This is when it started to get apparent. Of course, he had told himself he was merely a law student, so what could he know about fiction and how to interpret it? He was no specialist in that field. And yet, this is the impression the role gave to him. Not a bad one, but not a perfect one.

In short, there was room for improvement. However, this hadn’t been on his mind, or not for too long. After all, he had other preoccupations other than thinking about that. The first one had been to learn these lines, and the second and most important one… Was to teach that bastard of an actor that sometimes life could get back at you for your attitude.

And apparently, now was the moment for it.

With a wave of confidence caused by his anger towards the diva, Lukas opened his mouth and put a start to what seemed to be a duel between the two of them.

-“So you came back,” he murmured with a little smile, moving the puppet upwards, as if it were looming over Hat Kid or, in this case, MJ: “As I had planned.”

-“You took something from me,” retorted MJ, with a determined intonation that was completely different from his arrogant, usual self. This man was no doubt a very skilled actor. Even if he looked nothing like a little girl… He still managed to give the same vibes, by his movements, his expression and his voice. It was truly impressing, though the student couldn’t care much at the moment.

He needed to focus, to get himself in character… In this very instant, the young man was a mysterious and powerful entity who had been imprisoned in his own dimension for centuries. He was a monster that would lure his victims in, never for them to be seen again. What did he do with them? The script wasn’t clear about that, though there were traces that hinted he would turn them into puppets.

Quite a scary thing for a kids’ show.

The student was struggling to move the puppet with precision, due to how it was made. It was the same kind of puppet who had strings linking it to a wooden cross. It was practical in a way where he didn’t have to touch the puppet directly to move it… But on the other hand, it meant that he couldn’t do precise or specific gestures with it. This meant he would need to put extra effort on his acting, so that it would compensate the lack of gesture he could do.

Well, he hoped this wouldn’t be too noticeable… Trying his best to make the puppet raise its hand, he continued playing:

-“Oh, you mean this, perhaps?” Having no props on the scene with him made it less immersive, but thankfully, the rest of the dialogue was enough for everyone to understand what the Moonjumper was talking about: “This hourglass of yours… A powerful artifact, yes?”

Lukas’ tone was calm, reserved, but it wouldn’t last- later in the scene, the Moonjumper would become more agitated. Actually, the directives on it didn’t say he was going to get mad, per se. Still, when he read those lines, he was… Disappointed in the entity’s attitude. For a bad guy, the latter was way too mild, too nice, and… Not threatening enough.

Not frightening enough.

-“That is none of your business,” the diva replied, his tone more aggressive. His stance had tensed, giving away how important this object was for the main character, and how crucial it was to get it back.

-“Oh, is that so?” Lukas made the puppet tilt its head to the side, approaching MJ dangerously. His tone had turned icy, bitter, as if what the main character had said weren’t such a good idea: “I believe it is quite my business, on the contrary, young child,” his murmur had lowered in volume as he made another step forward.

-“It’s mine!” MJ’s voice had talked back, his expression showing a mix of anger, despair, and persistence.

-“Is it? Is it, really?” he snarled in response, starting to raise his tone a little- this was the time to put his improvisation on the table. At this point, it was make or break: “Maybe you’re lying. Perhaps you stole it. Who is there to say? Do you even know how much I need it?”

The diva in front of him seemed taken aback by him not respecting the stage direction completely. It didn’t last long, and soon enough, the hint of a smirk could be seen on the other’s face, even if just for a second. It quickly disappeared, as the actor didn’t want to break character. But Lukas saw it, and it simply enraged him.

At least, his fury in the next moments was not going to be faked.

-“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” the ‘little girl’ screamed at him, getting closer to confront him: “This isn’t a toy, this isn’t… Some weird stuff that you can use for yourself! It’s… It belongs to me, to… To my people!”

Okay, this was it, this was the most embarrassing moment of this whole scene. God, he wanted to cringe so hard just thinking about what he was going to do, but… This exact thing was the reason he got the role to begin with. So, realistically, it meant… That it was maybe his secret weapon.

Shit, that sounded so fucking stupid.

The student let out a snort, one that started to get louder and louder as seconds passed. This wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a cruel giggle, but… This scene was the finale, was something people had to remember after seeing that episode. It had to be… Intense! Full of passion, as Grooves would say, he supposed. And so… His mind conjured a picture he would never, ever forget.

MJ falling down the day before. MJ getting angry, humiliated before the entire crew, losing his job against a nobody, a simple stagehand who had been hired the same day. And, just like that… Lukas burst out laughing, his hysterical giggles echoing all around, sending shivers to the spectators as it continued. For years, the young man had been shamed for his way of laughing. His entire childhood had been spent hiding that part of him from the others, so he wouldn’t be judged and mocked for something he couldn’t even control. And here, for the first time of his entire life…

Lukas was laughing without being (too) scared of the way people would react in consequence. This was… Absolutely freeing, to feel like he could be himself, just a few instants…!

-“You think I see this as a toy? Don’t be silly, young child… This,” he spoke again, his voice dark, lifting the doll’s hand again: “… Is my salvation, the key to my esca-”

-“Okay, cut, that’s enough,” Lukas was interrupted by a familiar voice, the investor’s. His face paled up- wait, they hadn’t finished the scene, why would that man stop them? Did… Did he do wrong? He gulped down, starting to regret taking initiatives. What was he thinking? If he had a script, it was to respect it! Why did he choose the riskiest solution?! Couldn’t he just stick to the plan?!

He turned to the investor, a look of fear and confusion written all over his face. At his sides, MJ’s acting mask fell, only to be replaced by a smug expression, as he approached the student. Leaning towards him, so that only he could hear, the actor whispered:

-“You didn’t even respect your text,” the diva mocked him: “What, you thought it was a good idea to improvise? Or were you just too stupid to read the stage directions?”

Lukas glared at him, gritting his teeth- but his arch nemesis was right. He had taken initiatives and, in hindsight, this really hadn’t been the opportunity for it. This was an exam, a duel, in which they both had to prove who was a better actor. When would a good actor question a director’s orders?

The young man’s cheeks blushed both in anger and embarrassment. His eyes fell on the Conductor and DJ Grooves- both looked disappointed and perhaps a little angry. They were most likely thinking that he had just wasted a golden opportunity- he didn’t think he had acted badly, he was pretty sure his laughter had been a great addition, but his wasn’t about that.

It was about respecting the directors’ wishes, which he hadn’t done.

In an instant, Lukas’ attitude went from confidence to utter embarrassment. Oh, how he wished he could just hide underground, never to be seen again. Next to him, in comparison, MJ was simply beaming. In the distance, Mike’s expression was a mix of sadness and frustration. As for the rest of the crew… Lukas just couldn’t look at them.

It was too much. His anxiety was eating him from the inside, feeding on his self doubts, on his fears, and on how much he wanted to get out of here. Please, couldn’t he hear that he was downgraded to being a stagehand again?

The wait was unbearable.

The investor had remained silent for a few seconds, staring into space. Eventually, his eyes went back up to the two actors, and he sighed, visibly conflicted. But conflicted about what? There wasn’t anything to be conflicted about! The young man clenched his fists, trying to focus on the pain of his nails scratching his palms instead. The longer it lasted, the more he could feel his emotions getting out of control. If it continued, then… Well, he could already feel some tears making their way up to his eyes.

Oh, no, no, please, no, not in public- not next to MJ, out of every-fucking-one!

His mind went silent as he saw the investor looking at him, his face serious. This was it.

-“You don’t fit the role,” he said sternly, and Lukas felt his heart sink in his chest- he knew it, he fucking knew it, he shouldn’t have tried to take risks! This wasn’t his forte, he should have stuck to rules like he always had!

-“Well, isn’t that a surprise,” a sarcastic scoff left the actor’s lips at his sides, only making the student feel even worse than he already was: “Who could have ever thought hiring a stagehand to do some professional work was a bad idea- oh, yeah. I did,” the asshole’s voice became serious, sending huge and bitter “I told you so” vibes.

God, Lukas just wanted to punch his face so bad…! And the humiliation he was feeling wasn’t helping him either- fuck, fuck, he could feel the urge to cry getting harder and harder to suppress.

The investor raised his hand, his expression still as serious as before:

-“I’m not finished,” he interrupted the other’s celebration before crossing his hands, lost in thoughts: “This… Is not something I had expected, I have to admit that much.”

-“Wha-” MJ seemed confused and tilted his head to the side, frowning: “What do you mean?” he pressed the older man, visibly not liking where this was going. Lukas was just as confused as him, not really understanding where the other was getting at. And, to be fair, so was everyone else in the room, especially the two directors, who exchanged a perplexed look.

What the hell was going on?

It took approximately thirty, long seconds for the investor to find his words, and he crossed his arms, looking back at the student.

-“You don’t fit the role, because this character doesn’t fit you.”

There was a short silence in the room, before MJ broke it, an insincere smile taking place onto his lips:

-“I’m sorry,” he snorted sarcastically: “This role doesn’t fit him because he doesn’t know how to act,” the jerk enunciated, as if it were obvious- and it was. Still, the other shook his head and tapped the script resting on his legs with the back of his fingers.

-“No, he does. But his acting doesn’t fit a character like this,” he explained better, and he opened the script to continue: “See, I only got to read the script before, today is the first time I’m seeing it actually being rehearsed. And it made me notice that… This character isn’t good. In fact, he’s bad.”

This last statement cast a chill in the room, making people frown in confusion and incomprehension. However, for the two directors, it was more than that. It was more pronounced, more… Visible.

-“Wh- What d’you mean?” the Conductor exclaimed, holding his own copy of the script and flipping the pages frantically. DJ Grooves was more reserved, but he was clearly furrowing his brow, shaking his head:

-“But… But we sent you the script a few times, and you validated this version,” he retorted: “I don’t understand why suddenly this character is bad to you.”

The investor pointed at the two young men on the scene, his head turning back to look at the directors:

-“It’s one thing to read the script, and it’s another to experience it. The Moonjumper is bland, he doesn’t have any personality, he looks like any other bad guy, he feels… Unoriginal. I’m honestly feeling like I was watching something made by teenagers.”

It was clear that this last sentence deeply offended the two men, and Grooves had to grab the Conductor’s arm, so that the latter could keep his mouth shut. But, oh, it was obvious they wanted to talk back. Still, it was best to be polite with the person funding your entire project.

-“Which is why you need a good actor,” MJ tried to interject, placing his hand over his heart as he tried to persuade the benefactor to choose him instead. But he was soon cut short by the man’s voice again, disagreeing with him:

-“No, MJ, you don’t understand. This character is badly written, and this puppet,” he nodded to the object still in Lukas’ hands: “… Is too scary for kids. On one hand, you have this character without any personality, and on the other, you have this puppet which design has to change.”

At the mention of the puppet, a familiar person moved across the crowd to join the conversation. Without much surprise, it was Mike, whose expression showed concern and confusion:

-“W-wait,” he called out to the investor, not knowing what to do with his own hands: “I don’t… I was asked to make a scary puppet, I-”

-“And you did way too much. Furthermore… Our friend here had some trouble moving the puppet around,” he pointed to the student, whose face paled up as everyone’s eyes glanced at him. Oh, shit, no, he didn’t want to be implicated in this…!

