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innocent-chris-evans-slut · 5 years ago

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Sunday BBQ

My Masterlist ✨

Requests are open.

Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Type: smut

Summary: Lisa had hosted a barbecue at her house, her four children and some close family friends. It was a hot August day in Boston, and you were wearing your fav skirt and a simply white crop top, which highlighted your tan. Chris couldn’t take his eyes off of you and you noticed it. He was wearing a blue t-shirt, which tightened around his muscular biceps.

Warning(s): dirty talk, daddy kink, spanking, rough sex

A wave of heat had hit Boston that day. You couldn’t go to the beach -it was too hot-, neither could you stay in for the entire Sunday. Then your mother had called, saying that Lisa Evans had organized a barbecue at her place, and you took the chance almost immediately.

You wore the first thing you had caught in your wardrobe and got in your car, never living behind Toby -your dog. You jumped in your brother’s red Jeep and in less than fifteen minutes you were parking in front of Lisa Evans’ house.

It wasn’t the biggest house you’ve ever been in, but Mama Evans knew how to take care of her garden, in fact you loved how it was arranged and the beautiful and colorful flowers on the grass. Not by chance Lisa hosted almost every Sunday a big barbecue with family’s friends and her children’s families and friends. Since when you were a child, you’d always waited the Sundays only to go to the Evans’ and have fun.

“Mum and dad are already there”, Tom told you while you were getting out of his car. Together you crossed the road and reached the Evans’ front door, “Aideen and Cristal are coming”.

Toby barked as soon as the door was opened, and you watched him disappearing into the crowded living room. You panted and turned to greet Shanna, who had welcomed you in her mother’s house.

“The guys are in the backyard”, she informed your brother, who crossed the living room and made his way to the yard. Instead you followed Shanna in the kitchen, where you met your mother and Cristal, your younger sister. “So, how is it going at school? Do the children already love their new teacher?”

“It isn’t that simple”, you answered, thanking Lisa as she filled a glass of lemonade for you, “But…they trust me and laugh at my jokes. That’s my biggest achievement so far”, all the women in the room laughed at your statement, including your mother, who had heard that story a couple of times before. “It’s been a while since last Sunday at the Evans’.”

“I know, my dear. This summer I’m determined to re-establish the tradition”, Lisa caressed your back and sent you a reassuring smile, before being interrupted by her husband.

“Ladies, lunch is almost ready.”

You, as all the women in the room, headed out the kitchen and followed Mr. Evans in the backyard, where you brother and other men were grilling meat. You approached Scott, who had been waving you since you had stepped out of the house, “Hey, man!”

“Hey, stranger. I haven’t seen you in ages”, Scott, being a child, as always, teased you and poked your nose, “What’s going on?”

“I’ve been busy with kids at school. I’m officially a teacher!” you cheered and made a quick happy dance, just like when you were a child and happy danced basically for everything, “I’m so…uuh” you stopped talking when you felt something slimy on your ankle. You looked down and saw a tiny white dog licking you, “Hi, baby. Already tired of playing with other dogs?” you grabbed him in your hands and petted his head, just as he liked it.

“He’s a hairball and he’s lazy. Prove me that I’m wrong”, a strong, deep voice said, and you knew who was trying to make you angry, “Just like his owner”.

Chris Evans stood in front of you, one arm around his brother’s shoulder and a cold beer in the other hand. “Hi”, he stuck out his tongue at you and it reminded you how much a child he was.

“What are you doing here?” you asked in a harsh tone, succeeding in not let your excitement to show up, “No movie? No Hollywood Star appointment?” You let Toby rush to his food as you saw Shanna reaching out for him

“Nope, unfortunately for you”, his attention was completely on you, once that Scott had excused himself and ran away from the two of you, “Free for my family and friends”, he took one last drink from his beer and threw the bottle in its proper can, “And you, of course”.

“Good luck with that. Last time didn’t go so well”, having said that, you left him alone, with his thoughts, and made your way back to where your mother and brothers were. “Is that anything left for me?” you took a plate and filled it up with chips, grilled vegetables and an infinite amount of sauces.

Basically, everything that was on the long buffet table, except for the meat -which was being grilled by the men. Logan, your older brother, dragged you in front of the grill and made you wait there with a huge, ceramic dish in your hands. You looked at how all the men were focused on their portion of the grill, but only one caught your attention and it was Chris.

He had his sleeves rolled up and his broad biceps fully on display for everyone. His pecs tensed underneath the think material of his blue shirt and you could clearly see them.

“D’you like what you see?” his tease snapped you out of your thoughts. He saw you blinking and gasping, before, eventually, addressing him an annoyed face, “What? You’re basically drooling over me”, he flipped the grilling meat, interrupting your exchange of gaze, “I have eyes, Little One”.

“Stop calling me like that!”

“It’s not a nickname, it’s a matter of fact” Chris pierced various steaks of meat and nodded you to get closer to him, which you did -even if reluctantly, “You’re ten years younger than me, if I’m not wrong”, he started filling up the dish in your hands with steaks and hot dogs.

“Yeah, you’re right”, you rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue, “And I hate you”, you saw as he put down the big fork and the spatula and grabbed the plate from your hands -which was becoming hotter.

“Nah, you don’t”, he nodded towards his beer -the second of the day- behind you and you got you had to grab that, “You secretly love me”.

“And that’s such a secret that I didn’t even know it”, you stated and look at your feet as you got down of the area where the grills were. “Thank you for enlightening me, by the way”.

After placing the dish down on the buffet table, you gave the beer back to its owner. While you were handing it to him, your fingers slightly touched, but it was enough for you to shiver.

You couldn’t deny that; Chris had been your first serious crush and being friend with him didn’t help you cause. Moreover, being him very friendly with quite everyone, he’d never missed the chance to hug you, kiss your cheek, or touch your thighs while laughing together -and you loved him being touchy with you.

But that, damn, that wasn’t something you looked for, it came and brought butterflies to your stomach. You taught to kids in elementary school, yet at that moment you felt like a teenager, inexperienced with guys.

You raised your eyes and found him already looking at you. It was like a movie scene; with the two characters whose lives changed once their hands touched. But it was real life, and, in the real life, things didn’t go as in a movie. Your special moment was ruined by your mother yelling your name and searching for you in the yard.

“I gotta go. That’s yours”, and without saying another word, you rushed across the garden and disappeared, leaving Chris speechless and jammed.

You were stuck with your mother and sisters for three hours. You ate with them and told them how your teaching life was going that far, which had been exciting for the first fifteen minutes, then it annoyed you, too. You found yourself often searching for a pair of blue-green eyes which had your knees tremble not long before.

When you could no longer listen to your mother talking about your happy childhood and how your parents had been crucial in your academic choice, you excused yourself and got up, heading to the bathroom. It was occupied at the first floor, so you made your way upstairs and quickly found the room you were looking for.

“Sneaking in my bedroom?”

You flinched when you heard a male voice coming from behind you, and you knew whose voice was that, “You’re unbelievable”.

“Nah, I’m incredible”, Chris put his phone in his back pocket and lowered his gaze at you, “And you’re really cute today”.

You shook your head as the grip on the door handle tightened, “Cute?” you lowered your gaze, looking how you were dressed and looked back at him, “Are you noticing it only now?”

Chris didn’t reply to you, he had a quick glance at your surroundings and wrapped his arms around your waist, pushing you against the door behind you, “I did notice it”, his hand reached the handle and pushed it down. Chris pulled you inside and locked the door once inside, “And I’ve thinking about one-hundred ways to get you under me”.

You weren’t surprised, not at all. To everyone’s eyes you and Chris were just friends who liked hanging out together whenever it was possible. The truth was that you two had history, behind everyone’s back.

You felt his biceps flexing under your hands and you smirked, “And which one is you favorite?” you placed your hands at the base of his neck, “C’mon, tell me”, you encouraged him when you saw he wasn’t going to answer your question.

“We’re in my parents’ house, what makes you think I’m gonna fuck you here?” his grip tightened around your waist and that made you gasp, “C’mon, tell me”, he mocked of you when you didn’t reply to him immediately.

“You become ruthless when it comes to fuck”, you moved your hands behind his neck and pulled a string of hair too long. You brushed his cheek with your lips, and you heard him groaning. Not completely satisfied with yourself, you pulled closer to him and crushed your hips against him.

“Bend over.”

His firm and harsh tone made you shiver. It had always done. When talking like that with you, Chris knew he had you wet, trembling, and throbbing for him. He knew you would have begged him until you were no longer capable of speaking.

You did as he asked, and your face met the cold marble surface before you could hear an abrupt sound and warm spreading on your left ass-cheek.

“Did you just-?” you lifted your head and looked straight at him, startled by what he had just done.

“You can bet you ass I did”, having said that, Chris let his hand fall on your ass once more and the vibration of that spank went straight to your throbbing clit, “Now…tell me what I wanna hear”.

You heard metal noises coming from behind you, acknowledging what he was doing, “Please”.

“I��ll show your ass to the word if you don’t say the magic words”, his big, callous hands went raising your baby blue skirt up to your hips, and soon after they automatically found their way to your chest. Chris dangerously shoved his hardening cock against your core and hissed in pleasure.

You couldn’t endure it anymore; the pleasure growing inside you was too much that it was becoming painful and you knew he wouldn’t let you come if you misbehaved. Your clit was hurting, and it was a matter of time before you would drip yourself wet. You closed your eyes and gave up: “Please, daddy, fuck me”, Chris’ hand went down on your ass-cheek abruptly once more and encouraged you to go on, “Pleeease. I’ve been craving you all day”, you pushed your ass towards his hips, and you heard him cursing under his breath.

“You’re acting like a brat”, he set his buckle next to your face and you shivered, “Do you know what brats get?”

You didn’t reply to him, not because you didn’t want to, but because the pain was becoming too much that you couldn’t assemble a sentence.

“What-”, spank, “-do-”, another spank, “-they-“, Chris changed side, “-get?” one last spank.

“T-they…don’t g-get to c-come”, you were a trembling mess. Your weight was completely on your chest as your legs caved in when he’d started spanking you, “B-but, please, make me cum, daddy”.

“If you keep it quiet and low, I can consider making you come”, Chris’ hands searched for your underwear and, once found it, he pulled it down to your ankles, “Quiet and low, remember”.

You closed your eyes and prayed the God as Chris pushed himself inside you, stretching all your inner muscles. You moaned when he pulled out, only to go back where he left and boost his entire length inside your channel. You arched your back as you felt his thumb teasing your asshole, “P-please”.

“Oh, God…” Chris groaned as increased his pace. Thrusts became quicker and fiercer, leaving you breathless, “Keep it low”, he warned you not a second before adopting an ungodly speed.

You couldn’t form a word anymore, the only things coming out from your mouth were moans -which you had to hold on. You could only beg him for your own release, which wasn’t far away since the familiar warm had already formed and was spreading in your stomach.

“As much I want to take my time with you-“ Chris lifted your chin and made you look at him while speaking, “-I’ve thought of taking you like this the whole day-“, he kissed your forehead and left a trail of sweet kisses from there to your mouth, “-after this, we call it a day and leave”, as he pinched your clit, you both came and you had to repress a scream.

You were out of breath, bent over the furniture in the bathroom of Lisa Evans’ house, and at the mercy of her older son. In less than fifteen minutes Chris had transformed you into a whimpering and sweating mess, you were sticky between your legs, and you back hurt for the countless times you had arched it, “Chris”, you called him, who didn’t appeared better than you, “You gotta help me”.

The man behind you giggled, but helped you standing back on your feet, he re-dressed you and rested a kiss on your collarbone, jaw, nose, and, finally, lips, “Have I ever told you how much I actually like you?” he rhetorically asked, looking straight at your eyes.

“Only every time you fuck me. And before fucking me another time”, you wrap your arms around his waist and rested your head in the crock of his neck, inhaling his strong, musky, after-sex scent -the one you loved so much, yet you weren’t brave enough to tell him that.

“Don’t fall asleep. We have a long afternoon and a long night in front of us”, Chris rub a thumb on your left cheek, and you closed your eyes, wallowing that sensation, “Let’s go, Princess”.

Tag List:

ALL MY STORIES:

@thummbelina

@thegetawaywriter

@coffeebooksandfandom

@kiza4

ALL CHRIS EVANS:

@stargazingfangirl18

@rororo06

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x reader #smut chris evans #smut #captain america #steve rogers #marvel #marvel smut #real life #ransom drysdale #knives out

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zigtheeortega · 4 years ago

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if we meet again

[part one of the again series]

pairing | bryce x mc

word count | 10k

warnings | mentions of sex, innuendos, drinking.

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @dakotawinchester, @writinghereandthere, @pixelsandkink, @masquerade-reimagined, @choicesarehard, @nerdferatum, @bobbymckenzie, @agentdumortain, @bryceslahela, @lahellacute, @violinet, @zigsnose, @adamdusmortain, @drsobemoji, @choeries, @houserosario, @plasticdodecagon, @noimarocketman (tagged sideblogs instead of main blogs!)

author’s note | so i recently finished the before trilogy of films, and i really wanted to write something based off of it but in a way that would better encapsulate bryce and my mc spencer! part one consists of years 1 - 4, taking place through their undergrad years at university. this is gonna be a bit of a journey so buckle up!

read on ao3! [disclaimer: ao3 version has smut included, not separate.]

•─────────────────•

year one

The ride from the airport to her parents’ home was long and grueling, the slushy ice pelting the windshield barely passing for snow.

It was practically sub-zero outside, a stark difference between the mid seventies weather she’d just left.

Boarding a plane wearing a tank top and layering as she stepped off was a weird experience to say the least. It was like stepping into another world.

The cookie cutter suburbs were nauseatingly bland. Was this really what her parents wanted?

Sure, they were the typical awestruck immigrant family who were obsessed with the American experience, but to be wholly consumed by it? God she never wanted a roundtrip date to come so fast in her life.

They’d closed on the house faster than she could complain about it, but she couldn’t have done much anyways. They’d packed the house up right before she left for her freshman year of college, so the decision didn’t affect her too much.

The slush came down harder, sounding nearly like hail on the roof of her taxi.

She glanced down at her dirty tennis shoes and grimaced – she dreaded having to lug her suitcase from the taxi to her front door.

When it screeched to a stop, she handed the driver a couple bills (leaving a hefty tip, because hey, it was the holidays) and retrieved her things from the trunk.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, suitcase gripped in her right hand, she braced the freezing wet rain.

The walk from the mailbox to the front door was way longer than she remembered. About halfway up the short stairs, she made a crucial mistake. The ball of her foot caught a patch of ice and she tumbled to the ground.

“Ah, fuck,” she grumbled, twisting her body so she was sitting on the stairs. The rain seeped through her jeans, freezing her ass and thighs.

“Hey, miss, you okay?” A voice called from across the lawn.

Her loose hoodie obstructed her vision, so she couldn’t see the man, but she heard his shoes squelch across the grass as he jogged towards her.

“Here, lemme take that,” he said, grabbing her backpack and suitcase before helping her up with his free hand.

She tossed her hood back to catch a glimpse of the kind stranger, and her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of the handsome boy in front of her.

A single dimple appeared on one of his flushed cheeks as he flashed a grin at her, his hair damp from the falling rain. “You good?” He asked again, brown eyes searching hers.

“Uh, yeah, I’m alright. Thanks for coming to help me up,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.

“I’ll help you to the front door. This is your house, right? I’m not aiding and abetting a burglar?” He teased, turning to walk towards her door.

“No, no. My parents live here,” she said, pointing at the house.

“And you don’t?”

“Technically yeah, in between semesters,” she said, shrugging. “Just took my last final this morning.”

“Oh, cool, me too. I made it in a couple hours ago,” he said, gesturing to the house to the left of theirs.

“So, our parents are neighbors?”

He grinned. “You sound disappointed.”

She shook her head, shoving her hands in her pockets. “No, it’s nice to know someone my age around here. They moved into this house right as I was moving into my dorm, so I didn’t get a chance to get to know anyone.”

“I guarantee my parents were the one to sell you this house,” he said, handing her the backpack and rolling her the suitcase.

“Your parents are realtors? That’s cool,” she said, nodding. “They must be great at their jobs if they convinced them to buy the house so fast.”