-“This puppet wasn’t made with the idea of interacting with props. It can’t hold things and even if it could, it seems complicated to make it express emotions or body language. In short, I want the puppet to be redesigned entirely.”

Mike’s face paled at the investor’s decision, and Lukas couldn’t blame him. It was months of work thrown away like it was nothing. He was about to say something against it, but MJ beat him to it, defending his brother for the student’s greatest surprise:

-“And you had to wait until it was finished to say something about it?” the actor’s tone was getting more aggressive as he gestured at his brother: “He spent nights working on that! And you decide to just… Scrap it away?!”

Lukas… Really hadn’t expected the other to care, especially with how the latter had thrown the puppet to the floor the day before. Then again, they were twins, and Mike did seem to care about his brother… So maybe the feeling was mutual, just… Unbalanced, perhaps?

-“I know, and I take full responsibility for that,” retorted the man with determination: “The other reason I want a redesign is that I want this character to change. I want another one instead, one that is original, and not… The typical cliché of a bad guy.”

Before MJ was able to talk back, the Conductor interjected, his expression really showing he wasn’t liking anything that was being said at the moment.

-“Are you serious?!” he finally snapped, his Scottish accent more audible than ever: “Do you expect us to rewrite the entire thing?! After all the time it took us?!”

Grooves tried to calm the Conductor down, but it was in vain. All he could do was to push him lightly to the side, before the other reacted violently by shoving him back, not wanting to be touched, especially by him. Still, that got the message across, and DJ Grooves got the opportunity to talk:

-“It’s… Not possible to rewrite anything, the deadlines are too short for our budget and-”

-“In that case, if this is the way to avoid a catastrophic show, then I’ll fund this project for a little longer. But I do not want to see my money being wasted on some poorly written story,” he sighed, obviously aware of how much his words had irritated the entire crew, who was now glaring daggers at him: “I know I am responsible for saying that too late, which is why I will give you more time and money to adjust tactics. But this,” he gestured to the puppet and the script: “… Has to change. I’m not asking for a complete rework of the script, but I want us to talk about the modifications we need to implement.”

After the announcement regarding the deadlines being postponed, the crew did lose some animosity, though it was still very much there, especially for the two directors who had to rewrite a good chunk of what they thought was a final version. Mike, in comparison, looked much more disappointed and sad than anything else, which made Lukas feel bad for him. He wanted to comfort his friend, trying to encourage him- but before he even could, MJ’s voice rose again in the room, catching everyone’s attention once more:

-“And what about the original problem, hm?” he urged the benefactor: “If there’s no Moonjumper anymore, then… What about the new character?” He then gestured at Lukas as if he were showing something disgusting- and yeah, that was pretty insulting: “You’re not… Going to choose an inexperienced stagehand for a major role, are you? You need someone who knows how to act, not… Not someone who can’t even respect the stage directions!”

The student gritted his teeth again- but he couldn’t deny the last point, as it was true. Then again, that didn’t mean he couldn’t defend himself:

-“At least, I respect other people,” he mumbled, loud enough for the diva to hear. Unsurprisingly, the latter turned to him, his eyes wide and his expression furious:

-“Excuse me?!” he retorted, outraged: “I know what acting is, and it’s following the script!”

-“Oh sure, that’s clearlymore important than being a decent human being!” the young man rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. This seemed to be what made the actor snap. The latter rushed towards him, his fist raised, prepared to hit- but thankfully, Mike knew his brother enough to anticipate it, and he dashed to grab his twin by the waist, stopping him.

-“MJ, cut it out!” yelled the puppet maker, and Lukas couldn’t help but be taken aback, not used to seeing Mike so… Angry. And yet, it was barely enough to keep MJ from trying to punch the student- he was trying to break out of his brother’s hold. Lukas couldn’t help but step back, in case the actor did manage to shove his twin aside. But it didn’t happen. Instead, the diva slowly lowered his fist, glaring at his rival with pure hatred in his eyes.

-“Will you pleasefucking stop?!” the benefactor’s loud voice called out to the group. When they all turned their head back to him, his face showed nothing but anger and annoyance. That sent shivers down Lukas’ spine, and he tensed, facing the man again like a well-behaved child. Next to him, MJ glared at the man before rolling his eyes, soon imitating his arch nemesis. Mike, upon seeing his brother had calmed down, let go of him and made a few steps back as well.

Okay, seemed like this day was getting as agitated as the previous one… Was this going to be the case for every single day? He… Didn’t know if he could handle that.

The investor let out a long, exaggerated sigh before pinching his nose, irritation written all over his face.

-“I’m… Ugh… Okay, fine. For this new character, and my decision will be final… I want the newbie on it.”

Lukas’ heart stopped beating, his eyes widening in astonishment. Wait, wait, wh-

-“What?!” the diva’s voice soon echoed around them, his tone enraged and scandalized: “You can’t be serious, he’s just-”

-“I said that my decision was final,” the benefactor reaffirmed his choice, giving the actor a very stern look of disapproval: “And if you’re unhappy with that, then you are more than welcome to leave. If you finally decide to act like an adult, then I will give you another role. But let me tell you, MJ, you’re on thin fucking ice, right now.”

The diva shot him yet another glare, his fists clenched and trembling from how livid he was. Both of them seemed to try and assert their dominance over the other… But eventually, MJ looked away and stormed off, kicking a chair as he moved through the room. It took him only a few seconds to reach the door and slam it behind him, leaving the set after another tantrum. Mike, just like the day before, quickly followed him, most likely to comfort him or at least calm him down.

In the meantime, Lukas was just… Existing, barely realizing what had been said to him. This… This was a dream, right? He was still in the workshop, taking an impromptu nap, this couldn’t be possible in real life…! And yet, it was all very real. In the back, the Conductor and Grooves seemed to have conflicted emotions: on one hand, they were very upset by the idea of rewriting a good part of their story, but on the other hand… They wouldn’t have to worry about that asshole’s attitude anymore. Still, they seemed just confused as him as to why he had been chosen. Yeah, seemed like improvising wouldn’t have been a good idea, but… Maybe in this particular case, it helped to highlight the Moonjumper’s lack of personality.

In a way… Probably not something to do in the future from now on.

Suddenly, the student was brought back to reality as he felt a hand over his shoulder, and he jumped, not expecting the sudden contact. He looked in front of him, his eyes focusing on the person he was facing: the benefactor. The latter still wasn’t smiling, and his expression was still irritated, but it didn’t seem directed at him at least:

-“Well, congrats, I guess. You did good.”

Lukas remained silent for a moment, not knowing how to answer or what to say. Eventually, he stammered a quick “thank you”, his mind still having trouble to process what had just happened.

He had the role- holy shit, he had managed to get the role, and against MJ at that!

The man pulled away and turned to the directors, telling them things Lukas could barely hear over the cacophony his minds was making. Still, inside him… A feeling of pride and accomplishment was growing, enveloping him. A wave of excitement followed, and it was hard not to jump around in pure joy and satisfaction.

Maybe this day wasn’t so bad after all…

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

=> Chapter 09

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sevensided · 4 years ago

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how did you get into writing fic? i'd love to start but idk even where to begin! I loved adats so I was wondering do you have any advice?

Oh my goodness! I am so flattered you’ve asked me this. Yes, I can absolutely help. I’ll throw a bunch of rambling under the cut.

I started writing fic probably when I was... sixteen years old? A lot of my early works were oneshots. I couldn’t figure out how to do anything plot heavy for the life of me, so I just stuck to AUs or whatever I felt like. I wasn’t in any particular fandom -- I really wrote whatever I had ideas for. I remember I tried once to do a plot-heavy story and I received a review absolutely ripping it to shreds. Like, it was so cruel I cried lol. I ended up deleting the fic. Years later, I get what they were trying to say (basically, more substance, less style), but at the time it cut to the quick. Really, it was only when I was in my twenties that I started writing work that was longer and/or better.

The fandom that helped me actually write plot heavy work was a historical-based fandom. As I’m a historian, it was perfect. I got to use my research skills and knowledge to create works that, above all, aimed to feel authentic. I mainly read historical fiction, so I was familiar with how that genre worked. Miraculously, people loved my work. I think I wrote about ~200k in the period of a year? These were several short stories (20-40k) and a few oneshot filler fics. While I was part of this fandom I also helped organise a Big Bang which was a lot of hard work but was extremely rewarding. Along with that, I interacted mainly with other fic writers, so I spent a lot of time chatting to people about ideas and encouraging other writers, and it just created a lovely medley where no concept was impossible or any line of dialogue too difficult. We supported each other and it was truly like a little commune. I gradually stepped away from the fandom mainly because it was just a part of my life at a very specific time, and almost as soon as that time was over, my love for that story/ship faded, but I firmly believe I figured out a lot of how/what I do now purely through that experience.

Regarding ADATS

With ADATS, it stemmed entirely from wanting to “explain” three months in canon (at the end of season three). I was interested in the idea of season four setting up Will/Mike in canon, and I wanted to test the source material to see if I could draw from what already existed to create something authentic. I began with that simple idea: what happened from July to October in 1985? Then I thought about the major themes I wanted to hit -- family, friendship, coming of age, sexuality -- and I nested them around the bigger concept: how do I get Mike from being ostensibly straight to realising he is gay? That meant thinking of two steps: Mike discovering his attraction to guys; Mike discovering his attraction to Will. Those two concepts were separate “arcs” that needed addressing in different ways. Balance was key to weaving them together and making the reader feel like they knew what was coming (and that they felt smart for putting the pieces together) without just rushing through and going “now kiss!” That’s partly why ADATS needs a sequel, lol: because it’s not finished!

Writing process

The first thing I do when I start to get an idea is I write it down. Sounds obvious. But when you have a killer line of dialogue come to you in the shower and you think “I’ll remember that” -- reader, you will not remember it. You gotta get it down ASAP! I do that the whole way through, as generally I’ll be thinking of scenes I’m stuck on and then it’ll just come to me and I’ll quickly jot it down.

The next thing -- or what I do in the meantime -- is start structuring. I plan. I try to plan a lot. Sometimes it’s okay to write “and something happens here to get them here”, because you’ll figure it out later, but for the most part I’ve discovered that planning is like gold and you can’t get enough of it. I break my work up into generally 3-4 parts/sections, and I treat each section like a mini story. So each part needs a conflict and resolution, and it needs to flow into the next section. You need to have a feeling of things evolving and maturing. Once I’ve planned those little bits, I start thinking about the bigger plot arc and how I can drop in hints along the way. I’m probably not a subtle or skilled enough writer to yet pull off that sort of gasping twist you get in really excellent books, but I’m trying to get there. It’s hard, is what I’m trying to say, but that’s okay, because we’re all learning.

Then I generally do aesthetic stuff. Sounds stupid, probably. But nothing helps me get more into a mood than doing a Pinterest board or -- most of all -- making a Spotify mix. I start thinking about the vibe and the general atmosphere, and then I almost exclusively listen to that mix when I’m working. Sort of like muscle memory? Just to get the creative juices associated with that particular selection of songs.