He laughed, eyes crinkling at the edges, his irresistible dimple popping up again. “I don’t know shit about the housing market, stranger.”

She couldn’t hold her giggle back. His laugh was infectious. “I’m the stranger? You ran up to me first.”

“Yeah, but I landed first, so I deem you the stranger,” he said, gently poking her arm. “So, stranger, do you have a name?”

“Spencer Matsuzaki,” she said, holding a hand out, half of her palm covered with the damp wrist of her hoodie.

“Bryce Lahela. Nice to meet you, stranger.”

––––

The first night home wasn’t terrible. She was practically interrogated, though.

She zoned out, slipping into the same routine she always did when she was bombarded with questions about school.

She had to stay neutral and cordial while explaining aspects of her life in grave detail on top of leaving out tons of information for her parents' health. Her parents would go into cardiac arrest if they knew how much she’d drank that semester.

After dinner, she retreated into her room for the night, grimacing at the catalogue-esque decor. Her parents really leaned into the middle class american aesthetic, and she wasn’t fond of it.

She missed living in the city. Their apartment overlooked her favorite movie theater, favorite coffee shop, and the playground of her old elementary school a couple streets over.

She missed being within walking distance of places that harbored her favorite memories. And from her new window, her view was nothing more than the house across the street and a few scattered bare trees.

The only thing she enjoyed about her new house was the balcony in front of her window, just large enough for her to sit comfortably with another person. Not like that was happening anytime soon, though.

She tugged the blanket around her shoulders, trying to fight off the biting cold. She tightened the drawstrings of her hoodie, shielding her headphones from the wind so she could hear her music clearly.

Her thoughts wandered to the boy next door.

Bryce Lahela. Beautiful face, beautiful name.

She couldn’t really put a finger on it, but something about him was so familiar. Like she’d known him for lifetimes already.

God, she admired people with that quality – being able to make someone so comfortable the minute you meet them that they just slip into whatever void you’d needed filling.

Potentially a dangerous quality, but Spencer didn’t let herself think about that possibility.

The snow had let up, the freezing temperature preserving what’d already fallen. She allowed herself a glance over at the Lahela residence, half hoping she’d find him outside.

Thankfully enough, he was exiting the front door with a wide shovel in hand, bundled up properly, unlike when they’d met a couple hours before.

She watched him as he easily shoveled the muddy sludge off of the walkways. It was just quiet enough that she could hear his soft grunts with effort at the initial plunge of the shovel into the snow.

She didn’t mean to stare. But what else was there to watch? The road was quiet, bare, like a car passing by too loudly would break the suburbian immersion.

After he’d shoveled the first pathway leading up to the house, he moved to the driveway – not before he ripped the beanie off of his head, shaking out his golden strands.

She watched unabashedly, trying to figure out how the hell a gorgeous surfer bro straight out of a Hollister ad was living next door.

He squinted in her general direction, throwing up a gloved hand to cover his eyes. A grin spread quickly, and he tossed the shovel to the ground with the other hand, using it to wave.

“Hey, stranger!” He called.

She ducked down, trying to hide her blushing cheeks as his laugh rang out, disrupting the silence.

–––

Ten pages from the end of her crime novel, right before they revealed the killer, a heavy handed knock caused Spencer to jolt nearly a foot into the air from her sitting position on the couch.

She picked up the book that morning, trying to do something productive that’d double as an excuse to get out of conversing with her parents. Eight hours later, give or take, and they’d barely bugged her for meals, let alone awkward small talk.

Shuffling to the door in her pajama pants, she yawned as she yanked the door open, expecting to see a mailman or something of that nature.

Bryce stood there instead, flirty smile and all, dimple pronounced like the cherry on top of his overwhelming attractiveness.

“Am I boring you already? Sheesh,” he teased, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She cut her yawn off, squeezing her eyes shut. “Sorry, I –” She cut herself off with yet another yawn, shaking her head. “Uh, sorry. I know that was probably super ugly.”

He shrugged. “I thought it was cute.”

She tugged her arms around herself, the tank top doing virtually nothing to shield her from the cold. “So… What’s up?”

He grinned, digging in his pocket. “I’m glad you asked.”

He whipped out two tickets, handing them to her. “Light show. You and me. Now.”

“Now?” She asked, eyebrows shooting up to her hairline.

“Yeah, now. What about it?”

She gestured to her outfit. “I’m not dressed.”

“So? Get dressed,” he shrugged again.

She rolled her eyes. “You really think my parents will let me out this late? I came back to a curfew, you know.”

“Oh. We can work around that.”

“How?” She was genuinely baffled by this guy’s confidence.

“Sneak out.”

“Did you… Did you just skip over the part where I hinted at how strict my parents are?”

He shrugged, again. “Worst case scenario, they ground you for the rest of the break. Then you go back to college in a couple weeks, and they can’t boss you around there, so what are you really risking?”

She chewed her lip, contemplating. “I mean, I can’t argue with you on that one.”

“So you’ll come?”

“Yeah. You’re lucky my parents aren’t home right now,” she said, jabbing an accusatory finger at him.

“Like they could resist this face.”

––––

Downtown – or what she presumed was downtown – was overtaken by lights, the edges of the area blocked off, vendors lined up in parking spaces, nets of overhead lights illuminating the huge displays below.

They’d been walking in silence for a while, just soaking it in and basking in the holiday spirit.

Despite her disdain for the town, Spencer loved the way they celebrated the holidays.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Bryce said a bit suddenly, running off before she had a chance to respond.

“Oh… kay,” Spencer murmured, watching him disappear into the crowd. She tugged at her beanie, raking shaky fingers through her hair.

Bryce was… unwavering. He had such a strong personality and a knack for flirting without meaning to.

To put it in its simplest terms, he made her nervous. Really nervous.

It was like the minute he left her immersion was broken and she realized just how hot he was and that she should be nervous.

Her eyes wandered, trying to alleviate some of her apprehension. She hadn’t been to a community-unifying event like that one before, so watching the families and children prance through the snow was enough to fulfill the soft spot in her heart only classic Christmas movies could fill.

“Here,” Bryce huffed from behind her, breaking her concentration.

She turned at the sound of his voice, flinching when she realized how close he was to her, disposable coffee cup in hand, steam slithering out of the small hole in the lid.

“What’s that?”

“Hot chocolate. I figured you’d want something to warm you up,” he smiled, lifting one shoulder in a lazy shrug.

“Oh, this is perfect,” she said graciously, taking the cup from his hands, warming both by the way their fingers brushed each others’ and the heat from the drink. “Thank you.”

“Ah, no need to thank me. It’s the least I could do after dragging you out here,” he said a bit sheepishly, kicking the toe of his boot into the snow.

“You didn’t drag me out anywhere. You were convincing,” she laughed, taking a small sip of the hot chocolate, revelling in the way it warmed her from the inside out. “Maybe a bit too convincing.”

“I don’t need to know how powerful I am or I’ll let it go to my head,” he winked. “How is it?”

“Delicious.”

He nodded. “Perfect.”

She sipped on her drink in silence for a while, racking her brain to come up with conversation topics.

They’d really only spoken in passing, so what the fuck were they supposed to talk about?

“So… you want to ride the train?” He asked, pointing at the train riding through the town square.

Within minutes they were seated on the train in the caboose – the very last seat. Families were spread out through the first couple cars, then onto couples.

They probably didn’t want toddlers watching high school aged kids swapping spit, so they sent them to the back.

That notion made Spencer nervous. Was she on a date? He hadn’t really specified – hell, he was barely giving her details about where they were going before dragging her out of her house.

The train began to move, slowly riding through the square, the families in the front chatting and the children giggling and waving at the passing patrons.

She chatted with Bryce about nothing in particular, just kind of getting to know each other. She found out he loved baseball, hated night classes, and was a huge fan of pineapple – he could smell it in her shampoo.

She’d just begun to relax before noticing the young couple in front of her lean in for a kiss that turned a bit heated. Her hands were clasped in her lap to keep them from trembling, her breath just as shaky.

A warm arm grazed her shoulders, his arm resting on the top of the seat. There wasn’t any pressure for her to do anything with him. But she kind of wanted to.

She mustered up the courage to flick her gaze in his direction, settling on his soft, pleasant smile, seemingly permanent on Bryce’s features.

“Is this a date?” She blurted, cursing herself immediately.

He didn’t seem phased.

“If you want it to be.”

She definitely did.

––––

The walk to her front door was long, even longer than when she was on her own lugging her belongings through the icy slush.

“I had a really nice time, Bryce,” she said, ambling up the last couple steps.

“Me, too. I’m glad I bought an extra ticket yesterday,” he grinned.

She raised a brow at him, prompting him to continue.

“After I helped you inside I immediately left to go get tickets,” he said bashfully. His cheeks were flushed – from the cold or the admission, she had no idea.

“So you’d had this date planned for a whole day?” She asked, a bit taken aback. He’d definitely painted it out to be a spur of the moment thing, no premeditation in sight.

“So it was a date,” he teased, dimple even more prominent as he spoke.

She scrunched her lips to the side to hide her own smile. “Yeah, I think it was.”

“Can I kiss you?”

She made the grave mistake of breaking eye contact, her gaze darting from his mouth back to his eyes. He closed the gap between them in one step.

“I can’t kiss you in front of my house. My parents could see,” she whispered as his gloved hand flicked her messy strands away from her cheeks.

“You wanna save this for another time?” Her heart couldn’t help but race at his playful tone.

She nodded.

“How long are you gonna be here for break?” He asked. “I wanna see you again.”

“I’ll be here through the week.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pulled her into a hug, warm and enveloping despite the cold. “Goodnight, Spencer. Sweet dreams.”

She was so comfortable, so safe in his grip that when she felt him loosen it, she squeezed him tighter without really meaning to.

It was scary how quickly she’d grown attached to a complete stranger.

“‘Night,” she waved, eyes still trained on him as she closed the door.

––––

It took her way too long to fall asleep that night.

His last question and her agreeance to the terms ran through her head on loop.

She was anticipating what he was going to do next. Excited to see how the rest of her break would look like.

After a restless night, she awoke pretty early, lounging around in bed for way too long, aimlessly scrolling through social media.

A day ago, she’d have been jealous of her friends vacationing at the beach, but… she wasn’t as upset at the idea of being home for break.

She stood up, stretching and popping her limbs, grabbing a hoodie from her luggage to throw on.

As she did, something caught her attention, just at the edge of her peripheral – a folded slip of paper in her window sill.

She grabbed it, unravelling the damp paper, trying to decipher the bleeding ink.

“Had to leave earlier than I thought. Sorry. Not sure when I’ll see you again, so here’s my number.”

The paper had been covered in water for a long while, so long that the number at the bottom was smudged, the hardest to read out of the whole message. She could barely make out the area code, let alone the rest of it.

She crumpled it up and threw it in the trash, deciding she could just head over and ask his parents for his number instead if he’d left for school.

After trudging across the lawn through the snow, she noticed something was a bit off, but decided to push the feeling down and ring the doorbell.

She peered through the glass of their front door, realizing that the lights were off, clothes and boxes and bags strewn across the foyer.

No one was home.

––––

year two

The moment the taxi pulled to a stop in front of her house, her eyes searched the front lawn of the house next door.

The familiar sensation of disappointment lingered, despite her constant chastising to not get her hopes up.

She sat on her balcony for a couple hours a day, the space heater on full blast at her feet, trying not to look desperate as her eyes flickered to and from Bryce’s house.

But no one entered or exited the house all break.

––––

year three

He stared down the bottom of the glass, eyes trained on the milky film the eggnog left behind, the spiced rum shots he’d taken warming his limbs.

The trial had been grueling.

No one could’ve prepared him for the way the legal system chewed him up and spat him out each time he entered the courtroom and sat on the opposite side of the room, avoiding his parents’ cold glares.

He shouldn’t have had to testify against them in the first place, but who else were they going to call to the stand? Keiki? She could barely write her own name, let alone understand her rights.

And she shouldn’t have to see her parents – hell, her whole family – being scrutinized and ripped apart, televised for anyone within a thousand mile radius.

He didn’t know that this town was their escape.

If someone would’ve told him two years ago that his first Christmas in college would’ve left him in shambles, his entire world upturned, he wouldn’t have believed them.

Thank god it was one of the only properties they owned that was untouched by their blood money.

Word had spread to his university students, causing him to have to go into hiding. Did all his work from home, got special permission from the chancellor to move his courses online.

He was forced to stay in Hawaii, juggling court and school on top of the press and the general stress of life – he’d been on autopilot since his parents woke him up in the middle of the night to fly back home.

The moment he finished his finals that semester, he boarded the plane without a second thought.

He needed an escape.

Despite the whirlwind, she was on the back of his mind through it all.

Anytime his life got a little too difficult, his mind roamed to the last time he felt normal – the last 48 hours before everything went to shit.

When he’d touched down he’d entered the empty, dusty house, throwing his things down and trudging next door.

The heavy raps of his knuckles against the wooden door were the only display of confidence he could muster.

Is Spencer here? He asked.

She’s in Europe for break.

Europe.

Of all the places she had to be during the holidays, it had to be across the world.

So he found himself at the bar, a newly 21 year old downing holiday drinks as fast as the bartender could make them.

She’d probably forgotten about him. It’s best he moved on anyways.

––––

year four

Graduation was so close she could taste it.

Yeah, she was drowning in med school applications and coming down from her post MCAT high, but her degree was peeking over the horizon, just within her reach.

She could only afford to visit home for a couple days before she had to roadtrip to a couple med schools to tour and interview.

She’d grown into herself the past three years, gaining confidence she didn’t know she had in her. Countless haircuts, style changes, shifts in interest – anytime she was uncomfortable she reinvented herself. It was freeing as hell.

So… going home was weird. Like she was regressing. She knew she wasn’t, but it didn’t stop the itching feeling that she didn’t belong there.

Her parents convinced her to visit for the holidays since it was her last year before she was truly on her own. The car ride was anxiety inducing – she tried to shove the thoughts to the back of her brain.

It’d been three years. She couldn’t dwell on it anymore. It was just a fun weekend, a spontaneous date, a gorgeous guy. Nothing more than that.

She’d moved on for sure – lots of dates, sloppy bar makeouts, and one night stands – but she couldn’t completely forget about the stranger.

It wasn’t like anything super memorable happened – it was a classic crush because of how confident he was.

Now that she’d started to emulate that same confidence herself, the allure was mostly gone, but she just couldn’t let him go no matter how hard she tried.

This time her eyes flickered to the house next door, gaze lingering a bit longer than she wanted to allow herself to look.

At least on paper she was growing.

–––––

Her first dinner at home was the same as always. She spent most of the time dodging intrusive questions and diplomatically answering as well as she could.

Maybe she should’ve thanked her parents for pressuring her to come home – it was perfect interview preparation and she didn’t have to lift a finger.

Her room was untouched as usual, the decor nauseatingly basic – if she hated it before, she hated it more now.

The suburban life was even farther away from what she’d wanted three years ago. Fast paced city life and a job in a world renowned hospital were her only two goals as far as she was concerned. Anything else could wait.

As she unpacked her toiletries, she found herself glancing at the door to her balcony.

She shook it off, choosing to settle in bed with a warm blanket with her laptop and planner, trying to focus on her diploma application.

––––

She jolted awake, scrubbing the sleeve of her jacket across her cheek, grimacing when she saw streaks of drool on the fabric.

She shuddered a bit, realizing she fell asleep on top of the covers, the room’s temperature absolutely freezing.

The space heater was close by, luckily, so she didn’t have to shuffle far to plug it in, crouching down next to it to rub her hands in front of it.

The window to her balcony was cracked just slightly – it’d probably blown open bc of the wind or something. She pushed herself to her feet again, closing and locking the door, but not before catching a glimpse of a light. It wasn’t a streetlight. It was a porch light.

She flung the door open and stepped onto the balcony, ignoring the snow seeping through her fuzzy socks, numbing her toes.

Bryce’s lights were on, and fresh tire tracks trailed up the driveway to the garage.

––––

She tossed and turned that night, a little glad that she’d gotten at least some sleep in the form of a nap.

She gave up after a while, brewing coffee and sitting in the kitchen with her laptop for a couple of hours before her parents awoke.