Another thing I’ll do along with plot structure is character structure. This is a biggie. I mean, a story is nothing without characters. So I’ll just jot down a bunch of bullet points of characters and particular aspects that I want to highlight or remember. I hate continuity errors in fiction. Like, if someone says they work on Maple Street but later in the fic they’re working on Pine Street. I hate that. So I keep note of specific things that my main character might notice at repeated points in the story (colours, places, smells, names, sounds -- so they’re all consistent even as the narrative evolves). That’s another thing -- your characters’ motivations. Not everyone is going to be a huge player, but they all do serve a purpose. The most important character is obviously your main character. I personally think it’s important to let your M.C. be an arse at times. They’re going to be mean, they’re going to misinterpret things or fly off the handle... just let ‘em. Let them be wretched humans, and then bring them back and make them realise what they’ve done. Let them learn! I love consequences in fiction, lol.

At the same time, I’ll probably start writing. We’ve already written down some snippets of neat dialogue or descriptions, but now we should start the actual process. For me, I used to start at the beginning. Usually this was the most fleshed out anyway: I’ll have a clear idea of the beginning and the end, but nothing in the middle. These days, if I have a scene in mind that I can’t forget, I’ll just write it. It will possibly get scrapped or rewritten, but that’s okay, because at least you’ve got it down and now you can devote your brain power to something useful (like figuring out what the middle is supposed to be). I’ll have half a dozen of totally out of context scenes just littered in my Word document that I’ll add to as I go along. Eventually, though, you’re going to start writing properly, and that’s when you write your opening scene.

Opening scenes: super important. Every time I write a scene I think: what is the point of this? What do I want the reader to learn or takeaway? Sometimes you do have filler scenes, but they also serve a different purpose (perhaps to establish a group dynamic or to explore/describe a character’s surroundings). Mainly, though, every scene should push something forward in some way, whether it’s character development or a plot point. So, with an opening scene, I always think you have to establish: where you are; who you are; what they are doing; where they’ve come from (in a philosophical and practical sense); and where they’re going (ditto). That doesn’t have to happen in the first paragraph -- that would be silly. But if you sprinkle that information in over time it’ll gradually build up a picture of your character and that way the reader can get an idea of who they are. You basically need to give a snapshot of what your story is about. This also goes back to the character creator stuff: where they are at the start should be different to where they end up. How that happens is, of course, because of plot, and because you’ve structured everything to the nth degree, we’ve got a very clear progression of that character’s growth (/s easier said than done lol).

General advice

Write down everything: every idea, a bit of dialogue, a description, whatever. Write it down. Doesn’t have to be neat. Just has to be on paper. You can’t remember everything, so if you’re spending time trying to hold those things in your head, it’s taking up space for new ideas to come along.

Structure, plan, structure, plan. Sometimes it’s boring and I hate it. Other times, when I’ve not written in a few days and I open the Word doc and think wtf is this supposed to be, I am very grateful for Past Me for leaving such detailed notes. Seriously, it helps so much. Oneshots don’t really need planning, in my experience. You just get those out there. But multi-chaptered stories really do, even ones that “just” focus on a relationship.

Whatever you want to write, commit to it. Space goblins invade Hawkins? Do it. Eleven and Max find themselves in a cult akin to Midsommar (2019) and must escape? Yes. Just... whatever you want to do, remember that you’re writing it for you. Write what most interests you, what makes you when you reread it go AHHHHH I LOVE THIS!! Because that makes it a thousand times easier to actually get on with the writing when you enjoy what you’re doing.

Write a lot. Every day, if you can, or at least at designated times. Occasionally I have a very specific headspace/vibe I have to be in, but sometimes it just hits me and I’ll say to my partner “I need to write now” and just disappear, lol. The more you write the more you write. It’s so, so, so true. Cannot emphasise this enough. When I wrote that ~200k in twelve months? It was because I literally wrote every. day. Or near enough. Remember that some days you’ll write 200 words, and other days you’ll write 20k (this happened to me with ADATS -- part of the reason I finished it so quickly was because I had sprints of writing 10k+ at a time that only happened because I was in the rhythm of it). Write, write, write. Who cares if it’s crap! No one will see it until you are ready. In the meantime, just write!

Probably last of all (although I could go on and on) is connect with other writers. If you’re struggling to start, sometimes just talking about it can help a huge amount. I hope it goes without saying that you can message me whenever you want, anon or not, and I will talk to you. We can talk about ideas or I can beta stuff, whatever you want! Find like-minded people and talk to them about what you want to do. Another thing this helps is in advertising your work when you do publish. I see a lot of first time fic writers get super down because they publish their magnum opus on AO3 but no one comments. Honestly, it’s because no one knows you’ve published! You don’t have to be tooting your own horn every which way, but just actively talking about your work and even collaborating with other content creators with get you hyped and other people too (and the input and encouragement other fandom members give is just... out of this world. Anon messages helped me finish ADATS when I was really worried I wouldn’t [that’s the truth]. Seriously, support is everything). When you have people excited about your work, you get excited. It’s really as simple as that.

I could go on but this is already horrendously long. I hope even a bit of this helps! If you want to chat or have any more questions, just hit me up any time.

#writing tips #writing help #writing advice #answered #i really hope this helps/answers your question!#i can do something more structured if you want #otherwise here are just my initial thoughts #Anonymous

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winryofresembool · 4 years ago

Text

Caleo fic: It’s all about the name

Chapters 3-4(/5)

Summary: Calypso is a barista at a coffee shop and one day she gets a customer who refuses to give her his real name. At first he seems really annoying but eventually Calypso finds out not all is what it looks like on the surface. (Coffee shop AU!)

a/n: More updates! Only one more to go after these two chapters that I'm posting today. I would have loved to make this au even longer but time is a b*tch and I'm really itching to continue working on twlitf already.

Hope you enjoy and please do leave me comments because even if I have almost finished this fic, I definitely want to know what you guys think!

Words: 3,6k+

Genre: fluff, humor

Warnings: none

previous chapters / AO3

...

The next day, the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ showed up at the coffee shop just like he had promised. He didn’t have to ask for Calypso because she spotted him from afar, being rather easy to recognize. They didn’t have a lot of customers wearing an army jacket over an orange shirt, tools hanging from the pockets, and the bottom half being the work coveralls. At least he had left his backpack home this time, Calypso sighed with relief. She couldn’t deny, though, that in a weird way that outfit suited him. As she saw him more closely, she noticed he seemed pretty cheerful, which was probably a good sign. Or then he was just preparing to annoy her some more and was already looking forward to that. Calypso supposed she’d find out soon enough.

Either way, she stepped closer to the counter so the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ could see her better.

“So you did come,” she greeted him and he gave her that annoying grin of his that seemed to come so naturally.

“Why, of course,” he responded. “Couldn’t possibly have missed the opportunity to see the Sunshine again.”

“Are you flirting with me? Because I swear, if you are, it’s not going to work,” Calypso told him bluntly, still having her latest relationship too fresh in her mind.

“That’s crazy talk,” the guy responded, putting his hand over his chest. “How would I even dare to flirt with you? You’re way out of my league.”

“Out of your league? Uh, I don’t know about that,” Calypso mumbled, more to herself than to him. The broken relationships had left a mark on her self esteem and she didn’t consider herself as someone to be looked up to.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” the guy said, looking confused.

“Um, nothing,” Calypso tried to brush it off. “It was not relevant. But enough with that; what are you going to order? Remember, it’s on the house. Do you want the double espresso you ordered yesterday or something else?”

“I’d rather have something else,” the guy said, his gaze going back and forth between Calypso and the menu. “Truth to be told, I’m not big on coffee. I’ve noticed it makes me even more hyper than I already am. ADHD and all that good stuff, you know. Yesterday was a special occasion because I had to work overtime.”

“Alright, what will that something else be then?” Calypso asked, feeling that a lot of things about this guy already made more sense.

“Anything with no caffeine would be good. What would you rec? You’re the expert on your menu, after all,” he noted.

“Do you like sweet things?” Calypso asked.

“Sweet is fine, yeah,” the guy agreed.

“Then how about hot chocolate? We’re pretty generous with the whipped cream we add on it,” Calypso promised. “And we can even add marshmallows if you like those.”

“I think just the cream will be fine, don’t wanna be in a complete sugar coma when I need to go back to work,” the guy noted. “To go, by the way. I can’t stay long.”

“Fine, one hot chocolate without marshmallows coming then. Will you finally tell me your name?” Calypso asked.

“Super-sized McShizzle,” the guy replied without missing a beat.

“Just when I thought that you might be an OK guy after all…” Calypso said but the tone of her voice told she wasn’t being serious.

“What’s life without some mystery, Sunshine?” He smiled at her and Calypso wondered briefly what the hell this conversation was about really.

“Yeah, what indeed?” she responded. Then she realized that the silly conversation had been going on long enough for a small queue form behind the guy. “Well, Johnny.” His mouth twitched when she said the new made up name. “Your hot chocolate will be waiting for you at the other counter in a minute. And I hope you won’t scare me so much this time that I’ll drop the drink.”

“Will try to not do that.”

The Super-sized McShizzle or Bad Boy Supreme moved to the other counter, and as Calypso was shaking the canned whipped cream, she was still playing the conversation in her head. For an outsider it probably seemed like they were being rude to each other. But Calypso thought she had learned to read this stranger a bit better already and guessed he actually enjoyed their bickering - and she had to admit that some part of her enjoyed them as well. Drawing a small heart after the made up name Johnny, she finally approached him at the counter and managed to deliver the hot chocolate without messing anything up. ‘Johnny’ took it gratefully but he gave her a funny look when he read his name on the cup.

“Aw, you even drew a heart there!” He noted. “I am starting to think you have started warming up to me.”

“No way. You? Why would I do that?” Calypso raised her eyebrow questioningly, but it probably wasn’t very effective thanks to her red cheeks.

“Because all the ladies love…” he checked his name from the cup again. “Johnny?”

“You should learn to know when to stop,” Calypso warned, rolling her eyes, but her mouth betrayed her.

“Oh c’mon, your mouth just twitched. I saw it,” the guy said. Then he took a swig from his cup and hummed approvingly. “Yup. This is the stuff. Not bad, Sunshine, I would definitely drink this again.”

“I’m glad you like it, especially since it’s supposed to be my apology to you.”

“In that case, apology accepted.” ‘Johnny’ wiped his mouth and checked the clock on the wall. “Well, I won’t bother you more this time because Jo is expecting me to be back at the garage any minute now. I was surprised she allowed me to come here in the first place but she seemed to think it’s good for me to meet new people. Apparently I spend too much time at work. But oh well, if I want to buy a car I need to save a lot of money…”

“That’s why you’re working overtime?” Calypso asked curiously.

“Yeah… I’ve been moving from place to place almost my whole life so at least owning a car would make it easier… Unless I find some reason to stay somewhere.” He shrugged, looking more serious than he had the whole time he’d been there. “I don’t know. But yeah, I should get going now. Maybe I’ll see around some time, though.” His smile returned. “This place is definitely better than I first thought.”

“Yeah, maybe I will see you around,” Calypso said, feeling a bit flustered again. It seemed that there was a lot more to this stranger’s story than she had first imagined. The small glimpses of the reality behind his jokes gave her a picture of a restless, unsure young man who was still looking for his place in the world. That piqued her interest and made her wish she really would see him again.

…

The mystery guy started visiting the coffee shop regularly during his breaks. After a couple of weeks Calypso already knew that his boss was called Jo and she was married to a woman called Emmie who handled the flower shop side of the business and they had an adoptive daughter Georgina. Even though the mystery guy hadn’t stayed in town for more than a couple of months so far, he seemed to have formed a strong bond with these people and especially adored the little Georgie whom he treated almost like a sister. Calypso also knew that the guy’s best friends were called Jason and Piper but unfortunately they were currently studying in another town so he couldn’t see them that often. He also had a pet lizard called Festus who apparently liked to nibble pretty much everyone except his fingers. Despite knowing all of that, there was still something Calypso didn’t know about him.

“Let’s play the game: guess my name,” the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ suggested one time when he was ordering a soda. “What do you think?”

Calypso thought about it for a moment. “Alright. Mike? Chris? Alex? Peter? Luke?”

“No, no, no, no and no,” he answered without hesitating, his mouth curled up with amusement.

“Ed? Sebastian? Jake? Thomas? Leon?” Calypso kept throwing in random names that came to her mind.

“Still no to all,” the mystery guy shook his head. “Although those were not half bad guesses. I wouldn’t mind being called Ed. A character in one of my favorite animes is called that and he’s quite a badass.”

“You watch anime?” Calypso asked curiously. “I wouldn’t have guessed that about you.”

“Well, I’m full of surprises.” He smirked before turning more serious. “Um, truth to be told, Georgina keeps ranting about her favorite animes when she’s hanging out at the garage with me and one time I just decided to binge watch some of them to be able to keep up with her. Turns out some of them are actually quite solid. Like this Fullmetal Alchemist. Ahem, but that probably isn’t interesting to you so I’ll stop now.”

“No, don’t worry about it!” Calypso reassured him. “I like hearing about your interests. I am not that familiar with anime but maybe some time you can recommend something to me to watch when I have more free time.”

“Yeah, maybe.” The guy smiled before turning a bit hesitant. “Um, I know you’re probably busy and stuff but I have a free chair at my table if you happen to be in need of a break. Just sayin’, but it’s OK if you can’t.”

Calypso was surprised that he asked so bluntly. The truth was that a bit before his appearance she had already considered taking a break so the timing was good enough and she decided to accept his offer. It was a quiet moment at the coffee shop so her coworkers were fine with it as well.

“You know now that I watch anime but what about your interests?” the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ asked once they had settled down at an empty table. “What do you do outside this coffee shop?”

“You really want to know?” Calypso questioned.

“Of course I do!” he said immediately. “I’ve revealed quite a bit about myself so it’s your turn now.”

Calypso felt a bit hesitant about talking about personal stuff, possibly afraid her mystery customer would judge her. “I, um… I have a mini garden on my balcony… I grow some edible plants there. I also enjoy reading because it's a good distraction from some unwanted thoughts.”

“I can relate to that,” the guy confessed but didn’t elaborate. Calypso wondered briefly what he may have wanted distraction from.

“Yeah…” she said instead of asking more because she doubted he would have liked that. “When I was a kid, I used to do a lot of music related things, like sing, play the piano and stuff like that but I stopped at some point because my father seemed to think it’s a waste of time. So, yeah. I was pretty upset about that. Who knows, maybe when I have more money I’ll be able to take more classes again… Lately I’ve been trying to express myself by painting, though, because watercolors are luckily cheap and I really needed something to do after…” She stopped when she realized she was about to reveal too much.

“After what?” the guy wanted to know.

“I don’t even know your name so I have no idea why I’m telling you this… but I guess it can’t hurt. I can trust you, right?”

“Of course!” her chat mate assured.

Calypso sighed before continuing. “I recently broke up with someone with whom I had been in quite a long relationship. Yeah, looking back to it, maybe it was for the best because clearly he wasn’t as invested as I was, but it still hurt to hear that he wanted to break up with me because there was someone else in his life. So, that’s why I’ve needed more distractions lately.” When she saw his serious expression, she rushed to add: “Don’t worry about me, though, I’m fine. I’ve already accepted that this is how it is. Trust me, it’s better that way. But it explains why I was so grumpy on that day we met.”

“Oh, OK. Sorry about that guy. I think he made a big ass mistake there but unfortunately some of us can be kinda blind… Hey, what are you staring at?” he asked when he noticed her watching him weirdly. In reality, Calypso had felt a small, unexpected tug at her heart because of his niceness but she tried to cover it by shaking her head.

“Nothing. Sorry. I was just thinking about something. But I should get back to work, the coffee isn’t going to serve itself.”

“I guess it isn’t. Well, talk to you later,” the guy said but from the corner of her eye Calypso could see that he was probably wondering what had just happened there.

Chapter 4

Time passed, but some things didn’t change:

“So… when will you finally reveal your name to me? We’ve known each other for several weeks now and you’re still being so mysterious,” Calypso noted one day when the ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ showed up at the coffee shop again. Like earlier, she had asked her coworkers if she could have her break so she could talk with him and they had accepted her request but given each other funny glances behind Calypso’s back, as if saying ‘we know what you are doing here’.

“I will do that when you finally call me Bad Boy Supreme instead of Johnny or Ben or David or whatever fake name you come up with each time.” He just smirked at her and Calypso 100% expected him to keep his word.

“No. That’s the one thing I cannot do, you weirdo,” she said stubbornly.

“Alright, then no can do,” he teased.

Calypso did continue asking him about other things, though, and got some answers.

“Why did you want to become a mechanic? Is it just because cars are cool or did you have some deeper reason for that?”

“Actually, my dream is to become a mechanical engineer so I get better tools to invent - and fix - all sorts of things, not just cars, but at the moment I don’t have enough money to go to college. So, I’m working to save up for that too, not just for the car. I know, sounds like a mission impossible. I will have to work about ten thousand years to save that much. I’ve just… always enjoyed building and fixing things, ever since I watched my mum do that when I was a kid… It’s in my blood.”

“Oh… then your mum must be proud that you want to follow her footsteps!” Calypso said gently, but the guy’s expression darkened.

“Yeah… maybe she would be… if she was still alive.”

“Oh no!” Calypso covered her mouth with her hands when she realized her mistake. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

“It’s OK,” he sighed. “I’m starting to get used to it.”

There was a moment of silence before Calypso asked: “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but… when did it happen?”

The guy looked at her darkly. “I was 8 then… So over 10 years ago. Not exactly breaking news anymore. Been going from home to home since then until I got old enough to live on my own; my dear dad didn’t care about me enough to keep me.”

“Wow… I’m sorry… You just give me such a happy and outgoing picture of yourself that I couldn’t imagine… ugh, just ignore me, please. I need to stop rambling now,” Calypso said with embarrassment, blushing slightly.

The guy surprised both Calypso and himself by what he did next: he reached for her hand to reassure her.

“Hey, relax. I only told that to you because you seem like someone I can trust. Not a lot of those people in my life. But yeah, there’s no need to be embarrassed; you couldn’t have known.”

“Oh… I guess I should be honored then. Since you were honest with me, I’m gonna be too: I didn’t exactly have the best of childhoods either. My parents fought a lot before breaking up and my dad… he could be scary when he wanted to. He had to get things done his way and if he didn’t like something… he’d let us know, loudly. I guess some of my temper issues may stem from there.”

“Still thinking about that time when you yelled at me?” the guy asked. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not afraid of you.”

“That’s good to hear,” Calypso laughed nervously, tugging a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Anyway, when my parents got divorced, my father insisted I live with him instead of mum and that did not end up going well. His idea of good parenting was buying me expensive things I didn’t care about, while I could tell that in reality he couldn’t care less if I was there or not. He just wanted to humiliate my mother. I ended up moving out as early as possible, but that’s a whole other story…”

“And that’s why you’re working here now?” The Bad Boy Supreme wanted to know. “Because you desperately needed money? I mean, no offense, but I get a vibe from you that you don’t actually enjoy working here.”

Calypso glanced at her surroundings, making sure none of her coworkers and especially not the manager could hear her answer. Then she sighed. “Yeah. You’re not wrong. I did have some dreams when I was younger but… it’s like you said, it would take me about ten thousand years to be able to afford studying. The rent here isn’t free and I don’t even want to think about the college tuitions. Obviously my dad could afford them easily but I’m not going to stoop so low that I would ask him. I am not going to owe anyone, especially not him.”

The ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ gave her an approving half smile. “I see we have something in common, after all. We both have dreams that seem to be hard to achieve. And I definitely wouldn’t want to owe to my no good old man either. And families… Those can be bitches. But not something bad if not something good; thanks to my round around the country I feel like I may have finally found a place where I could maybe picture myself staying more than just a few months. The coffee here isn’t half bad and the people are decent too.” He winked at her, and she knew his words were actually quite a big compliment from him. Despite that, she pretended to be annoyed by his comment, putting her hands on her waist.

“Not half bad? I don’t even remember you ordering coffee since that little incident – and you didn’t get your coffee back then - so how can you have an opinion on it?”

“That’s the thing, I didn’t get my coffee so that’s why it’s only ‘not half bad’ and not the ‘best coffee I’ve ever had’” he smiled at her smugly. “However, the hot chocolate was definitely worth getting yelled at.”

Calypso hated how contagious his smile was but she couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’m glad to hear that.”

They were silent for a moment before the guy started: “Hey, listen… would you like to…”

His question was interrupted, though, because a customer nearby started causing ruckus, claiming the tea water was too cold (even though Calypso knew her coworkers always made sure it was hot enough) and the piece of cake was dry (even though someone had cut fresh pieces like half an hour ago) and she wanted her money back. Reyna was serving her and trying to politely say that she was sorry the customer felt that way and that they’d make sure to do better the next time, but the customer wouldn’t listen. Calypso could tell Reyna’s patience was running thin so she decided to finish her break then and there and go to help, but she had only managed to stand up from her chair when she noticed that she wasn’t the only one wanting to defend the honor of their coffee shop.

“Hey, you,” ‘Bad Boy Supreme’ said loudly, addressing the woman who had complained. “Don’t like, don’t buy. It’s as simple as that. There are other places where you can get your low fat cake with extra cream on the top that will surely match your interests better.”

The woman just glared at him, going slightly red from her face, before dramatically turning away and leaving the coffee house. Calypso sighed of relief, thankful that nothing worse happened.

“That wasn’t really necessary, you know,” she tried to scold her companion but the attempt was half hearted. “I’m sure Reyna would have been able to handle it.”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t have a doubt about that,” he said. “But sometimes it’s fun to let those privileged douches hear it. You guys are just too polite. Well, most of the time. I guess some customers do have a way to crawl under your skin but that requires special talent.” He grinned at her in a way that may have tried to be flirty but failing.