When they finally woke up, she practically jumped at the chance to ask them about him.

“No one’s lived next door for years. Someone comes and checks up on it once or twice a year, but other than that, it’s vacant,” her mother said, elbows deep in a sink full of dirty plates.

She was thankful her mom was preoccupied so she wouldn’t see her deflate.

––––

Spencer allowed herself approximately thirty minutes of sulking before she made a to-do list of everything she needed to get done before noon.

She’d been home for less than a day and she was already itching to get out.

The drive from her parents’ house to the tiny coffee shop was short, the handful of tables inside bare. She guessed it was because most people were at home enjoying spending time with family – she was the odd one out for having her planner and laptop splayed across the table.

She was neck deep in a chem textbook when she saw him.

He was more chiseled. Taller, too.

The beanie was tugged tight around his head, cheeks flushed. The quarter zip up fit him like a glove, hugging every single muscle.

He slipped his gloves off, tucking them into his pocket, squinting – probably trying to decipher the inane pun names for each drink.

“Can I get a, uh, latte with a couple espresso shots?” She heard him ask, peeking over the top of her textbook, trying to get a good look at him.

He chuckled pretty suddenly, pointing at the clear display of pastries. “Add one of those little things onto it.”

“You mean the ‘Rudolph Red Velvet’ cake pop or the ‘Dasher & Dancer Dark Chocolate’, sir?” The teen said.

His grin stretched even wider, hunching over to read the labels. “Can you tell me the rest of the flavors?”

“Well, we’ve got the full setup of reindeers. It gets pretty confusing at times – ’Dasher & Dancer Dark Chocolate’, ‘Prancer & Vixen Vanilla’, ‘Comet & Cupid Cheesecake’, ‘Donner & Blitzen Berry’, and ‘Rudolph Red Velvet’,” the teen listed off, pointing at the nearly identical cake pops.

He laughed, booming throughout the small room, ringing out even over the blenders.

Yeah, that was Bryce. No doubt about it.

“Give me one of each,” he said, handing the teen a couple bills. While they counted the change, Bryce tossed a $20 bill onto the counter. “This is compensation for having to read those god awful names.”

They mirrored his expression, pocketing the bill.

Spencer was nearly frozen with fear – she didn’t think she was going to run into him. She looked frumpy and felt exhausted, and was a little frustrated at how little she understood from the passages she’d tried deciphering.

She stood up, then sat down immediately. She stood up again, conflicted.

But before she could decide what to do, he turned, coffee in hand, bag of cake pops in the other – one cake pop tucked deep into his cheek.

She saw him.

He saw her.

Time slowed.

She was grateful that he was the first to move towards her, eyes bright, gaze soft like he’d seen an old friend – God, that reaction alone was enough to make Spencer float above the clouds.

He chewed his cake pop on the way over, setting down his bag and coffee near the edge of the table out of the way of her mess.

“Hey,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food, chewing vigorously.

“Bryce, oh my god, I – I thought I’d never see you again – you just disappeared and –”

He held up a hand, swallowing. “What’d you say?”

“Oh, I said that I thought I’d never see you again –”

“Wait, wait,” he flipped the side of his beanie up, revealing wireless headphones, which he tugged out and immediately pocketed.

Christ. Embarrassing. Her cheeks burned, inwardly cringing. This is going so swimmingly, Spencer.

He shook his head incredulously, mouth moving like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

“I… didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, eyes slowly raking over her features.

“Oh my god, I didn’t think I’d see you, Bryce,” she said, nervously adjusting her glasses. Good thing he didn’t notice her recycling sentiments.

“So… how have you been?” He smiled, taking a sip of his latte.

He was playing this way cooler than she was. How was he not freaking the fuck out?

“I’ve been good. Uh, good and kinda busy I guess. I’m waiting to hear back from a couple of med schools and I’m graduating this spring, so I’m excited about that,” she said, trying and failing to figure out how to condense three years worth of personal growth into a couple sentences without boring him to tears. “What about you?”

He nodded, tipping back the steaming latte again. “I’ve been pretty good. Got into my dream med school and it’s, like, across the country from where I am now, so that’ll be good for me. Fresh start, you know?”

She gave him a slight smile, closing her textbook and stacking her planner on top of it.

“Oh, I was just picking this stuff up, so I can let you get back to studying,” he said, unsure, jabbing his thumb towards the door.

“No, no, I was closing it so I can give you my full attention,” she explained, shaking her head. “Just getting some random stuff done. I’m fine.”

He relaxed a bit more at that, settling into his seat like he was at home. “So… what are you working on?”

“I’m getting some last stuff done before I leave this weekend. Just some basic housekeeping. Ironing out details, you know,” she nodded, fiddling with the frayed hole on the hem of her hoodie.

He was trying to jump back in like everything was… normal. This wasn’t normal.

“Oh you’re leaving?” He seemed disappointed, a wrinkle forming between his brows where he pushed them together.

“Yeah, I’m using part of my break to fit in some last minute tours and interviews.”

“Oh… Well if you’re leaving soon, do you wanna do dinner at my place tonight?” He asked. “I feel like we’d be more comfortable catching up there.”

A… date? After all these years? And he still knows literally nothing about me?

––––

She chewed her lip, trying to hold back a smile.

His pulse raced, wondering if she’d reject him. He should’ve thought it through before blurting out a question like that. He’d spoken to her for all of five minutes and he was already asking her to go back to his place.

“So… is this a date?”

The mischievous look on her face was contagious – just a hint of flirtatious teasing like the first time they met.

“Yeah, but only if you want it to be,” he answered, tossing the drink back again, the liquid warming his insides (his morning run was long, and the wind was biting).

“And if I don’t?” She adjusted her glasses again, the only sign of tension amidst her otherwise calm demeanor.

And if he hadn’t ran through the memories of that night over and over, fixating on every little detail he managed to retain, he might’ve not caught it.

Her nervousness was a comfort – It meant she still liked him enough to be on edge around him.

“Then we’re just two neighbors catching up while eating food,” he shrugged, popping another cake pop in his mouth.

He held the bag out to her. “Want one?”

She peered over into the bag, lashes gently brushing her under eyes. “Will you get mad if I take Rudolph?”

God, she was so fucking pretty. He couldn’t get over it. All these years and she only managed to get hotter.

“Why would that bother me?” He mumbled through his mouth full of cake.

“He’s supposed to be special, right? I just thought you’d want him,” she said, crossing her arms on the table and leaning in more.

He sat up, leaning an elbow on the table, tipping forward to close the gap between them – he plucked the cake pop from the bag by its stick, waving it in front of her face.

She didn’t retreat. The only reaction was the color rising to her cheeks, a hint of rouge beneath the spatter of light freckles on her face – the ones that no one could see unless they were this close.

“You’re special, too, y’know,” he said, pushing the limits even more, bringing it to her lips. “Take it.”

He was egging her on, testing whatever change she’d clearly been through – underneath the confidence lurked something sultry that he desperately wanted to bring out of her.

She leaned forward and lowered her mouth around the pop, sinking her teeth into the stick, her lips grazing the tips of Bryce’s fingers.

She pulled back, chewing through a smile. “Yum.”

His stomach flipped, but he kept his poker face even.

It was odd, having this girl in front of him that he’d thought about for years when he’d convinced himself it was a fluke or a dream or a little bit of both.

They both chewed in silence, eyes still firmly locked on each other.

There was so much he needed to say but it just wasn’t the right time.

“What time should I come over?” She asked after swallowing.

“When do you usually eat dinner?”

She rolled her eyes at him, still trying to hold back a smile even though she clearly found him mildly entertaining if not infuriating as hell (which was an attitude he thrived off of).

“I don’t care, Spence. Whenever you want.”

––––

Bryce tapped his foot, adjusting the napkins and cutlery for the hundredth time before pacing towards the monitor that showed him the front door’s security cam.

He should not have told her to come over whenever. The delivery guy was stuck in traffic, so his whole plan of pretending like he cooked was thwarted by the icy roads.

He checked the delivery app for the millionth time, the time remaining still stuck on “14 minutes”.

Was a button up with slacks too much for dinner? Christ, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been nervous before a date.

He wasn’t sure if it ever had happened before, because it didn’t happen.

He wasn’t afraid of shooting his shot with anyone. That cute guy at the gym? No hesitation. His bio lab partner sophomore year? Of course. The ex-girlfriend of the one fraternity brother he didn’t like? Yup. That one fraternity brother he really liked? Hell yeah.

There wasn’t a time that he he actually had to try to get someone to like him – his conquests weren’t really conquests. They’d always just kind of… fallen into his lap, for lack of a better phrase.

But he also couldn’t name a single person he’d “pined” for, whatever that meant. Spencer was the first girl that had slipped through his fingers – maybe this date would be closure. If she was down to fuck, maybe they’d get the weird three-year-long outstanding “what if?” question answered.

He filled the bucket with ice, neatly digging the champagne bottle’s base into it, even grabbing a rag to wipe the perspiration off the metal to buy some time.

A few more minutes passed. When he checked the app again, it’d changed to “13 minutes”, and Spencer was walking down his driveway.

Even on the grainy screen he could tell that whatever she had on was gonna drive him wild.

He strode towards the door, flinging it open to greet her.

“Hey, Spencer,” he grinned, opening his arms wide for a hug.

She matched his expression with a sweet smile of her own, slipping into his grip and molding herself against his body like she belonged there.

Fuck, she smelled delicious. Her hair, her lip gloss, her perfume – everything about her was delectable and made holding back all the more harder.

“Hey, Bryce,” she murmured, squeezing him. “It’s cold. Can we move inside?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Sorry about that,” he apologized, pulling back but keeping his palm on her lower back, shutting and locking the door behind him.

She walked into the main corridor, just kind of… observing. Taking everything in.

“Huh.”

“What do you mean, ‘huh’?” He asked, glancing down at her discreetly.

“It’s… nice. I can tell it’s your parents’ house.”

He chuckled, surprised. “Yeah, but what is that supposed to mean?”

“None of your personality is in this house. I figured it’d be brighter. Less marble, too,” she said, gesturing towards the decorations straight from a catalogue sprinkled throughout the house.

He couldn’t help that his parents insisted on flying out their personal interior designer to every house they owned. But it didn’t make it any less cringe worthy.

“No, you’re right,” he nodded, shrugging. “Can’t argue with that.”

He gently steered them towards the kitchen, his eyes flitting towards her as she scanned the house, a pleasant enough look on her face.

“What would you change about this house?” She asked, sliding onto one of the never-been-used barstools.

“Well, for one, I wouldn’t even have it in the first place,” he said, opening the cabinet next to the fridge, retrieving the champagne glasses.

“Really?”

“Really. If I had it my way, we would’ve never left Maui.”

She nodded, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Setting the glasses down in front of her, he stood on the other side of the counter, grabbing the bottle by its neck, unravelling the wrapping on the outside. “Hope this is alright. I just picked a bottle that looked expensive.”

“Expensive doesn’t mean better,” she said, eyes trained on the bottle, probably trying to read the label.

“You’re right, again. Two for two,” he joked, sliding the cork from the opening with a loud “pop”, the sound ricocheting off the walls and flooring.

After pouring it, he cocked his head her way, encouraging her to take the first sip.

She tipped the glass back, her nose scrunching after taking a deep swallow. “Mmmm. I would’ve settled for the shitty boxed wine I drank in college over this.”

He took a sip and shook his head, sticking his tongue out with a grimace. “Yeah, this tastes like ass.”

She snorted, covering her mouth as she laughed, making a breathy choking sound that he found oddly endearing.

“To answer your question, I’d probably paint the walls yellow. Hang up my grandpa’s old surfboard my dad passed down to me, if I can even find it. Maybe some movie posters,” he continued, gesturing towards the deadspace on the walls in the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I pictured, too,” she hummed, shivering after downing the rest of the glass.

“You don’t have to drink anymore. We agreed it tastes like shit,” he walked over to the cabinet, browsing the bottles, nearly empty. “I only have… a little bit of tequila and some rum.”

“I’ll take a rum and coke then,” she smiled gratefully, pushing the empty glass to the side.

While making the drinks, he checked his phone, hoping that the driver was close by. No luck – the time hadn’t shifted.

“So… when’s the delivery guy getting here?”

He could sense her behind him. When he turned to offer her a glass, he realized just how close she was.

She accepted the glass, craning her neck around him to look at his phone’s screen. “I knew it.”

“What? What’d you know?” He asked, unable to look anywhere but her plush lips, curved upwards into a grin.

She was life-ruiningly pretty. It was like God himself scanned Bryce’s brain and 3D copied his fantasies into the form of Spencer Matsuzaki, who was quite literally the girl of his dreams.

“I knew you weren’t a cooking type. I figured you were gonna get takeout, and I was right,” she pointed at his screen, the delivery app still open.

“Yeah, I was gonna try to impress you and pretend that I’d cooked everything but clearly that didn’t pan out,” he chuckled, peering down at her.

“That’s the oldest trick in the book, Bryce. I would’ve easily clocked that,” she shook her head, taking a quick sip of her drink, still standing close enough to him that he could feel her breath on him each time she laughed.

Before he dropped everything and propositioned her right there to take it to the living room, she turned on her heel and walked back towards her stool.

They sipped their drinks in silence, an air of awkwardness settling into the atmosphere – for the first time in, well, years they were completely and utterly alone.

She chewed her lip, swiping her thumb across the perspiration on the cup. “So…”

“So?”

“I feel like we have a lot of ground to cover.”

He nodded. “I guess the question now is ‘where do we start?’”

“We could just ask each other stuff and see how that goes.”

“I’ll go first – are you still single?”

A laugh ripped from her chest, bounding off the walls and floor, filling up the space with sound (one that was quickly becoming his favorite).

“That’s the first thing you ask me? After all these years?” She asked incredulously, shaking her head in awe.

He grinned. “Sounds like you’re avoiding the question.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Avoiding the question? Or you’re single?” He teased.

“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment, no.”

“Oh, at the moment. Seems like I’ve got some competition.”

Laughing, she tipped her head back to take a deep gulp. He watched as she did, a bit envious of the glass wrapped between her fingers and the rim caught between her lips.

She was a bit more timid when she drank the hot chocolate he offered her years before, cupping it with both hands and taking soft sips, smiling shyly, like being offered a drink on a date was something she should be grateful for.

The way she held herself was different. Before, it was like she was apologetic for taking up too much space, but this version of Spencer took the world by storm – like when she walked into the room, she claimed the space as her own before anyone else could tell her differently.

Whatever miniscule reservations he had about sleeping with her were out the window before she set her glass back down.

“I’m assuming you don’t have anyone at home waiting for you if you asked me that first,” she said, bluntly, chewing on a piece of ice.

“What makes you say that?” “Well you’re obviously gauging whether or not you want to fuck me tonight so I might as well be as upfront as you,” she shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

“Is that so?” He quirked a brow at her. “Would you count frequent hookups?”

“Nope. I’ve got those, too, but I don’t count ‘em.”

“So you turned out to be pretty wild, huh?”

She laughed. “I hope you realize how weird you sound. I’m not who I was at 18. Shit, and you barely even knew me then!”

He held his hands up in protest. “My bad.”

She tapped her nails on the counter, looking a bit conflicted. “No, it’s okay. Just a bit of a sensitive topic, I guess.”

“Parents, huh?”

“Yep. Don’t quite approve of who I am, even though I’m literally going to be studying to be a doctor,” she rolled her eyes. “I did get pretty wild, though. I mean, I had to get it out of my system before med school, you know?”

He shrugged. “Totally understandable.”

“Speaking of, why aren’t yours here? I figured I was going to accidentally run into them or something,” she mused, crunching on another ice cube.

He tried hiding his reaction, but he couldn’t help the way he tensed up at the mere mention of them. The thought of her bringing them up crossed his mind before, so thankfully he was able to keep it moving.

“Oh, they moved back to Hawaii a while ago. Been waiting to put this house on the market but it just didn’t seem like the right time.”

“So why aren’t you with them for the holidays?”

He stiffened, racking his brain for a believable lie. There was no fucking way he was baring his soul to the girl that just stepped back into his life.

She was the last good memory he had before everything went to shit, so he couldn’t break the illusion. Spencer was too good for this – maybe too good for him.

Court baggage was a heavy load to bear. Criminal baggage was even heavier. Lying to save face was the only way he could protect them both.

“Oh, it was just cheaper for me to stay here than fly back to Hawaii.”

She nodded, seemingly in agreeance, swirling the last bit of ice around her glass before tipping it back again. “S’good you get a little peace and quiet between semesters.”

“You have no idea,” he breathed, practically sighing in relief, thankful the crisis was averted.

“I do have a question, though,” she said, setting the glass down and pushing it away from her. “Why did you leave your number on my window sill?”

He leaned over the counter, bracing his arms against it. “So you did see it.”

“You’re lucky I found it! You could not have chosen a worse place to put it.”

“Well, you used to always walk out on your balcony so I thought it’d be safe.”

She pursed her lips, seemingly holding back a smile. “You remember that?”

“Yeah, of course. Why didn’t you, you know, use the number, though?” He asked, teasing.

Her mouth popped open, looking almost offended by his words. “Oh my god, you think if I had your number we still wouldn’t have talked for three years?”

“When you put it that way, I guess it doesn’t make sense,” he laughed, taking a swig of his drink.

“No, but I can’t get over that – you thought this entire time that I just didn’t try to contact you? Bryce, you offered to kiss me before literally disappearing into the night – you thought I wouldn’t have at least, you know, tried following up on that?” Spencer was giggling in between her words, barely able to get it out of her system.

“Yeah, well, you think I didn’t want to follow up on the kiss either? I’m the one who offered!”

They were cutting up, both leaning over the counter, folded over in laughter. They’d shifted closer as they got more comfortable with each other, their arms nearly grazing each others’ over the cold granite.

God, she was so beautiful. Everything he felt when he met her three years ago was pretty much amplified. He had it bad for her.

When she noticed how close they were, her eyes flitted to his lips, tongue darting out to wet her own.

“You wanna cash in on that now? I heard that ‘Bryce Lahela Kiss Coupons’ never expire,” he said, voice low, reaching out to swipe the pad of his thumb over her chin.

“Bryce…” she said, closing her eyes, before leaning back to put some distance between them. “We have to lay some ground rules first.”

He sighed, standing up at his full height. “Okay, shoot.”

“I’m not trying to go all analytical on you, but we have to get this out of the way first. Tell me where your top three med schools are.”

A snort escaped him before he could stop himself. “What, do you only fuck guys that go to –”

“– And girls –”

“And girls – that go to John Hopkins?” He asked, teasing. “Me, too, by the way.”

She shook her head, ignoring his joke. “Nope. Just tell me.”

“Well, I’m looking at California, New York, and Chicago. What about you?”

“Ohio, Virginia, and Washington.”

The pieces fell into place for him. “Damn, you were playing chess and I was playing checkers, huh?”

She laughed. “No, no, I was just curious. I didn’t think we’d get as far as relationship talk, but I figured after everything we’d been through, we might as well discuss it, you know?”

“So that means this is a one-and-done type deal.”

“I guess so,” she said, scratching at her neck. “I’ve made out with plenty of people before and forgotten it, so if you want to just see how we feel, I’m down.”

“Oh, I think you’ll remember this for a while,” he said, stretching across the counter to gently cup her face in both hands, pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

Their first kiss was unlike no other. What’d started out as an offhanded joke to relieve three years worth of tension quickly morphed into desperate grabbing of clothes, heavy pants, and even heavier tension crackling like a fire between them.

She fisted his collar, dragging him to her over the counter, kneeling on her bar stool and pushing herself closer and closer to him.

Bryce had his share of sloppy bar makeouts, passionate kisses amidst sex – even sweet domestic kisses during mundane tasks. But this kiss? Somehow it was a bit of everything rolled into one.

They parted pretty abruptly when he elbowed her empty champagne glass and it clattered against the counter.

“Shit,” he cursed, pulling back just a hair to check the damage.

When he turned back, she was still holding him, staring at him, a look on her face that he hadn’t seen before.

“That was…” her lids fluttered, tongue darting out to lick her lips – like she was savoring his taste.

“Really good.”

She nodded. “Insanely good.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Is it what you were dreaming of?” He teased, but there was a hint of sincerity to it.

She nodded again, her grip tightening on his collar. “I’m a little scared at how much I enjoyed it.”

“Scared? Why?” He murmured, stroking his thumb against her cheek in comfort.

“Well… this can’t happen,” she gestured between them.

“It doesn’t have to happen. We can pretend like the kiss never did, just like you said. I don’t mind,” he shrugged.

“But… what if I want it to?”

He couldn’t conceal the smirk tugging at his lips. “You wanna take this upstairs?”

She tried holding back a smile. “Maybe.”

“Well, you can think about it over dinner, whenever that gets here.”

The driver took about twenty minutes, and eating took them twenty more. Small talk was managed, jokes were cracked, but there was an unmistakable feeling in the air that both of them could sense.

Bryce was no stranger to sexual tension. Hell, he thrived on it.

Making a cute girl blush? Exhilarating. Getting a guy at the bar fund his hangover? Incredible. Those few minutes between knowing you’re going to fuck someone and actually fucking them? Couldn’t get enough.

The minute their plates were cleared, she took his hand and led him upstairs, throwing glances back at him like if she let go for a second he’d disappear.

As much as he just wanted to fool around, he couldn’t help but pocket the small details for later, just in case he decided it was alright to get emotionally invested. Despite feeling like he had a hold on the situation, he definitely didn’t.

He was a bit delusional in thinking he wasn’t already falling for her the way she was for him.

––––

[part 1.5 coming soon]

____

They’d been curled up in bed for nearly an hour and a half, just talking, every once in a while pulling the other in for another kiss that led to roaming hands.

In another life, if they’d both lived in that town and grew up there, there was no doubt they’d be best friends. High school sweethearts, even.

But she knew that whatever daydreams she’d conjured up could never be reality.

This was a one-time thing. They both knew that.

After a lull in conversation she slipped out of bed, gathering her clothes and tossing them onto the bed.

“You leaving?” He asked, sitting up.

“Uh, yeah. I think I need to get going. I’ve still got a curfew,” she shrugged, making a hand motion like she was pulling the trigger.

“Still have one? Damn, that sucks. Am I gonna get to see you tomorrow?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

He remembered her curfew?

She snapped her bra back in place, avoiding his eye as she slid on her straps. “I, um, have to leave.”

“I thought you were staying through the weekend?” He sounded taken aback, like he thought he had more time.

She slipped her underwear and pants on fast. “I have a long drive ahead of me and I kinda wanted a night to breathe before I tour and interview, you know?”

He was silent. She threw her sweater on before daring a glance at him. His eyes were trained on the mattress, refusing to look at her.

“Bryce,” she called, but he shook his head.

She sat on the mattress, tipping his chin up with her finger. “What’s wrong?”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, sighing. “It’s stupid.”

“C’mon, it’s not stupid. Tell me.”

“I’m kinda regretting this being a one-time thing.”

She raked his hair back, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I am, too.”

He met her eyes again, brows furrowed. “You are?”

She nodded. “I like you. A lot.”

“So what’s stopping us? We can make it work if we try –”

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, looking at the ground. “I don’t know if we can.”

“Why not?”

“The distance, first of all. And we’re going to be in different programs in different states, so there’s no way we can fully commit to school and our future if we’re trying to start a relationship and maintain it –”

“Spencer, you think I’m gonna give up that easily after all this time? I just got you back,” he said, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.

“This isn’t giving up, Bryce… this is… practical. Rational,” she added, leaning into his touch. “The right thing to do.”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“I know, but… I think it’s easier to move on now rather than later when we’re in too deep,” she gulped, trying to soothe the lump forming in her throat.

She knew this wasn’t gonna be easy, but she figured it’d be easier than falling for him over phone calls and video chats and sweet good morning texts and the inevitable breakup that came after.

“You sure we’re not already in it?” He asked, underneath his breath, gaze flitting to her lips.

She rolled her lips, shaking her head, trying to mask her wobbling chin.

“If you don’t want to get hurt, I get it, but I need you to know that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I met you,” he said, cupping her cheeks with both hands. “And – and I never thought I’d see you again, so I don’t want to let you go without at least, you know, trying to fight for you.”

He brought her in for a deep kiss, seemingly trying to plead his case with his touch.

“Maybe we should just go our separate ways and pretend tonight didn’t happen. It might be less difficult,” she murmured after he pulled away.

“None of this will be easy for us, Spence,” he pressed their foreheads together, both of them closing their eyes.

“Honestly, I want nothing more than to be with you. I want you so badly, but I’ve got so many commitments and my career and I can’t just throw my responsibilities out the window, because I know I would – that’s what scares me,” she whispered, voice cracking.

“You’re right. I hate that you’re right.”

––––

When she slipped back into her room after saying a quick goodnight to her parents, she curled up in her bed and cried.

She didn’t want to cry – it was like her body wouldn’t let her hold it in any longer. The sobs wracked her body as if personified guilt had grabbed her by the shoulders, dug its fingers into her skin, and shook her the tears from her.

Hours later, she woke up in the middle of the night, face still puffy and irritated. As she stood up to go throw cool water on her face, she noticed something taped to her window.

His number and socials were listed in a neat bulleted list, and below it, he’d scrawled a simple note:

“If we meet again.”

––––

#playchoices #bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #my fic #jade writes choices fics

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hangingslothcentral · 5 years ago

Text

sirius black was done dirty and i’m mad about it

So you might have seen my big post about how dumbledore is a scumbag for his treatment of Harry, but like, Sirius was done so dirty by this motherfucker I cannot even. It makes me genuinely furious.

Think about it for a minute; Sirius is this wildcard kid. He’s raised in an abusive household, which he eventually flees, and ends up living with the Potters. His parents, in addition to being abusive, are also wizardnazi sympathisers, and Sirius’ younger brother, Reggie, grows up to actually BE a wizardnazi (he ends up being a crucial thorn in Voldy’s side and turns coats later, but he has to have actually joined in earnest).

Sirius is not a quiet, broken little thing in a straightforward sense. He’s a particular flavour of damaged which results in him being loud and brash. He simultaneously loves and loathes himself; he prances around like a show pony and kisses anything that breathes but ultimately beleives himself to be unlovable. He acts fast and rash because he doesn’t have a strong handle on his emotions. He doesn’t understand what healthy love and affection looks like, and often he’s mean to people because keeping them at arms length is less scary than letting them in. When he does allow people to get close, he is fierce, frightening and irrationally protective of them. Stand between Sirius and his friends and he will rip you limb from limb. Because he doesn’t really value himself or his own life, he’s way more likely to throw himself into dangerous situations, either because it allows him to feel fear in a way he can control, or because he genuinely doesn’t care if he lives or dies but DOES care if his people get hurt. Probably most of the time it’s a combination of the two. This is why his dog animagus form is so appropriate for him, imo; he’s not loyal and obedient like a labrador, he’s protective, he’s pack-driven, and he will protect his pack At All Costs.

Dumbledore has watched this kid roll in from the Black family and get sorted into Gryffindor. Dumbledore is a smart guy; he knows this will complicate Sirius’ relationships with his family. No biggy, really. Dumbledore has other shit going on; Voldybaldy is gaining power with frightening speed and ability. Every day the war gets closer and closer to Dumbledore and the school he has chosen as his stomping ground. Sirius getting ostracised is probably a good thing from a distance; the likelihood of him becoming a Death Eater is slimmer.

As he progresses through school Sirius is getting to be more and more of a nuissance. He, James, and Peter are in and out of detention all the time. He notices Sirius is becoming preoccupied with Remus Lupin; this could be a good thing in two respects. Remus is even less likely to end up outside of society if he has social ties, and you hoped him to make friends at school for this reason when you fought for his place. Sirius and James might even shake Remus out of his shell a little bit, maybe direct him towards being able to control himself when in wolf form, the way Fenrir Greyback can. Only this wolf would be on your side (maybe I should also write a ‘How Dumbledoodoo fucked over my boy Remus’ too). Dumbledore likely also hopes, as Remus assumes, that Remus will be a guiding light to his new friends and perhaps curb some of their less desirable habits. But the shenanigans continue, only more on the DL, more efficiently. Remus and Sirius become closer than Dumbledore had anticipated because he has a ton of internalised homophobia and assumes straight until proven queer and it won’t have occured to him that people he did not previously think of as particularly important have so complex a set of inner lives as to be creatures that fall for each other.

The extent to which Sirius will do anything, a n y t h i n g, to strike back at those who have hurt the people he loves becomes clear in his fifth year when he sends Snape into the tunnel under the whomping willow after Remus. Can you imagine how furious Remus would be with him for using him that way? Can you imagine how hurt he would be that Sirius did not even consider how he would feel if he killed someone? None of this would have occured to Sirius. He wanted to see Snape torn to shreds. Wanted him hurt, dead. Wanted him to suffer. How dare Snape insult his Moony? Did Snape think it was cool and fun for this to happen to him every month? Did he think it was a fun little puzzle to solve? Remus is not a puzzle and he is suffering, but he’s not meek and vulnerable, and he can stand up for himself. The obvious answer to this problem, to Sirius, is let Snape solve the riddle and then let Remus rip his head off. Easy, straightforward.

Thank god James went to Dumbledore and explained what was going on because had Remus actually killed or even hurt Snape in his wolf form, he may never have forgiven Sirus for facilitating it. As soon as this is pointed out to Sirius, it is plain to everyone there that he intensely wishes he could take his actions back but there is nothing he could do. And that moment where the egg cracks, where he realises he almost fucked up in a way that would mean one of the people he cares about most in the universe would never speak to him again, that would have happened when Dumbledore called him, James, Snape and Peter to his office after Snape’s life had been saved. Dumbledore would have watched these emotions blossom on Sirius’ face (maybe even sneaking a peak at his thoughts whilst he was at it). He would have known the intensity of Sirius’ feelings, his regret, and the reasoning as to why this unfolded. Dumbledore is not a stupid man. This is why he allows them all to return to school life as normal immediately afterwards with no more serious repurcussions than a slap on the wrist.

So at this point Dumbledore knows - does not suspect, k n o w s - that Sirius is reckless, loyal to a fault, and would go to any lengths imaginable to defend his friends, and their honour he probably also knows now Sirius is madly in love with Remus but that’s neither here not there even if it is important to note.

Time goes on, they finish school and become members of the Order. It’s not confirmed in the books but it’s fairly safe to assume from context that to be a member of the Order you have to have Dumbledore’s trust, in some capacity. In practice, that means Dumbledore reckons he’s got something on you and when it comes down to it, he’s the one holding the cards so you’d have to side with him for your own benefit. He’s earned James, Peter has never been a particular problem, Sirius owes Dumbledore his honour, and Remus would have had literally no opportunities in life were it not for Dumbledore. Thus, a loyal set of additions to his little wizardnazi fighting team.

The prophecy happens, James and Lily’s son is implicated, you know this part of the story. And they are killed by Voldy and Harry is packed off to the Dursleys to become an obscurial and the rest is history. But Sirius. S I R I U S. Sirius ends up in Azkaban for murdering Peter and a bunch of muggles. Yeah, surface level, to an outside observer, maybe this would make sense. Sirius was always a troublemaker, he came from a pureblood, traditionally Slytherin family with ties to voldemort. It would make sense it was him that betrayed Lily and James and also that he would kill Peter for challenging him. IF you only had a very scant awareness of Sirius Black, which we have already established, Dumbledore does not. He knows quite a lot about Sirius, actually. Has a firm grip on what he’s like.

See, Dumbledore never offers to be James and Lily’s secret keeper. It wouldn’t matter that he was an obvious choice, even if that was the reason he gave them. Voldemort is scared of Dumbledore. He would not have dared attack him, and besides, that is just not how the Fidelius Charm operates. Let it be one of the friends, and Dumbledore assumes James and Lily would choose Sirius because it’s Sirius, and he probably would have nudged them in that direction. Why? Because Sirius is rash and loyal to a T. If anyone is going to get killed, weaken the Fidelius charm by having a bunch of people as secret keepers instead of just one because he dies, it’s Sirius. Oh he’d go down in a blaze of righteous glory. But Sirius, by now, has learnt this about himself. He knows. So he tells James and Lily to choose Peter instead.