“Oh, yeah, a special talent indeed,” Calypso confirmed, throwing her long braid over her shoulder. “I’m the epitome of patience, as we know. Well, I should get back to work now; my coworkers are probably waiting for me already.” She looked at Reyna apologetically but she didn’t seem to mind one bit. “It was nice talking to you, though, Raymond.”

“That’s the best you can come up with? C’mon, you can do better than that,” ‘Raymond’ protested but waved her a goodbye with a big smile on his face. Calypso gave him a shy smile back.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics

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reachthezeneth · 4 years ago

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Sorry for being greedy and annoying, for the ship ask: all of them 👀 with mando 💞

Who is more affectionate in public? in private?

In public, it's Max. He likes to play it up because Lando blushes and pretends like he thinks it's ridiculous how clingy Max is. It's a little game they like to play that ends with Max kissing him in public and Lando grinning. In private? Lando still acts exasperated but ends up mostly on Max's lap, playing video games. He's fooling no one

Who is the bigger romantic openly? Secretly?

Max would make cute posts with supportive and maybe even romantic captions. Lando would probably eventually post their engagement picture with an idiotic caption like "gg". Secretly? Max is still the most romantic but Lando might have his moments of actually saying something cute.

Who is most likely to plan something big for Valentine's day?

It goes against everything you'd think but Lando. Max is "just another day" kind of guy but Lando goes all out. Mind you, the first Valentine's was Call of Duty and pizza but he also gave Max a massage so he's trying ok? And if that massage leads to something else...? Well of course it did 😏

Who is more likely to initiate hand-holding in public?

Max, as part of his plan to embarrass Lando. Lando loves it though, but pretends he doesn't just to be a pain. Max knows.

Who is more likely to make huge declarations of love in front of other people?

So, Lando just doesn't have a filter. Like yes, Max plays it up in front of their family and friends but he's also professional. Lando on the other hand, accidentally tells interviewers things like, "it was a horrible race for us but at least my boyfriend won, so that's gotta count for something, right?!" That's how they announce their relationship. So of course the first time he says "I love you" is when he's streaming. Max comes in and messes with his headphones and makes silly noises in his mike and Lando laughs, kicking him out. When he comes back with Lando's dinner as an apology, Lando grins and says, "this is why you're my favorite person! I love you!" It's not huge declarations exactly, but they're huge when Max has to meet with his PR manager every so often because Lando spills more and more about their relationship.

Who developed a crush on the other first?

Mmm on paper? Lando. He can give you the month and the year. Really? Max. He just didn't notice it as a crush. He thought everyone wanted to kiss their best friend.

Who spends more time (possibly overthinking) what presents to get the other?

God I wish it was Lando but we know his braincells ™. Max does. He's just not used to being thoughtful and careful with someone. When he buys Lando's engagement ring it's months of looking through options, talking with Victoria, his mom, and the ring shop owners. By the time he does get the ring, he's on a first name basis with the store owners. So yes, even Christmas presents he thinks about it thoroughly but it's worth it.

Who initiates most physical contact?

Lando! But that's mostly because he let's himself fall on Max on the couch, or weasels his way into Max's personal space anywhere. Physical contact in public? Max. Sex? Lando knows exactly what buttons to push.

Who is most likely to send cutsey texts to each other?

I mean by who's standards? Lando 100% sends them but you wouldn't think they were cute flirty ones. Max sends actual cute ones like "I miss you, hot stuff" which Lando finds ridiculous but he smiles every time.

Who spends their time reading the zodiac compatibilities?

Lando asks Alex and Lily. He texts Max afterwards like, "Alex says this will be a rough week for us :( something about your moon" to which Max replies, "it's gonna be a rough week because you didn't do the fucking dishes like you were supposed to". Lando's reply? ":( This is just your moon talking"

Who is more protective?

Physically? Max. He keeps Lando close when they go anywhere to make sure no one's giving him any shit. Verbally? Lando. When interviewers or commentators talk bad about Max, he's ready to defend his boyfriend.

Who tends to get sick more often? Who is better at taking care of the other?

Realistically? They have people for that. But still when Lando is sick, Max brings him his favorite snacks, drinks, his medicine and tissues. When Max is sick, Lando sits by his bed and talks to him about everything. They take care of each other just fine all the time though. Even if they almost burned down the house once. Other than that? Perfect.

Who said "I love you" first?

Since I already accidentally answered this, I can also add Max probably did say it first, but whispered in the night time, when Lando was asleep, so technically it doesn't count.

Who believes in soulmates?

Lando does. He's felt the pull to Max since the beginning. Max doesn't believe in it but he does believe in his love for Lando and Lando's love for him and that's all he needs.

#mar tag #m #lando norris #max verstappen #norstappen #mando #answered ask #THIS WAS V CUTE #THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS ASK #💕💕💕💕#i already want to write more #i appreciate you giving me inspiration #ALSO YOU'RE NEVER ANNOYING

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missaudreyhorney · 4 years ago

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Little Magnum

Anon requested the idea of adopting a puppy with Jim Hopper and who am I to say no to something so fluffy and adorable? Major help was provided by chiefharbour here on Tumblr, plus harboursouce and hideloveaway on Instagram.

1.9k words of self-indulgent silliness and mentions of other ST characters.

Your friend’s dog escaped from her yard about 5 months ago and had herself a wild night on the town, getting pregnant with a litter of mixed-breed puppies. Most of them had been given out to different families but there was one pup left, a little boy with white patches on his honey-colored fur. El had subtly mentioned to you that she’d never had a pet before and you wanted so badly to get her one, as it would make her time alone at the cabin a lot less boring and isolating. There was just one last obstacle and his name was Jim Hopper.

Since he speaks very little about his childhood, you had no idea if Hopper ever had a dog before, or even any type of pet at all. Based upon the little he has told you, it was easy to assume that if he ever had a dog, it was strictly for hunting and probably slept outside or in a shed. That’s not the way you grew up though. You’ve always had pets and they’ve always been like family to you. You knew it was going to be hard to sell him on the idea of getting a puppy, but that’s why you had your strategy well planned out. All you had to do was tell Hop that the two of you were going to visit a friend of yours and once he saw the dog himself, he wouldn’t need much convincing.

On a Friday after work, he picked you up and drove you over to Jill’s house. As Hopper entered her living room, his eyes immediately went to the dog. He walked over to it and crouched down onto one knee. “What’s up, little guy?” he said, letting it smell his hand before he pet it. The puppy lavished the back of his hand with endless licks, causing Hopper to chuckle. This was easily the happiest you’d seen him in weeks, if not months. Within the first thirty seconds of him interacting with the dog, you could already sense a connection being made. He talked to it in a tone of voice that you’d never heard before. “You got sharp little teeth, don’t ya, boy?” The puppy rolled onto it’s back and Hopper rubbed its belly. “Yes, you do! Yes, you do.” You clamped your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from giggling. This was the first time you’d ever seen him act this way.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” you asked. “Yeah, he’s adorable. How old is he?” “Nine weeks,” Jill answered. “You’re just a baby, huh?” Hopper cooed at the dog while you and Jill exchanged a knowing look. “The vet said that’s a perfect age for them to find a new home.” He didn’t react, he just kept playing with the puppy. “You hear that, Hop?” “Yeah...” he answered slowly.

All the humor and happiness drained from his face as he connected the dots. “No,” he replied simply. “What do you mean? ‘No’ what?” you feigned ignorance. “Absolutely not,” he continued with a stern expression. You glanced over at Jill on the couch as she drank her Tab and minded her own business.

“Can you excuse us?’ Hopper asked in his most charming voice. “We’re just gonna go outside for a minute.” Jill nodded, “Sure thing, hon.” The two of you left and stood on her porch. Smiling up at him expectantly, you took one of his hands in yours. “We’re not getting a dog,” he told you flatly, “especially not a puppy.” Your shoulders drooped with disappointment. “Why not?” you whined. “Because I said so,” he stated calmly. “That’s not fair,” you whined again.

“I don’t care if it’s fair. I work long hours, and when I get home, I need to be able to relax. I don’t have time to be chasing after a little dog, making sure it’s not chewing everything up.”

“Come on, Hop,” you pleaded, “I promise I’ll take care of it. You’ll still be able to relax.” You held both of his hands in yours. “Dogs are a man’s best friend, remember? You can do some male bonding together. He’ll be like the son you never had.” Hopper rolled his eyes at you dramatically, knowing you were laying it on extra thick to persuade him.

“What about El? I’ve never seen her interact with a dog, what if she’s scared of them?” “She’s fine with it,” you said matter of factly. “What do you mean ‘she’s fine with it’? How do you know?” his voice went up with a tinge of anger. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her we’re getting a dog. She just dropped a few hints to me before about not having a pet, so when Trixie got pregnant, I asked El what she thought about dogs and she told me she got along great with Will’s before it ran away.” You regretted saying those words as soon as they escaped your mouth. He wasn’t supposed to know that this was a setup.

Hopper took a step forward, his body closer to yours, his beautiful blue eyes glared down at you. “You little brat,” he scolded playfully, “you planned this all behind my back, didn’t you?” You pressed your top and bottom lips together tightly to suppress a smile. “You probably already have a name picked too.” You burst into a fit of giggles. “Magnum,” you declared. “Magnum,” he repeated with a chuckle and scrubbed his large hand over his face.

Determined and unfazed, you continued your pitch. “I wish you could have seen yourself in there. The way your face lit up. Can you imagine the look on El’s face if we bring home this puppy? Can you imagine how happy and surprised she’ll be?”

He gave a heavy sigh as a slow smile spread across his rugged features. “Alright,” Hopper said decisively. ”Let’s go back inside and get Magnum P-U-P.” You ignored his terrible dad joke like you often do. “Really? Are you sure?” you inquired as he opened the screen door. “I think my mind’s already been made up for me,” he replied. “You’re right. It has,” you stood on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek before you entered the house again.

As soon as the door opened, the dog ran to him and he scooped it up into his arms. “Guess what, little guy? You’re coming home with us.” The puppy licked Hopper’s face, almost appreciatively as if it understood what was going on. You couldn’t have been any happier if you tried. As the vigorous licking continued, he scrunched up his face. “Okay, that’s enough,” Hopper laughed then handed you the dog.

“I’m so glad you’re taking the little terror off my hands,” Jill joked as she gave half a bag of puppy food to Hop. He shot you a regretful look that you pretended to ignore. “We’re glad too, aren’t we?” you suggested and he rolled his eyes at you. “Yes,” he answered, his look of annoyance fading into a genuine smile. The three of you left in the Blazer and drove straight to the feed store to get a collar, leash, and new bag of puppy food.

In the month that has passed since then, things have been somewhat chaotic, with Magnum living up to his reputation as a terror. Every other word out of Hopper’s mouth seems to be “Magnum!” as he is constantly reprimanding the dog for something or other. Usually for tinkling in the house, as all puppies his age do. You’ve basically having to train them both; the dog to go outside, and Hop to take him out on the leash instead of letting him just roam around the woods by himself.