Dumbledore may not have explicitly known this, but he would have known that Sirius would have died before he betrayed his friends. He was probably actually counting on it. Knowing he was at the wreckage at the Potter’s home in Godric’s Hollow would have, should have been enough for Dumbledore to add up these pieces of information and infer that it was not Sirius who was secret keeper. The Fidelius Charm did not break; Peter gave the secret up. And when Sirius went to confront Peter, if Dumbledore had not yet worked this out, he should have guessed at this point what had happened, because of how Sirius was, what he’d have felt about Peter betraying Lily and James.

Anyway, none of the guessing really matters because had Dumbledore even visited Sirius just once, before his trial or after, he’d have heard the full story and put the pieces together. But he didn’t. He didn’t bother because Sirius wasn’t directly important to his plans. Because Sirius was supposed to die and weaken the charm anyway so Dumbledore could have his baby martyr. It didn’t go exactly as Dumbledore had thought, but it worked out mostly to his devices, so why bother asking Sirius for the details? Who cares if he is wrongfully imprisoned? He was always a pain in the neck anyway.

I could go on but this is actually really long now hahahahahaaaaaaaa. yes so consider this pt. 2 of why dumbledore is the worst.

#hp theory #sirius black #harry potter #dumbledore #sirius #dumbledore is the worst #harry potter theory #harry potter imagine #wolfstar #my poor baby boy

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a-second-hand-sorrow · 5 years ago

Text

Paper Rings (Richie Tozier X Reader)

WC: 3952

Warnings: Language, kinda sexual stuff at one point, alcohol, weed, tiny bit of angst at the end but not much

Summary: Y/N and Richie’s relationship through ‘Paper Rings’

A/N: The bitch is back y’all. I apologise for not having written in about 8 billion years, but I’m back. I hope you guys enjoy this, bc I really love it.

The moon is high

Like your friends were the night that we first met

2009

Y/N had never been a fan of parties. Ever since high school she would always be the one to stay home and re-watch her favourite movies instead of going to parties. Unfortunately, now that she had a career in comedy writing she was being dragged to parties left, right and centre, and she hated them all.

“Mulaney, please tell me why I’m coming to this thing? I’m going to miss Seinfeld and you know I live for that shit.” Y/N whined, tugging on the sleeve of John’s jacket while he rolled his eyes.

“They’ve been playing episodes of that show every night since 1989, and you’ve watched each one about three times over, Y/N. I think you can afford to miss one night’s rerun.” John said, causing Y/N to let out a groan of protest.

“It’s about the habits, John. The habits.” Y/N mumbled, and John shook his head like an irritated parent.

“You’re coming with me to this party, Y/N. I’ve heard they’ve got this bigshot comic coming in from LA so just think about that potential opportunity before you complain again.” John said, and Y/N narrowed her eyes before caving, causing her friend to give her a victorious smile.

The pair walked into the crowded club, and Y/N immediately grimaced at the loud music and the overwhelming stench of alcohol and weed. “Real classy joint, huh?” She muttered to John, who simply chuckled in response.

“I’m gonna go get a drink, and I want you to mingle. Have some fun Y/N. Let loose for once!” John said, gripping Y/N’s shoulders. She opened her mouth to protest but John quickly snuck away before she could say anything.

Y/N pouted, trying to navigate her way through the bustling club. Eventually she found her way to a booth where she saw a group of people, including one manwho was strangely familiar to her. She heard him laughing and she found herself beginning to laugh as well as she walked up to the booth.

“Hey sweetheart! You lost?” One of the men at the booth called, and suddenly all of their eyes were directed towards her. Y/N let out a nervous laugh and shook her head, a slight smile on her face.

“My friend ditched me. He told me I needed to mingle and have some fun, his words not mine.” Y/N said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she made brief eye contact with the oddly familiar man. He had a head of wild black hair and was wearing glasses so big they nearly covered his face.

“Well, uh, you can come sit with us if you want.” The man spoke, a kind smile on his face as he looked up at her, and she knew she was done for.

“Sounds good.” Y/N said, laughing lightly as she watched the men scoot along so there was enough room in the booth for her.

“I’m Y/N by the way, in case you were wondering.” Y/N said once she had settled herself next to the very kind, very attractive man in the glasses.

“I’m Richie Tozier, and this is Carol Feeny and Steve Covall.” As soon as Y/N heard his name she smiled, not really thinking as she politely shook hands with Carol and Steve.

“I’m just gonna put it out here now, Steve and I are a bit high so sorry in advance if we do or say anything weird.” Carol said, and Y/N gave her a thumbs up before shooting Richie a confused look. He let out a laugh at her expression, and Y/N felt her stomach fill with butterflies.

“This is like a normal Saturday night for them, I just tagged along because they’re my friends and I don’t want them dying or whatever.” Richie said, raising his voice slightly due to the loud music.

“Glad to know. Well, here’s to getting to know strangers at a wild party.” Y/N said, lifting her drink as Richie did the same. They tapped their glasses together and Y/N couldn’t shake the giddy feeling that washed over her as soon as their eyes met.

Oh yeah, she was well and truly fucked.

Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet

Now I've read all of the books beside your bed

2009

“John Edmund Mulaney, I need your goddamn help.” Y/N said, busting his bedroom door open and pulling the covers off his bed. John groaned, giving the girl a dirty look as she stood in his doorway, a determined look on her face.

“What the hell do you want Y/L/N? It is Sunday morning and I am too hungover to breathe.” John grumbled, rolling over reluctantly as Y/N sat down cross-legged next to him on his bed.

“I met this guy at the party last night and I forgot to online stalk him last night so I need to do it now.” Y/N said, and John sighed as he sat up, rubbing his eyes before turning his attention to Y/N.

“Did you at least get his name?” John said and Y/N nodded eagerly, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

“Yeah, he said his name was Richie Tozier.” Y/N said and John’s eyes widened as he sat up straighter, looking at Y/N with shock.

“Y/N do you have any idea who that is?” John said, and Y/N shook her head, giving him a confused look.

“Remember when I said there was going to be some bigshot comic from LA at the party last night? Well that’s him! Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier! He’s massive right now.” John said, snatching Y/N’s phone and plugging his name into Google as the wheels turned in Y/N’s head.

“Is this him?” John said, pulling up a photo of him to show to Y/N. She nodded, the pieces starting to fall into place. John let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Y/N how the hell are you a comedy writer who doesn’t know one of the biggest names in comedy right now? Honestly woman.” John said, handing Y/N her phone back. Y/N took it graciously and she immediately found Richie’s social media accounts and followed him on Facebook and Twitter.

“What can I say, I’m ridiculously stupid Johnny. I’ll go make you some breakfast as a thank you for making it very easy to stalk this guy.” Y/N said, ruffling John’s hair before leaving his bedroom with a smile on her face.

For the rest of the day Y/N was deep in Richie’s social media feeds, and it was so bad that she found a photo of his bedside table on Twitter and immediately found and then bought all the books that were on the table so she could read them.

As she was in bed that night watching a video from one of Richie’s specials on YouTube, she saw two notifications pop up on her phone.

Richie Tozier is now friends with you on Facebook

@TrashmouthTozier is following you on Twitter

The wine is cold

Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street

Cat and mouse for a month or two or three

Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

2009

“Y/N, John, so good to see you guys! Welcome to Saturday Night Live!” It was Y/N and John’s first day as writers for Saturday Night Live and they were both panicking internally as they were being shown around the studio.

They were shown writing rooms and all the relevant things they needed to know, before their guide told them one final piece of information. “Oh, and the first host you’ll be working with is Richie Tozier. He’ll be here in about 20 minutes to discuss sketch ideas with the team, you guys included. Good luck!”

Upon hearing this crucial fact Y/N’s eyes widened as she turned to John, who instead was sporting a smug look. “Holy shit, did she just say Richie Tozier? As in Richie from that party a few weeks ago Tozier? As in the guy I am so very into but won’t talk to because I get really anxious?” Y/N was rambling, her words and her breathing getting faster and faster as she started to pace back and forth.

“Yes, the very same guy.” John said, sitting down at a table as Y/N continued pacing.

“Fuck! Fuckity fuck fuck fuck! What do I do John? He’s a comic genius and I am just a lowly rat writer.” Y/N said, starting to feel light headed from all the hyperventilation. John sighed, standing up and marching over to his friend. He placed his hands on her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks.

“Y/N, calm down. You just have to keep it professional for now, and then at the after party on Saturday night or the very early hours of Sunday morning you can get piss drunk and hopefully sleep with him.” John said with a straight face, and Y/N let out a huff. She went to respond, but a familiar voice stopped her.

“Hey, I wouldn’t happen to be interrupting something, would I?” At the sound of Richie’s voice Y/N spun around, knocking John’s arms off her shoulders in the process.

“Nope, not at all. You’re all good, Richie.” Y/N said, internally cursing for being so casual with him. Richie just gave John a wave before stepping into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” John said, and Richie obliged. As he walked around to the table he passed by Y/N, stopping to whisper something in her ear.

“It’s really good to see you again Y/N. I’ve missed you.”

2015

Y/N felt so comfortable in Richie’s arms, and in her mind there was absolutely nothing like it. They always fell asleep the same way; with Y/N’s head on Richie’s chest, her arm slung across his torso and his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

Some nights Y/N would wake up at around one or two in the morning and just watch Richie for a while before going back to sleep. Tonight was one of those nights.

She woke slowly, the warmth of Richie’s body almost lulling her back to sleep as she opened her eyes. She took in a deep breath, shifting slightly so she could gaze at Richie without waking him up.

He always looked so peaceful when he slept. It was something Y/N had noted since the night they first slept together, and she never got tired of seeing her always energetic husband at peace.

Y/N was almost mesmerised by the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and she couldn’t help but lift a hand to his face and gently stroke his cheek. She felt his body stir slightly, and a gentle smile appeared on her face when she heard him let out a little groan.

His eyes opened and he smiled almost immediately when he saw Y/N’s eyes staring back at him. “Y/N, why are you up?” He asked, his voice deep and groggy with sleep.

“Just like watching you sleep, sue me.” Y/N said softly, pecking his lips before resting her forehead against his.

“You’re a creep, wifey dearest. I love it. I love you.” Richie mumbled, kissing Y/N lightly in between his words. Y/N let out a giggle before dropping her head into the crook of his neck.

“I love you too, but you should really get some sleep mister. I’ll still be here when you wake up, don’t worry.” Y/N said, melting a little when Richie’s hand came to rest over hers on his cheek.

“Goodnight Y/N/N.”

“Night Rich.”

Kiss me once 'cause you know I had a long night

Kiss me twice 'cause it's gonna be alright

Three times 'cause I waited my whole life

2011

Y/N had been working on this sketch for about eight hours and had gotten practically nowhere. She was almost tearing her hair out, having gone through at least ten cups of coffee in the last hour alone. Richie was performing somewhere downtown and John was out with his girlfriend, meaning that Y/N was tired and alone in her apartment.

She checked her phone to see that it was now verging on one o’clock, and she groaned loudly, both at the time and her lack of progress. She went to put her phone down before seeing a text from Richie, causing her heart to skip a beat.

Trash Boy: I’m outside with Chinese food, shitty coffee and the potential for a lot of cuddles. Please let me in. I nearly dropped a chow mein writing this.

She let out a relieved laugh, a smile blooming on her face as she raced to the door, pulling it open to reveal her beautiful, wonderful boyfriend. Richie seemed to be drowning in bags so Y/N ushered him in quickly, shutting the door as he unloaded all his bags onto her dining room table.

“Ok, so I’ve got some fried rice and what I think is satay beef, honestly I have no.” Richie’s words were cut off by Y/N grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him into a deep kiss. His hands quickly found her waist while hers found his hair. When they pulled apart they were breathing heavily, and Y/N let out a chuckle when she noticed his glasses had fogged up slightly.

“Not that I’m complaining but was there any reason for that?” Richie asked once he had caught his breath, and Y/N chuckled as her head found its way into the crook of Richie’s neck.

“I’ve had a super long night and then you brought me the food and the coffee even after your show and I just fucking love you so much.” Y/N admitted, and Richie’s eyes widened slightly at the confession. It was the first time either of them had said those words, and it made Y/N look up at her boyfriend with trepidation in her eyes.

“Rich I’m sorry, I hope this isn’t too soon or anything, but I really do love you.” Y/N said, her voice a lot meeker than it was previously. Richie’s look of surprised melted into one of pure adoration, and he simply leaned down and kissed Y/N, long and hard.

“I love you too Y/N, so fucking much.”

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want

In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams

Oh, you're the one I want

2015

“Babe, have you seen my good blazer? The grey one!” Richie called out from across the house, causing Y/N to groan in annoyance.

“Rich I told you it was hanging up in your closet next to your wedding suit, and if you tell me you can’t remember which one that is, so help me God you will get my shoe so far up your ass it isn’t funny.” Y/N hollered, putting her earrings in with a little more force than usual.

“Found it, thanks babe!” Richie called back, and Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately as she straightened the skirt of her dress. Tonight was the taping of Richie’s most recent special for Netflix, and he wanted Y/N to be there in the front row.

She looked her outfit over once more before catching a glimpse of the framed photo that sat just outside their bathroom. It was of her and Richie kissing with a disgruntled John next to them, and she gave it a tender look before making her way over to their bedroom, where Richie was trying to psych himself up for the show. Y/N wrapped her arms around his middle from behind, resting her head on his shoulder and pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

“You nervous Rich?” She asked and he nodded immediately, taking in a deep but shaky breath. Y/N moved so she was now standing in front of him, her arms still resting securely around his waist.

“You shouldn’t be, honestly. You are the funniest man I have ever met, and my best friend is John Mulaney. I have so much confidence that you will go out there and make that stage your bitch, Richie, and I will be sitting there right in the front row, watching it all. I couldn’t be prouder of my amazing husband.” Y/N said, lifting one hand to cup her husband’s cheek. She noticed a tear begin to fall and she gently swiped it away, sending him a genuine smile.

“How did I get so lucky?” Richie said, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. She let out a soft laugh as she hugged him back, rubbing her hands up and down his back.

“Honestly Rich, you could’ve proposed to me with a paper ring and I would’ve said yes, and you know how much I like my shiny stuff.” Y/N said, and Richie burst out laughing, pressing a kiss to his wife’s temple.

“Come on, woman of my dreams. We have somewhere to be.”

In the winter, in the icy outdoor pool

When you jumped in first, I went in too

I'm with you even if it makes me blue

2013

“Welcome to the Christmas extravaganza, Toziers.” John said, ushering Y/N and Richie into the warm house. Every inch of spare space was covered in Christmas decorations, and the scent of gingerbread and mulled wine was thick in the air.

“God this is amazing. I’m assuming Anna was responsible for most of the decoration?” Y/N asked, causing John to pull a rather insulted face that made both Y/N and Richie chuckle.

“I’m hurt, however you would be right there. She’s always been more talented in the design aspect of things. Did you guys want a drink?” John said, and the couple nodded quickly. John laughed to himself as he went to fetch three glasses of mulled wine.

The amount of mulled wine consumed increased greatly over the course of the night, and by about ten o’clock John, Y/N and Richie were well past it. “Hey Y/N, how much do you bet that Richie will jump in the pool?” John asked, and Y/N let out a laugh of disbelief.

“There’s no way in hell he’d do that. It’s fucking freezing, right Rich?” Y/N said, turning to look at her husband. Instead of the shock and repulsion she thought she’d see on his face, Y/N instead saw a look of contemplation and deep thought.

“How much are you offering, Mulaney?” Richie said, and John’s face split into a Cheshire cat grin, much to Y/N’s horror. “I’ll give you fifty if you do it, one hundred if Y/N does it as well.” John said, and Y/N’s eyes went wide as Richie stood straight up, already shedding his jacket and outer shirt.

“Come on Y/N, it’ll be fun!” Richie said, taking his shoes and base shirt off before unbuckling his belt. Y/N let out a whine of protest, watching as her piss drunk husband stumbled towards the freezing outdoor pool.

“Richie, don’t you dare!” Y/N shouted, but it was too late. Richie had already jumped in, and even though she knew she’d regret it, she jumped in too.

Which takes me back

To the color that we painted your brother's wall

Honey, without all the exes, fights, and flaws

We wouldn't be standing here so tall

2010

Painting was hard work, Y/N had come to realise. When her brother said he needed one of the walls in his apartment re-painted, Y/N had volunteered without even thinking, which is what caused her and Richie to be spending a precious Sunday covered in sweat and blue paint.

“I can’t believe that instead of staying at home and fucking each other senseless, we are painting your brother’s feature wall. Fantastic.” Richie grumbled, painting the wall with much more aggression than necessary.

“Easy Tozier. I’m doing this as a favour for my brother, and if you keep complaining there will be no chance of us fucking each other senseless at all today or tonight.” Y/N said sharply, and Richie gave her an annoyed look, sticking his tongue out as a childish gesture of irritation.

The painting took quite a bit of time, with Y/N and Richie leaving the apartment at around four o’clock. When they got home Y/N was straight in the shower, itching to get the paint off of her skin.

“You’d better not be having a shower without me, you minx! Wait for me!”

I want to drive away with you

I want your complications too

I want your dreary Mondays

Wrap your arms around me, baby boy

2016

“Mrs Tozier?” Y/N walked up to the young stagehand who had called her name, a kind smile on her face.

“Please, just call me Y/N honey. What do you need?” She said, gently touching the young girl’s arm.

“Its your husband. He’s really not feeling well, and he asked for me to get you.” Y/N’s face dropped slightly upon hearing that news, but she kept up the smiling front with a little less sincerity than before.

“Where is he?” Y/N asked, and the stagehand lead her through the back corridors of the venues until she came to a fire exit door.

“He’s out there.” The girl said before leaving, and Y/N felt confused as she opened the door, though the confusion turned into concern and worry as soon as she saw Richie. He had clearly just vomited and he was shaking like a leaf.

“Shit, Richie. What happened?” Y/N asked, rushing forward to wrap her arms around the man she loved. His arms snaked around her waist almost instinctively, and she felt him rest his head against her chest.

“I got a call from home… from Derry.” He breathed out, and Y/N felt all her muscles tense up. She knew Richie didn’t talk much about his childhood or his hometown, but from what she gathered it was not a good place, and clearly the phone call must have brought some stuff up in Richie.

“Shit. Are you good, babe?” Y/N asked and Richie let out a shaky breath, lifting his head so he could look up at her.

“I don’t know. I was fine but when I heard Mike tell me he needed me to come back to Derry I just lost it.” Richie said, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Ok well do you still wanna do the show or not, because you don’t really look that red hot, Rich.” Y/N said with concern evident in her voice.

“No, I’ll still do the show, but we have to go back to Derry as soon as we can after it, ok?” Richie said, an almost pleading tone in his voice. Y/N nodded, kissing the top of his head.

“All of your problems, all of your shit, you can share it with me. For better or worse, right? And if you need it, I will drive away with you at a moment’s notice. I love you Richie Tozier. Always have and always will.” Y/N said, and when she met Richie’s gaze she was almost overwhelmed with the sheer emotion in his eyes.

“I will never love someone as much as I love you, Y/N Tozier. You’re my world. Now let go of me so I can go do some kickass comedy.” Y/N chuckled at Richie’s words and obliged, letting go of her husband.

Though neither one of the couple knew what their trip to Derry would have in stall for them, the sheer love between them was enough for them.

#it #it 2019 #it chapter 2 #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #bill hader #paper rings #paper rings universe

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kitsoa · 5 years ago

Text

KHUX Theory Confirmations

Oh my god so much so much

Alright let me lay out my original theories all in one pretty picture. I subscribe hard to @kingdomheartsnyctophiliac‘s Ava=Darkness theory-- so much that I’m down with the next logical conclusion that Ava killed Strelitzia to make room for Brain, her man on the inside. Ava as the traitor, disguising herself as darkness, basically trying to hatch a coup against the very role MoM had her follow is a great twist and it is still alive.

Brain’s got the Book

Now in my theorizing I believed the reason why Ava would off Strel is because maybe, Strel was the one circled in red that MoM assigned the BoP to. Knowing the book was selectively granted, the fact that the verified impostor in the group has it means it might have been the very motive as to why her. Now as a reminder, the timeline of this switcheroo is very fast but there is still ample time for this to go down.

Timeline:

Ava carries out her duty and selects the union leaders

Ava confronts Luxu and learns an unknown truth. She is the traitor. The bell rings and the keykids prepare for war

Strel panics and tries to find player hoping its not too late, walks into the store room.

Strel is killed. The Switcheroo is put into action.

War happens and the Dandelion’s retreat.

According to my reasoning Ava changes gears only after talking to Luxu and triggering the war. If she is the culprit then pre-bell Ava can blindly follow the role and pick Strel and post-bell Ava can then basically back peddle that act in order to sabotage MoM’s goal.

Now I insist that Brain is pretty innocent in all this. Regardless of his level of knowledge of Ava’s plot he did not dirty his hands with Strel’s blood. There’s a good potential he doesn’t understand what brought him to the seat he sits on at all. Furthermore the information they are currently discovering mainly pertains to MoM’s part of the plot. Aka-The orchestration to put them in a digital bunker-- not so much Ava’s counter plot with Strel’s death. He says he’s not sure how much Ava even knew of the (MoM’s) plot and that could be very true. From this we can assume Ava didn’t actually tell Brain much, but simply entrusted him with the task to change/destroy the program. The exact end that program was aiming towards is something Ava perhaps did not fully realize.

MoM’s goal.

So this update really helped with my theorized motives here. So I had laid out in a recent post that the entire X, Unchained, Ux stuff appears like a series of experimental trials. The fact that MoM reveals that this war has been ongoing is extremely enlightening. Because that means that MoM’s plot is serving some kind of end in exacerbation of this cycle. That this is something he either wants to discover why the war inevitably occurs or he wants to discover the means to finally prevent the war from inevitably happening again (be that by eliminating the darkness that persists alongside the light or whatnot). Ergo the idea of the MoM creating this closed off ‘bunker’ where he controls the variables makes a ton of sense (and Lauriam even calls it a cage). He’s trying to get to the bottom of it or change it.

The stuff about darkness changing shape and persisting in the hearts of man is interesting in the interpretation of the cosmology of kh but ultimately I think it’s fancy talk for the darkness of human nature. It sheds light on MoM’s apparent pessimism or weariness of this cycle though. So we have 2 variations of motives for MoM. We got a mad scientist route that paints him more morbidly curious and fascinated by the cycle. This is probably the interpretation Ava discovers prior to hatching her coup. But then we’ve got this martyr route that makes it so MoM is simply try to prevent the war from happening ever again.

Ava’s Goal

So I refer to the mad scientist route as the route Ava understands because I have long picked up that MoM’s Dandelion plot goes to extreme lengths to manipulate the new variables (the leaders) into the very same positions of tension as the original run in a style similar to an experimental trial. As with the Fortellers there are arbitrary unions (for division), there is a secret chosen leader to have crucial information (the Lost Page and the BoP) and there are mechanisms in place that encourage the building of power, in-fighting, and completely refuse recovery (PvP recreation and memory overwriting).

Like many watchers of Back Cover, the obvious answer to the question “who is the traitor” is simply “there is no traitor”. The paradox is that very truth creates a traitor in Ava. From my theory Luxu’s conversation with Ava that results in the bell tolling reveals this. Ava acts in initial denial and then betrayal, refusing the role and very quickly hatching a plot to negate that role.

So MoM simply manipulated the situation to build the tension and made it happen. Now that we know that even before X, the Keyblade War was cyclically occurring to MoM’s witness, and now we have a better perspective to the fact that MoM was clearly invoking the war to happen with his apprentices. But even more, it was a long plot to manipulate the rebirth of the realm. And curious enough, the realm is now of his making. (God mode anyone?).

On that note he calls Unchained the trial and UX the ‘real deal’. If Unchained was basically retelling X, then the fact that they expanded past that telling means that MoM has a very stark interest in making the UX phase of the plot unfold differently (or maybe... simply watching IF it unfolds differently).

Who knows, there could actually be well meaning intentions in all this manipulation, we are at least getting some level of feedback to both of those perspectives.

DT as a data-world

This is a confirmation that really... soothes my heart. The persistence that the entire Dandelion reality was real was starting to erode the theories guys. I did joss my meta-catastrophe concept that Game Station was actually digitizing the world from the outside but it’s honestly easier to swallow this way. In summary, the leaders insisted that the world they left for after the war was real because believing it was data would key them in too early that they are trapped. Lauriam states that truth just as much. It is a cage. The truth is that if they left to the real world there would be nothing but the ruins of the war they left behind.

This kinda helps with the concepts of worldlines too. I was originally allowing worldlines to have a definition of ‘real’-- expanding the concept of reality to have multiple planes of legitimacy, but it almost seems safe now to interpret worldlines as entirely fabricated strands of reality. Say, a dream or a data construction. I know this was a movement before, but I held on to the idea that there could be a ‘real’ definition in the worldlines based on Luxu’s Observations of the KHUX happenings. This informs a little more about Sora’s kh3 shenanigans (creating dreams that unfold differently?) and implies a wealth of what actually needs to go down to bring us to Scala and make the leaders time displaced (escape the data world and rebuild atop the ruins of the decimated DT from the X war-- and time doesn’t flow in the dream realms a la ddd so they could leave the dream at potentially wild points in time).

Keyblade War cycle

On a side note, MoM is very evasive when Luxu is asking clarification questions about the forces involved in his childhood war and even the existence of keyblade-- weapons we know MoM himself devised the crafting of. My thought is that the ‘keyblade war’ is a catch-all term MoM is using to describe a repetitive, endless cycle of world-ending destruction. Basically war in general. The keyblade aspect is potentially an added element of his creation. Potentially. Not entirely positive on that matter.

But essentially I do not think events of X was happening over and over and over again. The Keyblade War took many forms but always resulted in total destruction and was always rebuilt by the survivors. By the time X started MoM was invoking the war and trying to control how it unfolds and again, control the rebirth of the world.

Finally

I have a few more off-shoots to spin from these confirmations. (Xehanort’s ambition to learn about this war by recreating it echoes MoM so discovering that it’s kinda already been done would potentially halt his actions explaining Luxu’s defensive measure against steering Xehanort away from the past). And there are some questionable reactions in the murder mystery drama (my new Ven sleeper agent theory felt some gooooood support with MoM’s description of darkness taking human shape). But my meta catastrophe is seeing some revisions with MoM still behaving like an author and worldlines asserting themselves as fabricated, but MoM’s origin seems to have firmer feet in the realms of fiction at least for now (though his childhood ‘Keyblade’ War is vague enough to be our form of war you know).

This is just my ramblings. I cannot for the life of me make my khux theories streamlined.

#kingdom hearts #khux #khux spoilers #ava is darkness

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maddiicake · 4 years ago

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Ramblings of a Madwoman

Because I honestly have no other idea what to title this as. To put it simple, that's what this entire journal is going to be. From start to finish--no stopping to think about whatever f-ed up stuff will be put into written text and to be immortalized for eternity (deleted after or not) here on the World Wide Web--nothing but unedited, freewriting, off topic sidebar-ing throughout the entirety of this Journal. So, we'll see where and how it ends.

In about a month, I'll have been on DeviantART for an entire decade (and about 8 years since Tumblr). And, I just want to make it clear: I've done a shit tone of fucked up things in all the years that I've been here. Of course, this was things that I mainly did to people. (Yes, people, because, let's face it, whether or not we have the comfort of anonymity behind the keyboard in the middle of our "safe space" of the internet, we're still people on the other side of the screens). But, yes, I've done and said fucked up shit to people during me time here. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Nor will I deny any of the messed up stuff that I've done, especially to said people, in the past decade. I'll spare you all the wall of novel-length text that consists of my usual self-deprecating self-flagellation, since you all know the drill by now. Plus, I would hate putting you all to sleep just at the beginning of this Journal.

I'm messed up in the head. Plain and simple.

In my younger years (earlier in the decade, right about when I first appeared on dA), I had something wrong with me--not sure what, but it was definitely something that I, unfortunately, would never fully realize until recently this year. I grew up sheltered in an overly Conservative and Bible-Thumping household. The neighborhood I grew up in was what my parents lovingly called "God's Waiting Room", because of all the old-timers living in the homes. Any kids around were ones that I wasn't allowed to socialize with because my parents didn't want them "influencing" me. So, needless to say, I didn't have much of a social life growing up. I only went to a real school for two and a half years of my life, and, during that time, I stuck out more than a sore thumb (Hell, I didn't even know what a "Cafeteria" was, because the only "Cafeteria" I knew of was the dinner table. So, needless to say, my first time experiencing "lunch" was very awkward). All in all, being sheltered and not having much of a social life when you're still in your single-digits you grow up having this narcissistic know-it-all, controlling, 'I'm better than you', 'I'm the only person in this world and everyone else doesn't exist' personality and you think that you can control everyone else to your every whim. Being put into a real school with other real life people and kids my age was, obviously, a massive culture shock. When you suddenly realize that other people are their own individual person and have their own free will, you start to become aware that you were educated and raised in a world that could be similar to solitary confinement.

"Oh, hey, (Saki's real name). What're you doing?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just trying to think of how I can get all my classmates together for our superhero team so we can go off and fight bad guys in my head, all the while thinking I can bend them to my will as if they're not actually other human beings."

"...Didn't Chris-Chan already do that?"

"Pfft. This is 2005! Chris-Chan won't be a thing for another few years."

Now, my parents weren't perfect. I was their first child, and the first-borns are always the "guinea pigs" for new parents. Of course, I never understood that my parents were humans until my 20s. They made mistakes with me, like thinking that not giving their young impressionable daughter a social life through the first crucial years of her childhood was a good idea.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining--that's always the initial reaction people get whenever they read posts like this from me. "Oh, Saki's just starting drama", "Kura just wants attention", "She's cray-cray and needs help, like srsly...". Believe me, I get it, I completely understand why one would think that I sound like I'm complaining. Because you, the reader, are just reading these little pixelated words that look black on your computer monitor/mobile screen. But, in reality, when up close, those pixels are just a collection of RBGs. You interpret what you see through your reading and comprehension of the words before you. Because you're not the author. You merely interpret what you're writing and filling the blanks with guesswork of what the writer is trying to convey through these little pixels making up words.

It's weird, y'know... They say that "hearing voices" is the first step into insanity. But, are you insane if you're fully aware of it? They say that psychos and sociopaths don't admit nor are aware of their disorder because of the narcissism that accompanies it. So... would you still be a psychopath or sociopath if you admit it and/or are aware of it? These are just a handful of the kind of questions that fill he chaotic Hell in my mind when nothing else is going on.

Lately, though, that hasn't been very often. For those of you, who follow me on Tumblr (by the way, if you still follow me there, you must have a lot of tolerance for me), you may have noticed the rather alarming on-and-off episodes I've been having over the past few weeks. Trust me when I tell you that former friends will assure that "This is normal for Saki/Kura. Just stay away from her. She's just a lost cause. You'll only end up hurt associating with her, much less talking to her."

"Saki... the things you have been saying aren't really 'normal'--"

"Oh trust me... this is the Keemster-level of a 'cycle' that she goes through. Why do you think we made her theme song that Keemstar Parody of All Star? LMAO. This is 100% Normal for her."

But, what is normal? 'Normal' is nothing more than a perception of what we're used to: routines, topics, lifestyles--whatever we are used to. When something occurs that is out of our routine, we immediately perceive it as 'abnormal' (or just not normal). Much life me experience, albeit rather brief, time I spent in an actual school. You feel that unnerving unease as the stranger in a foreign land.

Now, what I do and say isn't Healthy, that would be the proper use of the phrase you're trying to portray. But, my diagnosis came far too late. There's no undoing what is done. There's no chance at saving loathsome sinners, the chance they had was the life they had before and the punishment is this. There's no rainbows inside of demons.