The puppy barks his tiny head off whenever Mike comes over, growling and even biting the boy if he tries to pet him. It’s the only bad behavior that Hopper actively encourages from the dog. Other than the unexplained animosity towards her boyfriend, El and Magnum get along swimmingly, with him being at his most calm when he’s around her, frequently sitting on her lap as they watch tv together. It’s probably because of the bacon you’ve caught her slipping to him during breakfast.

One of Magnum’s worst habits is that he’s a sock thief. Not just any socks though, they have to be Hopper’s. He ignores any that belong to you or El, as if he’s a sock connoisseur and those just aren’t up to snuff. You’ve found them hidden all over the cabin, though they’re most often under the bed or in between the couch cushions. While he is content with stealing them off the floor, his favorite method of theft is to take them directly off of Hopper’s feet. He bites the end and shakes his little head back and forth until they’re wiggled and yanked all the way off. Sometimes Hop gets mad, especially when the puppy accidentally nips his toes, but a lot of the time he allows it to happen because it’s just so stinking cute to watch.

For as much as Hopper complains about the dog, you know it’s just a facade. You keep finding empty bags of treats on the counter. On multiple occasions, you have arrived home to see that he’s been given a new chew toy. You’ve come across Polaroids not only of Magnum by himself, usually in those seemingly rare moments of slumber, but also of Hopper holding the puppy on his shoulder. The last time you were at the station, you caught him showing some of them to Flo as if they were baby pictures. The thing that truly cemented his love for the dog was the sight you discovered tonight.

You having to work on the weekend and El spending all day at the Wheeler’s house left Hop and Magnum alone by themselves. When your shift is over, you almost dread going back to the cabin, having no idea what type of disaster you’re going to be coming home to. As you unlock the front door, it’s eerily quiet inside, so quiet that it causes you to become concerned. There doesn’t appear to be any disaster at all when you walk in, which would be a relief if it wasn’t so far out of the ordinary.

“Hop?” you call out as you put your things down by the door. “Hopper?” you repeat a moment later and a bit louder when there’s no answer. A feeling of worry growing in your belly, you creep over to the bedroom and slowly move the curtain. Stealthily peeking your head inside, your mouth instantly curls into a smile. Sprawled on the bed is all six feet and three inches of Chief Jim Hopper snuggling with tiny little Magnum as they’re both fast asleep.

The sight not only puts your mind at ease but warms your heart. Up until now, Hopper hasn’t allowed Magnum to sleep on the bed, instead having him sleep on an area rug with a baby blanket on the floor. You almost want to take a picture, if not for your own sake, for the sake of hearing what Powell and Callahan would say. You refrain, however, knowing that the flash would likely disturb their rest. Instead, you slip into your pajamas and curl up in bed with your two favorite guys, feeling so grateful for the little family you have created.

#Jim Hopper drabble #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #Hopper x Reader #Hopper x You #jim hopper fluff #PURE FLUFF #soft Jim Hopper #jim hopper fanfiction #gender neutral reader #I did it #Little Magnum

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sparklingchan · 4 years ago

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Stray Kids AU

Stray Kids soulmate AU

Prompt : The name of your soulmate appears on your body only after that person falls in love with you.

A/N: this was sooooo fun to write but it turned out rather long but please the whole thing,I swear it'll be worth every minute🥺

Warnings : None.

1. Bang Chan

You met him for the first time when you went to the movies one evening,alone ,trying to take your mind off the upcoming exams.

He was seated to your left,his mind completely focused on the movie . He wore a black tshirt with a black jacket and a pair of baggy pants but you couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked even in the dark.

You also subtly noticed the bandaids around his fingers and the reddened knuckles and the tired and exhausted look on his face ,which you were very familiar with because it is the same expression you see when you look into the mirror.

"Are you like a boxer or something?" You weren't the kind to go around talking to random strangers at movies but this time your curiosity got the better of you.

He looked at you ,confused ,but answered anyway. "No. I'm a musician "

"Then what's with the bruised hands?"

He looks down at his hands and laughs,shaking his head. "Let's just say I overwork myself a little too much sometimes". Fair enough.

"I'm y/n by the way " you offer your hand and he takes it,smiling from ear to ear. "I'm Chan"

You notice his lack of snacks and a cold drink and you couldn't help but offer your extra large bucket of popcorn ,which previously you were sure you could finish on your own but now, not so anymore.

He thanks you,dipping his hands in and grabbing a fistful of popcorn,a small but very noticeable blush tinting his cheeks.

That night,he offers to walk you home and you couldn't say no. You stood at your doorstep,smiling to yourself as he turns around and walks back home.

The moment he is out of your sight,you feel a sudden pain in your left forearm.

Rolling your sleeves up till your elbow,you are stunned to see "Bang Chan" cleanly written there.

2. Lee Minho

You hated Lee Minho from the bottom of your heart. He went to the same dance studio as you and ever since you guys had a minor argument about something regarding a particular step,he's felt like nothing but a nuisance.

He knew that you disliked him so he made sure to bother you even more. Sometimes he'd make fun of your frizzy hair and sometimes he'd simply grab your phone out of nowhere and run. He even ate your food without any permission.

But one day ,your dance teacher paired you two up together for a couple contemporary dance competition.

You were so close to strangling Minho everytime he looked at you with that smirk on his face as you guys practiced day and night. But you also couldn't help but acknowledge how perfect his every movement was.

It was the day before your competition when Minho fell in the bathroom and fractured his leg,forcing your duo to back out from the competition.

You honestly weren't a bit angry or sad about it since it was a small internal competition but you knew he was upset with himself so you went to visit him at his dorm.

"I'm sorry, y/n " he had said. That's the saddest you've ever seen him look and to be very honest, you hated it.

"Shut up ,idiot. It's not a big deal " you gave him the donuts you bought earlier as he looks up at you ,smiling brightly.

When you were about to leave, he asked you if you could drop by often. His eyes looked at everywhere but you.

"Why?" You giggled. He looked down shyly. "I realized you're not that bad to hang out with "

You laughed, pressing a small kiss on his cheek. "I'll come by often"

When you reached home,you felt a strong sting at your forearm.

And on observing closely at the burning area,you see "Lee Minho" written in big,bold letters.

3. Seo Changbin

You hated your job ,you really did but everything changed when your new colleague, Changbin, arrived. He was the funniest,nicest and most talented mam you'd ever met.

A few weeks into the friendship,he had already made you listen to the songs he composed. His smile when you complimented him was something to die for.

And Whenever you felt down ,he would make some silly jokes and he'd instantly brighten up your mood.

And you didn't want to deny it,you had developed a crush on him.

It was a rainy afternoon in your office when you saw Changbin walk inside your executive director's cabin. You knew that it could never mean something good.

When he came out of the office,almost half an hour later,his eyes looking down at the floor and his ears red ,you knew he had gotten a nice scolding from your shitty boss.

You knew because a few months ago you'd been in the the same position too.

But instead of coming back to his seat,you saw him walk out of the office. Mindlessly,you followed him into the terrace .

"He's a stupid asshole,don't fret yourself about it" you wrapped your arm around his. He sighed, ruffling his hair with the other hand.

"I'm going to punch that man one day " he gritted his teeth. You were so used to him being a smily ,funny man ,you were scared when you saw him this angry.

"He's not worth your attention,I'm telling you " . He only replied by shrugging.

You two decided to have dinner together that night.

"I hope there's a next time to this" he had said,shyly, His smile doing wonders to your heart. As his car disappeared around the corner,you felt your heart swell with a warm feeling.

The next morning,you woke up with a stinging pain in your forearm and when you checked it out,your heart skipped a beat on seeing 'Seo Changbin ' written there.

4. Hwang Hyunjin

You'd never seen a man as beautiful and amazing as Hyunjin. Although he probably never noticed you,you noticed him. All the girls in your college did and you were no exception to that.

You were more than excited when your teacher told you that you two were supposed to do a project together.

Initially, you were expecting him to be a brat ,given his popularity among women ( and men OFC) but he turned out to be a warm person,making you feel guilty for thinking that way about him in the first place.

He helped you all he could ,and you also realised at that time that he was not just a handsome face ,he was pretty smart too.

After working hours on the project at your house,you two would sometimes just spend time talking to each other. It wasn't even forced; you guys just clicked naturally.

On the day the project finished, you decided to bake cookies for him and even packed some for him to take home. "This is a thank you gift"

His whole face lit up as he took the jar of cookies from you. "I should be the one thanking you "

Before he left,he gives you tight hug and then a kiss on your forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow "

While you prepared dinner that evening,you felt a weird sting on your forearm,as if a bug bit you. Putting down the spoon,you checked out your forearm for any signs of a bug bite.

Your cheeks turned red when you saw that it wasn't a bug bite. "Hwang Hyunjin " was printed onto your skin in a clean and neat handwriting.

5. Han Jisung

You were the new producer intern at JYP entertainment and although unfamiliar to most people,you felt quite comfortable at home. You first met Han Jisung when he popped his head through your studio door,mistaking your studio for some else's.

His cheeks turned red with embarrassment, as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I thought this room was Mike's."

You smiled shyly. "Its alright. Don't apologize please." He then slowly stepped into the studio,his hands behind his back.

"Are you new here ? Haven't seen you before " You nodded in response . He thrusted his hand towards you,his lips curving up into a smile.

"I'm Jisung. I am a trainee here" he said. "Nice to meet you ,Jisung. I'm y/n,a new intern producer"

You then proceeded to tell him that you have in fact heard about him and his team ,3racha,from other producers. He giggled,clearly embarrassed. "Yeah. I do compose a little, here and there "

Needless to say,over time you guys had developed an unbreakable bond not only through music but also the similar way that you two click with each other. It's as if you both had found a safe haven in each other.

A few months later,he told you that he wanted to show you a song he was working on. And excited, you quickly agreed to it.

For someone who was only a few months older than you,his music style was way more mature than yours. The way every beat,every chord ,every lyric sticks out beautifully, you couldn't help but clap as the song ended.

"That was amazing,Jisung. You're gonna put all us producers out of work!" You had teased.

He gave you his signature smile and shook his head . "You guys are going to be big one day, I can feel it " you told him.

He stopped for a second and stared at you ,his fingers fumbling with his laptop. "But you'll still be here right? Even if we do get big one day,you'll still be there with me right?"

You smiled ,as he took your hand in his. "Yes. I'll be there "

As soon as Jisung left the studio after a few minutes,you suddenly felt as if your arm was on fire. Alarmed ,you decided to check the area .

"Han Jisung" was written on your forearm.

6. Felix Lee

You loved swimming more than anything in the world and you were so good at it,people at your school saw you as their swimming champion.

But it all changed when Lee Felix joined your school. He was an amazing swimmer and as much as it hurt your ego to admit it,Felix was better than you .

You couldn't help but feel jealous and even though he was in the same swimming team as you ,you never bothered to acknowledge him. He did try to befriend you but your ego was too big to pay heed to him.

On his birthday, when he invited you to his house for a party,you couldn't say no to those pleading eyes. You told yourself you went out of pity but that's not entirely true.

The party wasn't half as bad as you had thought and by the time the party died down,you also realized you were being too harsh on Felix. His sunshine like smile and cheerful personality worked magic on you.