People, who view others outside of their little bubble, call those 'abnormal' people "toxic", simply because that person has disturbing psychological issues. It's like: "Ewww! A mud puddle! Gross I can't believe I stepped in that! Now my $200 shoes are ruined forever because of that damn puddle!" Those people are treated as lower than dirt just because their perceived in such a negative light. It's a label those high and mighty ones quickly slap onto those, who can't help the disorders they have. Sometimes those people aren't even aware they have a disorder, yet those prissy princesses still sit with upturned noses and chastise with their prim: "You need help, srsly." with their venomous undertone of "I'm better than you." Is it really fair to be some uppity hoity-toity sociality; sneering through your little rainbow-soap window down below at those loathsome dirty little plebian peasants? Perhaps that may be "normal" for you.

Sometimes--no, actually, often; very often--I just want to pop that bubble. Let that sprinkle of soap sting their eyes as it dribbles into their corneas. Their screams and cries in pain while they lean over the sink to wash them out would be such a delight.

I would go into more detail about other things regarding this, but I'm not dumb enough to freewrite my thoughts out to the point there's incriminating evidence against me.

"...Saki, this Journal is getting a little dark..."

"It's called 'Ramblings of a Madwoman' for a reason. Besides, the little 13-year-old edgelord wannabes on this website get away with far worse. Trust me, I've seen them. Some of them are in their 20s and haven't grown out of that phase. Them going on and getting away with using their boyfriends, who has ties to the dark Web, to get the personal information (mailing address and all) of the people they don't like just so that they can have them killed. You'd be surprised how thin-skinned these little lefties are. 'Someone Disagrees with me?? -cue Mission Impossible montage of tracking that person down and killing them-'."

"But you're talking about killing people!"

"I have said no such thing! At least not put it in writing. What part of 'I'm not dumb enough to post incriminating evidence of myself' did you not understand, my dear?"

Yes... it would be nice to have a peace of mind for once day. It would be amazing to not have to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat from another night terror (had one just last night actually). When people want you dead--and have gone out of their way to find your address so that they can kill you--, all you want to do is keep you and your family safe. People can't kill you if they no longer exist, right? It would be just so nice to be able to go on for the rest of my life without having to worry about being sought after and killed just because I disagreed with someone and told them they were being stupid and immature. Or just randomly responding to condescending Twitter users, who think I'm talking about a certain someone when I'm not. But, just knowing that people still continue to go after me for no apparent reason just causes those night terrors to persist.

I just want to keep my family safe. Selfishly, I want to be able to sleep without having to worry about people in other States and Countries somehow knowing where I live and can come and kill me at any moment.

"Why didn't you call the cops--?"

"Because I didn't know it was them at the time it happened. Their former friend didn't tell me about all the plots and things they said in their Discord server until two years later. So, they were able to get away with this because of the Statute of Limitations."

Regardless, that still won't put my mind at ease knowing that they're still out there and can pull the same thing or worse once again. I wasn't the only one they they did this too, either. Of course, that the YouTube Drama Channels for you. They do fucked up shit behind the scenes while putting on some "I'm a good person" face.

You can't trust people, who act nice publicly. They aren't the innocent souls they want everyone to believe that they are. They want something. They want something from you. And when they've squeezed everything out of you that they want... they'll toss you away with no hesitation because they're done using you. Using you to feed their little lambs, whose fleece are white as snow, while they sleep their way to the top.

They want me dead. They've always wanted me dead. They know where I live, and they'll take me out along with the rest of my family. They'll rejoice and be glad of course~ ^u^ "Ding Dong the witch is dead~!" They will sing as they dance together happily in the streets. "Huzzah! Hooray! The monster has been slain. No longer shall she continue to torment us because we have FINALLY killed her~!" They said so themselves: "I'm happy that people told you these things." That was back in 2015 (and I still have the screenshot and the link to the original post)... half a decade ago. Even back then, they wanted me dead. Their party planning for that day is still in preparation. But, they'll immediately set up once that time come when I no longer exist. "...Saki, you're not okay."

This is what happens to people when they've finally Snapped.

But, I want to get better. Don't get me wrong. I don't like that I've become this person. No, I don't believe in change--I don't believe people can change whatsoever. I just want to feel better and not have to worry about these things anymore. But, I know well that things will never be the same. All I can do is continue moving forward and hope and pray that I don't mess up once again and start the cycle all over.

#depression #bpd #mari-m-rose #novanoah #miss-mary-grace #madiis musings

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naerryn · 5 years ago

Photo

A Promised Reward

The setting sun hung low on the horizon as I found myself on board, taking a deep breath of the fresh, salty air of the Atlantic Ocean. It’s only been a couple hours since the research ship had left the harbor of Gotham City.

Officially, my small crew and I were charged with the task of collecting samples of micro plastics near the Arctic Ocean. Unofficially, Bruce Wayne and Lucius Fox wanted to test a couple new technologies off the radar.

Wayne asked me to supervise the crew and to smoother any suspicion about who would use such technology right in the cradle.

I rested my arms on the railing of the ship, admiring the gorgeous sunset while a soft gust of wind tangled through my hair, making a slight mess out of it. “[Y/N]?”, I heard one of the scientists call out my name, sounding rather out of breath before I turned around on the spot to start screaming my lungs out at the sight in front of me.

The elder man, a small rivulet of blood running out of his mouth and down on his chin, collapsed a couple steps ahead of me on the steely ground. This swift motion cleared the view on two crucial spots.

First, there was an open wound in the back of the scientist, blood running out of it and creating a small puddle of the red liquid. Unattended, he would die within the next couple minutes.

Second, there was a heavy armored figure standing right where he stood, a knife glittering in the light of the dark orange sun. Blood covered the blade.

“LexCorp are sending their regards.”, the deep voice of the hooded figure rang through his helmet and after he finished speaking, more armored intruders climbed up the railing behind him.

Of course we had expected that our little excursion wouldn’t pass completely uneventful, but I would have never thought that trespassers would enter the scene this early. They caught us completely off guard, and I would kick my ass later for being so careless.

“She’s coming with us.”, the first intruder said calmly as he pointed towards me while exchanging glances with one of the masked figures. He got rid of his own helmet, revealing a man in his fifties with a well trimmed beard. The face of the man who ended one of the lives I was responsible for.

“Why?”, another intruder raised his voice, not hiding his surprise of the order he just received from the alleged leader of those hired mercenaries that started to swarm out all over the ship.

The two men stepped closer to each another, the hooded one turned his back to me while my eyes started scanning their equipment and my surroundings. High tech weapons and knifes on their end compared to still unpacked boxes and cases.

I could hide behind the boxes or trying to get past the intruders and either head for the bridge, to send out an SOS, or make a run for the lower deck and get to my cabin. There, all my gear is waiting for me.

All those options had almost zero chances for a success, at least under the current circumstances. The only real option left was playing nice and see what the intruders are up to, hoping to find a loophole somewhere, somehow to reshuffle the pack in my favor.

With a loud groan, the two men separated and the masked one strides directly towards my position. I lifted my gaze to look up to the spot of his helmet where I predicted his eyes as he came to stop right in front if me. The suit looked familiar, but I couldn’t place my finger on where I could have seen that before.

“So, you’re [Y/N]? I am disappointed.”, the sonorous sound of his voice was filled with disdain, only interrupted by the soft click of his helmet being loosened by his gloved fingers.

Under different circumstances, I would have bit my bottom lip rather enchanted by the looks of this man, his dark eyes fixed on mine as as he clenched his helmet between one of his muscular arms and his side. But this was a matter of life and death, I needed a clear head.

“It looks like you’re having a clear advantage over me.”

“Only one?”, he raised an eyebrow in slight amusement, cocking his head to the side as his eyes scanned me from head to toe. In a bar, after a long day at work, I would have batted my eyelashes at him, setting for a drink and some small talk together in a quiet corner. Curious about where this encounter would let to.

‘God, I had to stop those thoughts.’, I told myself silently and shook my head almost invisibly, mirroring his motion as I tilted my head to the side.

“You know who I am. I am, on the other side, completely in the blue who you and the rest of this little undertaking are.”

“That’s unimportant.”

“Son, be more polite to our special guest. No wonder you never”, the voice of the leader was heard over the speakers on board, only interrupted by the death glare the man in front of me shot towards the glass front of the bridge.

“Working with professionals just once would be nice, huh?”

“You have no idea.”, he muttered under his breath, a smirk ghosting over his lips before he gestured me with his gloved free hand to follow him. It took me a little bit by surprise how quickly his mood changed. Either he underestimated me, or they have some cards up their sleeve that I am not yet aware off.

“So, your old man wants me alive at the moment.”, I asked as I followed him towards one entrance to the lower deck, where part of the crew and the more interesting stuff was stored before our departure.

“Stop that. You won’t get any information from me.”

We reached the metallic door to the under deck, the intruder had to lower his head to not pump it against the hard frame and started walking down the stairs. I followed him on the stairs in silence, admiring for a split second how nicely his suit fits his trained body.

“I saw you in the news.”, he started talking again as I reached the final step of the stairs, looking back at me over his broad shoulders. “For an autograph it would have been enough to contact my PR agency.”, the words slipped my mouth before thinking twice, but thankfully I was rewarded with an amused snort.

“Oh please, why only being satisfied with a piece of paper when I am able to get the real deal? But while we are at it, you don’t know where to find this little merman, right?”, he suddenly came to halt and I ran right into his stone hard back, noticing he didn’t even lost balance the slightest through our collision.

I raised my eyebrows in question, looking up at him while he met my gaze with his dark eyes, again looking back at me over his shoulders and a corner of his mouth curved upwards.

“Professional interest. In my job it’s only a matter of time before our ways cross, and I prefer it to be sooner than later.”, he spoke calmly, almost calculated as he moved around to face me directly. It’s like he was able to read my mind, but it must have been perfectly clear to him that I would ask him about it before voicing his question.

“Haven’t seen him since Metropolis.”, I answered honestly, shrugging my shoulders and judging the look on his face, he wasn’t pleased with this information. But it was true, I stayed back in Metropolis after helping the Justice League bringing Superman back to life. Wayne wanted me out of the way, in case they would fail and I could try to find people for a second chance against Steppenwolf. Thankfully, that was never necessary, but Louis Lane still made sure I was just as big in the news as the others.

“You know how to contact him?”

“Oh, of course. I will just quickly send a message in our little superhero group chat and see if he’s free today.”

“You’re to full of yourself, [Y/N]. For someone who’s supposed to be one of earth best, you’re doing a poor job right now.”, he growled in a low voice, stepping hovering over me until my back hits the cold metal wall.

“I am avoiding unnecessary violence. But at the end of the hallway, on the right, there’s my cabin and we could get my toys out and play.”, I respond unshaken by his words, but his sharp features dropped within a blink of the eye and his mouth felt slightly open.

Yes, I could have said it differently. Like, a lot. I should have. On the other side, he was now the one caught off guard, but the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway. His comrades were close, it was useless to try a hand to hand fight with him.

“I...”, he stuttered, obviously losing his train of thoughts as his voice died on him.

“What do you want from me? Your leader wanted me alive. Why?”

“As a joker, in case someone caught wind of this and your ‘friends’ showed up.”

So, he’ll let information slip when he’s embarrassed. Noted.

“How long have you guys followed us?”

“Ever since the workers started boarding the ship.”

“Why now? Why not waiting for the ship to be even further away from civilization?”, he stretched his back, taking in a deep breath as he stared me in the eyes, obviously winning back his full senses.

“You looked so calm. Like nothing could ever hurt you. Our employer wanted us to attack when we observe such a behavior. As a wake up call. No one is untouchable.”, his voice was only a soft whisper, and I wondered what changed his mind on not giving me any intel of their mission.

“Still bitter about Metropolis.”, I muttered to myself, coming to conclusion that their reason for hijacking this ship had nothing to do with me, it’s only the scratched ego of a mad man that lead them here.

“You guys know Luthor is only using you to do his dirty work.”

“He’s paying good. Very good. And we can keep everything we find on this ship. Call it a business opportunity we couldn’t miss out.”, I slowly swayed my head from side to side, weighting their options as Lex Luthor must have approached them with his offer.

“I would have done it to. But why killing the scientist? What about the rest of the crew?”

“He’s the whistle-blower. My old man doesn’t like rats. The rest of the crew is fine. We’re only interested in the... toys.”, he let the last word roll of his tongue with a clouded look in his eyes, moistening his lips with swift motion of his tongue. His eyes never left mine.

And then, I felt something cold on my right wrist, followed by a faint clicking sound. Handcuffs. Lovely.

“I wasn’t aware you’re into this stuff.”

“No, but it will keep you busy for a while. Specially made by Luthor. Buys us enough time to get a comfortable headstart before you can call for help or even follow us yourself.”

Letting his words sink in, another realization hit me, harder then the first one a moment ago. I felt for a cliché.

“Fuck.”

“Bad guy reveals his evil plans, so the hero has enough time to come up with a plan and save the day. Just, this time it brought us the time to get everything we want off this ship and the hero looking even more like an idiot.”, stepping backwards, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, he juggled his helmet around and rested his back against the wall in front of me.

Now I couldn’t even kick him if I wanted to, he was out of reach for me.

“But an attractive idiot. The pictures definitely doesn’t come close to the real beauty.”

“David, are you done playing around?”, another voice filled the air, we looked up to the stairs at the same time to notice that their leader standing in the middle of the staircase. The elder intruder called the man in front of me son earlier, and now looking at both of them, there was definitely a remarkable resemblance between those two men. Father and Son. Partners in crime.

“Yeah, let’s head out of here.”, the younger man said, likely going by the name of David, if it’s not a cover up. Both man started moving, but David didn’t head for the stairs directly. Instead, he moved right in front of me and his hot breath hitting my face. A smug smile gracing his lips. He won, we both know it.

Cupping my face on one side with his gloved free hand, David let his thumb run over my bottom lip before leaning in, his lips now right next to one of my ears.

“Catch me if you can. I would like to see the marvelous [Y/N] in action. Sweating, heavy breathing. Calling out for me.”, he purred in a low growl, his lips ghosted over my sensitive skin as he backed off and started walking up the stairs before stepping out of my sight.

I felt this wouldn’t be the last time I encounter this man, David. But for now, I had to get rid of this god damn handcuffs and get a hold of someone.

#dc comics imagine #dc imagine #dceu imagine #black manta #black manta x reader #david kane #david kane x reader #aquaman #aquaman imagine #imagine #reader insert

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cadpadawan · 5 years ago

Text

A Presentation of Epic Proportions

Just the other day, I had a school assigment of the most peculiar kind. It was supposed to be executed as a collaborative team effort in groups of 2-3 students. I was blessed with two individuals, whose contribution to the project was very minimal. One of the guys was too busy with his part-time job to contribute much, though I have to give him credit for trying anyway. The other one focused more on waiting for some kind of a divine inspiration to start working, and spent the time in the local pubs looking for it. Such a bohemian approach might have proven quite effective, had this assignment been associated with the nuances of various craft beers, but alas, it was about a sheet metal design that, by definition, must have dearly dispirited my fellow student not to give a shit. So, I basically had to maneuver this team project to completion practically on my own. For a solo endeavour, it simply was a bit too much to chew, especially as I initially set the goal a little bit too high, in some ill-adviced burst of optimism. Well, when the project started, I genuinely thought that these two heroes, without a cape, would actually contribute more to it. Eventually, I made it – but as you may observe in the transcription of the project presentation, that I had to perform in English...oh, well...check for yourself. Here it is, in full detail:

“Ok, ladies [articulated with an extensively sarcastic tone, as the audience was 99% young men], may I have your undivided attention, please...

We have gathered here today to witness the ultimate triumph of the human mind over matter, that is, sheet metal matter in this particular case. I have the immense pleasure to welcome y'all to the magical mystery Powerpoint presentation of a state-of-the-art sheet metal gun cabinet. This spectacle will be brought to you by this dubious threesome of mechanical engineering undergrads... Oh, wait. My dear colleagues in this joint venture could not make it today, unfortunately, quite like they could not make it most of the time, during this whole project. For starters, I might as well introduce you to my designer team, anyway – the aptly named Team Ahma [a reference to a Finnish sitcom]. My team consisted of these two characters, who magically were mostly absent throughout this ordeal. Had they actually made it to school today, here in the right hand corner of the podium, you'd be seeing a handsome young bloke named [I better not publish any personal information, y'know...], and in the penalty box, for cross-checking the progress, you'd be witnessing the hangover happyface [please, insert a sophomoric genitalia reference here]. Please, give a round of applause to these two high-performance individuals here.