He offered to walk you home since you insisted on walking back home alone . You agreed because your houses weren't very far apart.

"Do you hate me or something?" He caught you off guard as you find the right words to answer him.

You shook your head ." I don't hate you,Felix. I guess...I was just envious"

He chuckled. " you shouldn't be" and you nodded. He was right, you shouldn't be jealous and right now,in this moment you realise how ridiculous those feelings were.

You stopped at your gate and looked up at him,smiling ,and then gave him a quick hug

But before he could say anything you ran into your house.

The moment you close the door behind you,your forearm starts hurting really bad. And when you check it out to see what's causing it ,you see the name 'Lee Felix ' written on your skin.

7. Kim Seungmin

Kim Seungmin was that one cute boy from your school who dropped by at the library you work at every day.

He always greeted you with the brightest smile on earth and often chatted with you before he left the library. You had gotten used to his positive energy.

But one evening he came in,his eyes tired and mouth pressed in a small smile. He didn't even greet you ,which broke your heart a little.

He sat on the farthest corner of the library, a book open in front of him but his eyes and mind were elsewhere . You approached him.

"What's wrong?" He looked at you with tear filled eyes. "I didn't do well in my maths paper "

You softly patted his back. " hey,it's okay . Everyone knows you're good at maths and plus it was just an internal assessment. It won't hamper your finals "

"But that's the thing,y/n. I'm not good at maths. I am fairly good at the other subjects but I suck at maths,big time "

You looked at his sorry face and realised how much his grades mattered to him unlike you who didn't give too much thought to it . "I'm good at maths. If you want ,I could tutor you "

His face broke into a smile as he placed his hand on yours.

"You would?" You nodded as his smile turned even bigger.

You walked back to the reception after Seungmin calmed down,having discussed the timings for his math tutions and making him promise you free ice cream for the rest of your life in return for your favour.

You suddenly felt a sting on your forearm and on inspecting your forearm ,you saw the name 'Kim Seungmin' written in big letters as your stomach did a backflip in anticipation of what is to come.

8. Yang Jeongin

Jeongin and you had been best friends since childhood. Your parents were friends too so naturally you grew up to be closer than anyone.

But as you both entered teenage, you started seeing him as more than just a friend . So you distanced yourself from him. Over time ,he stopped trying to earn you back and you two grew apart.

It was the last year of high school and everyone was busy preparing for the Winter Ball. You weren't going(obviously),not just because you had no date but also because you didn't want to see Jeongin with someone else.

The morning of the ball arrived and your friends had given up on trying to convince you to go with them.

You were sitting on your sofa while eating breakfast when the doorbell rang.

"I heard that you weren't coming to the ball,y/n " Jeongin looked at you with sad eyes.

You looked at your feet,embarrassed . "Yes."

He sighed,walking into your house. "Why, y/n?"

You told him that you didn't have a date but he refused to believe that to be the only reason. He grabbed your shoulders,looking into your eyes. You heart was beating so fast you were sure you might pass out any minute.

"You like me,don't you? Isn't that the reason why you stopped hanging out with me? Please tell me its true" Your forearm started hurting badly at that moment but you ignored it,there were more important things to do than worry about a sore arm .

"Yes " you didn't want to lie to him anymore . You were tired of being afraid and playing safe all the time . For once,maybe bravery might be a better option.

He smiled from ear to ear ,wrapping you in his arms and snuggling his face in the crook of your neck. "I do too ,you dumbo. "

While your heart leaped with happiness ,the pain in your arm increased so you quickly checked the area whilst still in his embrace.

'Yang Jeongin ' was written on your skin and you knew what it meant. You knew that he was the one for you.

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itsjackgilbert · 4 years ago

Text

Situation Comedy

INSCRUTABLE MUSIC-VIDEO GENIUS MAKES MOVIE. IT'S VERY GOOD. INSCRUTABLE FILMMAKER DOES MAGAZINE INTERVIEW. IT'S VERY BIZARRE. A VERY SMALL GLIMPSE INTO THE INSULAR WORLD OF SPIKE JONZE, WHERE MAKING AWESOMELY STRANGE FILMS, WEARING FAKE PENISES, AND GETTING BEAT UP (SORT OF) ALL ARE PART OF THE SCENERY

BY ZEV BOROW

"He came to visit me once and when he first arrived I got a phone call that I had to come pick him up because his car had been impounded because he'd been chased by, like, ten cops on bikes after he drove his car onto these little fairgrounds and did a bunch of doughnuts. So, then I had to drive him around all weekend." — Three Kings director David O. Russell

"Actors are more consistent. They tend to land their tricks." — filmmaker Spike Jonze, on who is easier to direct, actors or skaters.

"He wanted his brother to be in Three Kings, so he shot an audition tape with his brother doing the Sharon Stone role in Basic Instinct, crossing and uncrossing his legs. It was the weirdest fucking thing I've ever seen." — David O. Russell

I meet Spike Jonze at the production offices of his new movie, Being John Malkovich, which is a bizarre comedy about a love triangle between three people who find a secret portal into John Malkovich's head behind a file cabinet in an office building where the ceilings are four feet high. John Cusack and Cameron Diaz and Catherine Keener are in it. So is John Malkovich. It's really good and weird and funny, though not always in that order. Spike Jonze directed it.

Jonze is 29 years old and sort of famous for directing some of the best music videos ever made: the Beastie Boys' "Sabotage"; Fatboy Slim's "Praise You"; Weezer's "Buddy Holly"; Björk's "It's Oh So Quiet"; and other really good ones, too. He's also made some excellent commercials and two interesting short films. However, mostly because of the exceedingly cool videos he's done for, mostly, exceedingly cool people, Jonze has also become famous for being exceedingly cool. A wide and deep selection of the hippest people alive dig Jonze. They are his friends. This past July Jonze married actress, filmmaker, and fellow sort-of-famous person Sofia Coppola. Tom Waits sang at their wedding. Tom fucking Waits.

Jonze is small and wiry, with the body and demeanor of a skateboarder, which he is. He is relaxed, unfailingly polite, and has a voice suggesting a 15-year-old boy. When we meet he is wearing a T-shirt and scuffed-up $350 Marc Jacobs shoes. He tells me he's supposed to meet with Knox, an as-yet-unknown guitar player, to discuss ideas for his video and invites me along. But first we go to buy a big bag of cat food for his cat.

Jonze says Knox plays "sort of country-funkabilly-Prince-like music...really beautiful stuff." A friend gave him a tape, he says, and he fell in love with it. We get lost trying to find Knox's house.

When we finally arrive, Knox says he was asleep because Jonze was supposed to arrive hours ago. Jonze says he's sorry, that it must have been his assistant's fault. Knox is tall, with short, dark hair styled vaguely pompadour-ish. His apartment is small. Neil Young in on the CD player. An acoustic guitar rests in the corner.

"I'm the only one in the band, so I do the whole gig," Knox says. "My old man was a guitarist and my mother was, like...well, she was a capable pianist, not great. I'm from Tenness–Knoxville–that's why I go by Knox. My mother ahd a baby two years before me, a little boy, and it died at birth, and I am, like, the copy of that kid. And my little brother almost died at birth 'cause of me, so it's kind of all cyclical. But I'm still tweaking it. So, uh, what kind of ideas do you have?"

Jonze talks about making a video that's not very commercial, about something that's cool in and of itself.

Knox: "I just don't want it to be cute. Don't take this as an affront, but some of your videos are...cute. The 'Buddy Holly' thing was little fucking cute. I was thinking more of an early John Cugar-type of thing. Like 'Jack and Diane.' Maybe with some of the words on the bottom of the screen."

Jonze: "Uh, cool.... But it’s also cool to do something maybe not as literal.” He asks Knox if he wants to be in the video. Knox says maybe just his face, as a child.

Jonze says he could come over with a video camera and they could try some stuff out.

Knox: “Like what?”

Jonze: “Well, I don’t want to just throw stuff out.”

Knox: “Well, I’m not going to steal your stuff.”

Jonze laughs, sort of. There is an awkward silence.

Jonze: “How about a video with Xeroxes, just as a cool medium?”

Knox: “Yeah, well, that sounds schticky. Xeroxes are schticky.”

Jonze tries to say something about form. Knox says he likes “the Jazzercize” video Jonze did.

Jonze: “‘Praise you.’ Cool.”

Knox turns toward me and says he doesn’t think Spike looks very into it. Jonze says he doesn’t want to do anything he’s done already. He asks Knox if he saw the video he did for Sean Lennon.

Knox: “Nah. That guy’s too fuckin’ avant garde for me.”

Jonze: “No, I’m not saying that. It’s just I don’t want to make something silly out of your song, but at the same time....” He trails off.

There’s a tense silence, then Knox turns to me and asks if I have any ideas for videos. I tell him I don’t. Knox says “fuck,” loudly.

Jonze: “Look, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, and if you don’t really like my stuff maybe we shouldn’t work together. I like working with people who are....”

Knox: “Yeah, well...fuck.... Well, if you come up with some ideas, any ideas, call, but I just...shit.”

Jonze: “I should go.”

Jonze gets up. Knox begins to pace. Then he screams, “Fuck!” and throws a small wooden chair Jonze had been sitting on against the wall. It shatters.

Jonze: “Dude, chill.”

Knox: “I think you better leave!”

Jonze: “I was just....”

Knox: “Just fucking leave!”

Then Knox pushes Jonze into a wall, hard. I think to myself: Spike Jonze is about to get his ass kicked. Then, like a panther (or jaguar), Jonze jumps at Knox. They hit the floor. Jonze is on top of Knox, throwing punches at his head. After about 15 seconds, I pull them apart. Knox gets up and screams, “Wait right fucking there!” and runs into a back room. Jonze looks at me and says, “Let’s get the fuck out of here!” and runs out the door, fast.

Knox jumps out from the back room, glowering and holding a baseball bat.

DRIVING AWAY, JONZE MUSES ABOUT HOW “HECTIC” things got with Knox. He repeatedly pushes his face toward the rearview mirror and asks if I think his eye looks swollen. It doesn’t. He says nothing like that has ever happened to him before, except once “with Everlast, but it never got physical.” We pull into a 7-Eleven and he gets a juice and some Advil.

I try to ask some more questions about the movie. “I’m apprehensive about talking about it at all,” he says, “because I feel like it’s going to cloud someone’s opinion. You think about all the movies you had preconceived notions about, about all the ones you read stuff about until you were sick of them before you even saw them.

SPIKE JONZE’S REAL NAME IS ADAM SPIEGEL. He isn’t interested in talking about why, or when, he started going by Spike Jonze, or how much it has to do with Spike Jones, the 1940s band leader, but it’s probably related to the fact he grew up hanging out with a lot of competitive BMX bikers similarly fond of pseudonyms and alter egos. He was raised in Bethesda, Maryland, a well-heeled suburb of Washington, D.C., where his mother enjoyed photography and his father enjoyed being the scion of an extremely successful family-owned catalog company. Jonze is the middle child (younger brother; older sister) and was into skateboarding, photography, lots of Dischord-era punk rock, and, most of all, BMX.

In the mid-’80s, BMXing’s popularity was exploding, and Jonze was spending much of his time at Rockville BMX, a legendary retail and mail-order BMX shop in nearby Rockville, Maryland. At age 15, he accompanied the Haro pro-BMX team on a summer tour of the U.S., serving as part-time roadie, contest announcer, T-shirt salesperson, and using an old 35-millimeter camera, team photographer. By the time he was 16, he was writing and taking pictures for skate and bike magazines. At 17, immediately after finishing high school, he moved to Torrance, California, to work at Freestylin’, the sport’s preeminent glossy. There, he met Mark Lewman and Andy Jenkins, two kindred spirits.

“We were all living together in this apartment across the street from the magazine’s offices, in the Valley, which was like the epicenter of the skateboarding and BMX world,” says Lewman, who was 18 at the time and is now a creative director at Lambesis, a San Diego–based advertising agency that deciphers youth culture. “We’d skate to work, ride ramps, listen to Black Flag and Eric B. and Rakim, and get into adventures drinking Night Train, being weird, and stomping around downtown L.A.”

They’d also make zines. First, in 1991, Homeboy, then, two years later, Dirt. Clever and funny, they became popular with the 25-and-under, proto-extreme-sport, punk/rap-inclined hipster set. During this time, Jonze also started getting hired to take photos for magazines such as Details and Interview. And he began filming skateboarding videos, including one particular deft collaboration with ‘80s skate god Mark Gonzales titled Blind Skateboard Video.

One night, backstage at a Sonic Youth concert, Gonzales gave a copy of that tape to his friend Kim Gordon, who dug it so much that she asked Tamra Davis–who had just directed her first film, Gun Crazy, and had yet to become the wife of Beastie Boy Mike D.–to work with Jonze on shooting some skateboarding segments for Sonic Youth’s video for the song “100%.” He was 21.

Jonze has always lived in something of a rarefied world inhabited by bikers, skaters, emerging rock icons, and movie stars. Even so, he notes, he first met the Beastie Boys through his sister. She and Adam Yauch met in traffic school. The Beasties and Jonze share an appreciation for the absurd. Yauch and Jonze used to do things like rent police uniforms so they could direct traffic in Manhattan.

A few short years after “100%,” Jonze was established as America’s preeminent director of unusual music videos. This fact seemed to bore him. In 1998′s Fatboy Slim “Praise You” video, the one with the dancers in front of Mann’s Chinese Theatre in Hollywood, Jonze credited the direction to Richard Koufey and the Torrance Community Dancers. To this day, Jonze denies having been a part of it. Earlier this year, a typed letter arrived at the Spin offices vehemently demanding Spin retract its report that Jonze directed the video. It was signed Richard Koufey and included a detailed résumé for Koufey that stated he was a dancer in the “Thriller” video, the “Love Shack” video, the film Dirty Dancing, and something called “Dancextravaganza” at the opening of a Dellamo Fashion Center.

IN ADDITION TO BEING JOHN MALKOVICH, Jonze has another movie coming out, one in which he acts. It’s called Three Kings and was written and directed by David O’Russell. The two met when Jonze hired Russell to help him write a script for Harold and the Purple Crayon, which was to be a partially animated adaption of the children’s book, and Jonze’s feature-film debut, but never made it into production. Jonze costars in Three Kings with George Clooney, Ice Cube, and Mark Wahlberg. They play four U.S. soldiers who try to steal a secret cache of Kuwaiti gold at the end of the Gulf War. It’s a different, very sharp war-genre picture. Jonze plays a redneck private who is the sidekick of Wahlberg’s more seasoned soldier.

“I’d never really acted before,” Jonze says. “A few little things with friends, but nothing serious. And it’s not like I really want to get into acting. But David was really into me doing it, and Mark was especially supportive. In some ways I feel like I had no right to do it. But it was a lot of fun.”

Russell recalls Jonze’s commitment to the project. “He stayed in character a lot on set, and I think he eventually regretted it because Mark started beating the shit out of him as if Spike was really his tagalong sidekick. We tried telling Mark to go easy on him, but he was in character too. I think Spike was upset that that was happening.

AMONG THOSE IMMERSED IN THE CULT of Spike Jonze, the Weird Al prank is infamous. As partially recounted in an issue of the Beastie Boys’ zine, Grand Royal, Mike D. and Russell Simins, the drummer for Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, interviewed by Weird Al. During the interview, they got the conversation to come around to the Beatles. Precisely at that moment, they had Sean Lennon and Yoko Ono walk by and staged something weird and funny. No one at Grand Royal can remember exactly what happened, but it included Spike Jonze dressed up as a waiter.

I didn’t know of the Weird Al prank until weeks after meeting Jonze. As such, I spent a good portion of my evening immediately following the Knox vs. Jonze incident breathlessly telling friends all about their fight, until a friend, a longtime skater, looked at me and matter-of-factly said: “He staged it.”

Two days after the fight I go to meet Jonze for lunch, and, even though I’m not sure, I tell him I now that the afternoon with Knox was staged. Jonze demurs. “That would be gnarly” he says. “Maybe we should come back to this topic after lunch.

We pull into a Carl’s Jr. Things between us are slightly tense. I keep pressing him on the issue as we walk into the restaurant. Jonze doesn’t say anything until he’s just about to order at the counter, then he says we should walk outside. I follow him into the parking lot toward a parked black sedan. There is a guy in dark sunglasses sitting there, sipping on a Coke.

“Dude, it’s off,” Jonze says. “We’re busted.”

Jonze then reveals that he’d “planned something” for right there, right then, at the Carl’s Jr. We all had back inside the restaurant, where Jonze begins walking around the seating area and tapping on what appear to be lonely Carl’s Jr. diners on the shoulder. There are four of them, strategically placed; two have video cameras hidden on them, on has a regular camera. Two of them, including the guy from the car, who is Jeff Tremaine, the art director of the skateboarding magazine Big Brother, are wearing hidden microphones.

“This was going to be an all-out assault,” Tremaine says. “I was going to walk by and bump into Spike and my drink was going to fall all over me. And then I was going to get all jacked at Spike and knock some shit on him and get into a fight.”

“I was actually going to take a punch this time,” Jonze says, “but I was also going to bite down on some blood pellets.” He shows me two small capsules of fake blood. “I wanted the whole article to be about how I keep getting my ass kicked.”

“I was going to knock over the salad bar,” Tremaine says. “We were going to have the whole thing on tape. I twas going to be a turkey shoot, like Kennedy.”

“You are all extremely fucked up,” I tell them.

Jonze says he started planning for it late last night and tells everyone he’s sorry he didn’t go through with it. Tremaine tells Jonze that he was excited to punch him. Then, everyone tells me some stories of previous pranks, the best of which is described as simply the Hard-On One. It goes something like this:

The guy who played Knox yesterday–a friend of Jonze’s who also pulls stunts like getting himself hit by a car (for a Big Brother photo shoot) and shooting himself with a gun while wearing a bulletproof vest (for fun)–puts on a pair of flimsy gym shorts, out of which sticks a large, fake rubber penis. Then, he goes out and gets into a pickup basketball game. Next, he walks into a guitar store, where, when a salesman hands him a cord to plug in, the salesman is pulled toward the fake rubber penis. After that, he makes a quick stop at a karate studio, from which he is quickly removed. Finally, he goes to get measured for a tux, where, according to Jonze, the tailor exclaims [in a thick Indian accent], “What? You always run around with your dick sticking out?”

“It’s amazing,” Jonze says. “We’ve got the whole thing on tape.”

After Carl’s Jr., Spike lobbies me to concoct a wild, made-up story with him, one I could submit in lieu of the article. He’s got some funny, clever ideas for it, too.

“SPIKE DIDN’T GROW UP WATCHING A TON OF FILMS or even TV,” says Kim Gordon, who has known Spike ever since he worked on “100%.” “So he’s not tied to any sense of history image-wise, the way most people are. He just has a real instinctual feel for what people like. And he’s willing to try absolutely anything.”

“I think he kind of looks at everything like it’s a chance to take a golf cart and make it go 60 miles per hour,” says his old friend Lewman. “It’s always been about having a really good time.” Even so, by all accounts Jonze is meticulous, tireless even, whether it concerns a feature film, or taking down a Carl’s Jr. salad bar. His willingness to go to almost any lengths to maintain the integrity of any project–no matter how seemingly small, trivial, or twisted–is nothing short of spectacular. It is probably the one quality that best portends him making very good movies for a long time. A vast portion of Jonze’s creative energies are consumed by these tiny, hysterical performances that will never make any money, that are solely for the benefit of himself and his like-minded friends.

“But it’s not about being weird for weird’s sake,” Lewman says. “I mean, Malkovich is a movie that, at its heart, is about something everyone can relate to–desperately wanting to be someone else.... I think a lot of how [Jonze] looks at the world might come from skating and biking. You do that as a kid and you don’t look at things normally. You look at a hockey rink and see a place to skateboard. You look at a bench as a thing to do tricks off of.”

I SEE JONZE ONE MORE TIME. HE MAKES IT OBVIOUS he’d rather I not write about the Knox and Carl’s Jr. pranks. Further, he mostly turns off my tape recorder any time I start to ask him anything. He tells me he doesn’t know what to do because he doesn’t want to come off as a guy who is lucky enough to make cool movies with big stars but is all petulant about talking to the press. He tells me again how anything he says as far as explanation of his own work is less interesting than someone’s own interpretation of his, or any, movie. About an hour passes. I ask him to name some of his favorite movies and filmmakers.

“I like stuff that is unpredictable in terms of tone,” he says. “I like Tim Burton, The World According to Garp, Being There, all the Coen brothers’ stuff. I feel really lucky to even have the opportunity to try to make those kinds of movies.”

I ask about his movie, about what Malkovich was like.

“He’s just amazing. Really genuinely eccentric. He heard about the script and contacted us, loved the idea. It was weird because he plays himself in the movie, but it’s not really him, it’s the script’s idea of him. Whenever I see him do the Dance of Despair and Disillusionment, I’m like, this guy is my hero.”

The Dance of Despair and Disillusionment is reason alone to see Being John Malkovich. In the movie, John Cusack plays a puppeteer who enters the body of John Malkovich and forces him to give up acting for puppeteering. At one point, Malkovich acts out the dance he wants to be his ultimate master-puppeteer work, the Dance of Despair and Disillusionment. Just out of the shower, he acts it out in a towel. David Fincher, the director of Seven and Fight Club, fellow former music-video director, and close friend of Jonze, calls it “up there with Butch and Sundance jumping off the cliff, as far as greatest movie moments ever go.”

I try to get Jonze to talk about other things, videos, his commercial work. (Jonze often shoots commercials, the most recent being Lee Jeans’ “Buddy Lee” spots.) He won’t. A few days later, we talk on the phone. He asks how I’ve decided to “handle” the article, says he knows I’ll write “something good.” The next day, I call him back, ask him to clear up some factual stuff, dates he worked on things, how he first met certain people. He’s not into it. But, before we get off the phone, he does answer one question.

Me: Where did the idea for the “Sabotage” video come from?

Jonze: “Australia.”

#spike jonze #spin magazine

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