The underlying objective of this collaborative effort was to design a steel cabinet, with the basic function to store away four individual pieces of firearms in an upright position, hence designed exclusively for weapons of the long-barreled variety, such as shotguns and hunting rifles – or, if this cabinet was targeted at customers in the Middle Eastern regions, also AK-47's. This design project was commissioned, supervised and reviewed by our Dear Leader and mentor in 3D design [well, y'know how it goes by now, don't cha...]. This sheet metal design project was commissioned with one precondition: the cabinet's storage capacity was to be limited to four guns. It was due to the fact, that the Finnish gun legislation had a thing or two to say about storing larger number of guns. The material thickness of the cabinet walls, locking mechanism and whatnot were strictly regulated if the number of weapons exceeded four. So, basically I had free hands to come up with pretty much any kind of cabinet, as long as I maintained some kind of an awareness, that the gun rack was not designed for more than four pieces.

Sounds relatively easy, right?

Except maybe for the fact, that the flood of options presented a kind of a challenge in itself. I was faced with the pointed question: where could I find a single, all-consuming concept for such a sheet metal design? You see, I didn't really pay attention when we had the theory class. I was too busy typing cover letters for a summer trainee position. Ok, where do people find info on anything nowadays?

Well, online, of course.

Despite being a member of the sad boomer generations, whose level of internet comprehension usually will not suffice for anything more than checking emails and watching dubious adult entertainment, I managed to do quite an extensive round of online research. So, before getting my hands dirty with the tedious maneuvering around the minute details of the actual design, I navigated in the cyber jungle of gun retail. I checked what kind of cabinet applications were available, with what specifications – and most importantly, for what price range. I browsed through the online bazaars of long-barreled guns typically stored in a cabinet like this, as well. In the hope of gathering some information that might prove useful in my project. I even gave a once-over at the legislation. It was totally unnecessary, but some of the imperatives imposed by the law actually seemed worthy of consideration.

Maybe I should elaborate...

As I do not have any prior experience in the sheet metal industry, except at the customer end, I was essentially shooting in the dark at random. I could have squeezed my brain juice into the project design, with neither forethought nor intention, and just hope for the best. I decided to implement some of the basic tenets of the gun regulations in the design, instead. Neither of my fellow designer students objected. One was too busy, trying to make some money with real work, and the other one just didn't give a shit. Why did I want to go the extra mile, then?

[Off-topic alert: here comes a lengthy rant about the sad state of affairs, when you’re getting re-educated in the ripe age of +45...]

I shall graduate in December 2021, and when the day comes, I'll be closer to 50 than 40 years old. My past work history consists of mainly irrelevant bullshit jobs. Until my life drastically changed in 2016, I used to consider work as just a nifty means to pay for my real passion, that was to make music with no inherent commercial potential, that is: all kinds of progressive rock, for beer money and ”exposure”. Work was just the necessary evil to pay for all this. What I actually did for work didn't really mean shit to me...and now, as I've been trying to apply for any kind of a trainee job, suitable for a mechanical engineering undergraduate, I've come to notice that my previous work experience doesn't actually mean shit to my potential employers either. I started applying for trainee positions starting next summer already in early December. Now, we're living in mid-March. Each and every application that I sent out, bounced back like a boomerang, with the bulk response written in the most dry and academic tone: thanks, but no thanks. So, if I wanted to make a difference in the eyes of my future employers, I would be compelled to go the extra mile every single time I had the chance. I guess I can now better relate to how it must feel to be, say, young, gifted and black in this country – or in any other Western country, for that matter. I had become an old white nigga in the eyes of society. I might as well have shot heroin all my life so far...I have skills and experience that are totally irrelevant for an engineering job.

I wonder if there was actually some factual point, that I was circum-navigating there...

To cut to the chase:

I chose to apply the minimum material thickness of 4 millimeters to the outer walls of the cabinet, along with the idea, that this cabinet ought to be practically impossible to break into. I hoped that these design constraints would lace this project with more focus and drive. After all, it's quite a hard-wired human tendency to fall into the trap of under-achievement, or to get overwhelmed by the sheer volume of a design project like this. In this particular case, lowering the standards would have probably saved my ass, though. Usually, being dolled-up with no exact destination to go, getting the job done without paramilitary leadership, or the channeling of demons, might prove unnecessarily hard.

On top of this, a sneak peek at the similar products on the market provided some crucial insight on the basic dimensions and structure for this type of a gun cabinet. There was no need to invent the wheel anew, when all I needed was some modifications on it. With all the necessary background information gathered, I was ready to outline the initial to-do list for the project, where to start, and how to stay on track. In short, I decided to go for a cabinet of impressive proportions and powerfully expressive character – a sheet metal cabinet on steroids, sort of. The preliminary online research also implicated, that the market was actually dominated by rather second grade tin cans. In this respect, I assumed that it wouldn't really take much of an effort to stand out. I concluded, that my desire to put a little more emphasis on the function and safety of the cabinet would suffice to differentiate it from the competition in this particular capacity range. Thus, one of the key elements in this cabinet design was the double-layered steel chassis, structured in 4 millimeter steel plate. For the sake of simplicity and cost-effective manufacturing, I favoured the basic perpendicular bends of 90 degrees. After all, I was not about to design a fancy mobile decoration of steel, to be suspended from the ceiling on Christmas eve. For such an unregulated cabinet design, the material thickness was probably a bit of an overkill, but I reckoned that it would prevent any unauthorized entering into the cabinet. Furthermore, I assumed – and quite rightly so – that these two layers of steel were prone to make the structure heavy enough, not to be moved into the pikey-model Toyota Hiace with Bulgarian register plates, at least not single-handedly by any amphetamine-fueled random break-and-enter artist. Obviously, a determined professional would make his way for the guns, no matter what this cabinet was made of. First and foremost, I designed this cabinet along the lines, that the robust structure would essentially discourage any half-assed attempts to illegitimately take possession of the goodies inside. I would guess, that it's not a thoroughly thought-out idea to break and enter into a house of some old timer who owns guns, in the first place. Let alone, the idea of trying to break into a cube of steel, without proper power tools. In the unfortunate case, that a random junkie decided to go for it, I would dare to envision, that all the meth in the world was not enough to grant manpower to manually force this steel door open. It would require spesific tools, paired with an exceptionally determined or desperate mindset. Although, I guess it would certainly make for a hilarious episode in one of those popular reality shows you can watch on TV nowadays

In conclusion, taking on such an extra challenge provided me with a clear objective for this design project. Had I known the amount of work that ensued, I might as well have chosen to install a beer tap, or a Nintendo Wii game console with motion sensors to my design. I opted for enhanced security. Although, the Finnish gun culture is nowhere near as bizarre as the American ”Shoot 'em up”-culture, quite the contrary, actually. In the outbreak of a zombie holocaust, the Finnish gunmen are more likely to remain as one of the last sane frontier guards on the fault lines of civilization, in my honest opinion. We don't get to witness random mass shootings, conducted in a spur of the moment drug-frenzy, so often. Nor do we need to read about juveniles shooting one another in a fit of an existential teenage angst, because the Playstation 4 abruptly went offline for no apparent reason.

On a more serious tone, I started the project by searching for some vague idea for a steel cabinet, and the gods of mechanical engineering must have been in favor of this humble endeavour, since I managed to formulate the concept fairly quickly. At the end of the day, how hard can it be to sketch a rectangular box with a door? My kids are reaching teen age, but I'm sure they could have managed to draw something like this with a slide ruler and a pencil way back when they were only five years old or something. In retrospect, though, I feel compelled to make a bold statement, that it sure ain’t easy. Somewhere along the way, I was introduced to a phenomenon, that I would like to refer to as What The Fuck-factor. I apologize for the graphic and evocative term I coined for it, but believe me, it is quite an appropriate definition for such an indecent phenomenon. It is formulated also in the Murphy's Law: if something has even a slight chance of going wrong, it most certainly will. I had my fair share of that in this project, that’s for sure.

The next chapter in this surreal drama, the actual design process itself, was carried out with the PT Creo 3D-modeling software, in compliance with the guidelines imposed by the sheet metal standard DIN 6930. Without giving it that much thought, I adopted a kind of top-down approach. I decomposed the concept into smaller sub-concepts, such as the individual components in the assembly. It all sounded great in theory, but in the rush of a work overload, the emotional strength to actually keep the big picture clear in mind at all times...it just magically seemed to evaporate into the thin air, like fairy dust...

To be brutally honest, the design process was a fucking nightmare.

I apologize for my frequent use of French adjectives. I've been trying to discipline myself against the abundant use of such foul language, but I just can't help it. My mouth is quicker than my moral filters for politically correct choice of words. Besides, the occassional strong word usually gets the point across much better, and I wouldn't be surprised if the cuss words were accountable for the most part of the modern office communication. Before starting a new life as a CAD-padawan, I used to work for a company, where the corporate language was best described as management by perkele.

Perkele is a vintage cuss word in the Finnish language, loaded with some eerie sense of personal empowerment, thus way more powerful than the more offensive ones, that are trending in the speak of the millennials.

The sketching started in a tried-and-true manner: by throwing up some random ideas in whatever form seemed fit. The design concept for the steel door seemed to provide a promising start. So, without further experiments, the steel door design was underway. Since the door played quite an integral part in the cabinet, the dimensions of the door pretty much laid out the framework for the rest of the design. And this small, ill-considered choice of component was probably the single most damaging factor contributing to why things got essentially sour a little bit later. The overall thickness of the door, in particular, set all kinds of funny little restrains on the design of the other parts, consecutively. It was 35 millimeters, that is a relatively large number in this context, and it projected a certain set of esoteric demands on the dimensions of the doorframe, and particularly on the hinge mechanism needed.

Now, the hinge mechanism...

That was a real pain-in-the-ass in this project...

The ultimate can of worms.

There is an idiom in the Finnish language, usually uttered aloud in a fairly sarcastic tone. It goes: ”liian monta liikkuvaa osaa” - that stands for ”too many moving particles”, in English.

It's a perfect description for the hardships that I encountered with the hinge design. The mission objective was to control the movement of two metal bodies, in relation to each other. Or to be more precise, to control the opening of the door. The doorframe was pretty much a static component. So, I had one moving particle – the door. Due to all kinds of funny preconceptions, it soon became painfully obvious, that this one moving particle was actually one too many.

Liian monta liikkuvaa osaa, y'know...

And little by little, frustration was gaining momentum...

I had the steel door assembly figured out by now, as well as the design for the doorframe. Then I realized, that I had figuratively shot myself in the leg. I could almost taste the irony in my mouth. The universe seemed to have a sick sense of humour. Don't get me wrong, I am actually one of those Myers-Briggs personality types who prefer their humour just like they prefer their morning cup of coffee – pitch black, with absolutely no sweeteners. (I'm also quite fond of quality gin, and craft beers with a bitter flavour...so, I guess I'm a downright psycho, and those of you, who order soya frappuccinos in Starbucks, will be my first victims, when I finally lose my shit and dash off on a killing spree...I'm joking, right?)

I soon realized, that if I wanted to implement all the safety measures that I originally opted for, I needed to ensure that the door fit the doorframe like a glove. The tight clearance between the door and the frame was an inherent part of the whole concept for an idiot-proof gun cabinet. In practice, the idea was that the door would refuse to eject open, even if you cut your way through the bolt of the lock, or the hinges. This approach necessitated a lot of extra work. It also called for a special kind of double-action hinge mechanism, something similar to those jump-action hinges that come installed in some of the hipster brand kitchen cupboards, like Puustelli etc. This type of hinge ejects the door outwards first, before opening 90 degrees in the desired direction. Well, it works wonders in the kitchen fixtures, but...

Would it work with a steel door that weighed like a ton?

That was exactly what I needed to find out.

Had this concept fully realized in practice, which it obviously did not, it might have actually imposed an additional set of requirements on the hinges, in turn. I formulated all kinds of funny little mental configurations, how this particular type of hinge might have worked in this cabinet setting. At some point, it finally dawned on me, like a sudden moment of comprehension, or the sensation to which the Japanese zen buddhist tradition refers with the term ”satori”. I was practically shooting myself in the leg some more...

Even if I made this science fiction hinge mechanism work, so that the door would actually open beautifully, without any obstructions...then what?

In the name of safety, I had adjusted that clearance between the door and the frame to be extremely tight. Thus, it was absolutely necessary for the door to be perfectly aligned with the frame, vertically. Otherwise, the door would neither close nor open. This concept seemed to suggest that it was essential to lock the door into position, when either fully open or fully closed. Otherwise, it would get stuck. So, the deeper I delved into the details of this particular hinge mechanism, the more evident it became, that it would probably be way too complicated to design. I must admit that I felt tempted to call it quits, and go home and watch football on satellite TV. This project was turning into a joke, with me being the punchline, and it wasn't funny anymore.

I introduced this sheet metal project as state-of-the-art, remember?

Now we're getting to the artsy part.

I could have responded to this unfortunate turn of events by sketching an alternative, or even a set of alternatives, and then move on like nothing happened. Sticking to the idea, that my steel door insisted on the application of this particular type of hinge mechanism, was beginning to resonate the ambience of a game of Tetris, where you kept getting the wrong pieces round after round, ad infinitum. At this stage, however, my unjustified optimism hadn't been killed yet, so...when this issue called attention to an ever-increasing amount of detail, I simply considered it as a challenge accepted, or a personal insult to my intelligence, even. It was a call to arms. Thus, I insisted on not to seek any alternatives, not yet, as if bound by a samurai honour code. After all, I had the concept for this particular type of hinge mechanism clear in my mind. There was only the trifle matter of putting it into realization, to take care of.

At this stage, the summoning of demons might actually have proven quite handy.

I was faced with the ultimate question: how to tap back into the creative flow, when the empire was falling around me?

Maybe I should have attached a slide of the hinge mechanism I found in some engineering porn site that was infested with a multitude of graphic illustrations and video shootage of all kinds of highly technical gadgets and gizmos. Y'know, the one that I found most promising to develop further.

Well, I didn't – so, you'll just have to imagine how it looked like.

I'm sure this sounds like the stuff from some poorly screenplayed science fiction movie, or the mindless verbal rambling of a voodoo hierophant who's probably tripping balls on magic mushrooms. However, I'm afraid that I'll have to let you down on your vivid speculations about the origins of this concept. It was very real. We found something similar applied to safes and vacuum containers, and such, with more or less sophisticated mechanisms, that might have worked with our sheet metal cabinet. The only catch with all the mechanisms was that they seemed to require lots of time to design, especially to get the dimensions exact – and this project was little by little running out of time. Our cabinet door required something sturdy, like the hinges on a huge cast iron safe. The weight of the door, fully assembled, approximated near thirty kilos already. On the other hand, we needed something compact, in order to squeeze the hinges in the formidably narrow space between the outer sheet metal casing and the doorframe of steel.

For some peculiar reason, this project suddenly started to feel like the biggest wild goose chase in the history of gun cabinets...but, like I said: after an extensive online research, we finally came across such a sophisticated mechanism, that seemed appropriate for our needs, with just a few minor modifications. It called for an infinite amount of trials and errors to dimension right, but we gave it a go, anyway. The margin to have each component in our cabinet assembly in working condition by the deadline was getting incredibly small, and risk assessment probably wasn't our strong point. We took on a challenge, only to fail in the most beautiful fashion. Obviously, this particular hinge design proved way too sophisticated to execute in the given time. Eventually, we had to face the facts, discard this fancy hi-tech mechanism, and go for the second best option. Just twelve hours before the deadline for the final submission, I basically had to witness my deep faith in humanity disappear into the ether, as this issue with the hinges turned out to be such a gift that just kept on giving. I resolved this problem with a straightforward and brutal solution: by thrusting a simple rod of steel vertically through the door, attached with a pair of bronze sliding bearings. After that, I extruded a couple of additional holes in the doorframe – and voilá! The cabinet design was complete. This impromptu change of plans, conducted in the very last minute of the project, obviously compromised the original idea for an idiot-proof cabinet door, but we really had no choice.

Maybe next time we'll be equipped with more profound wisdom and battle-hardened experience, so that we'll be able to execute more informed choices. This project was supposed to be a crash course in the wonders of sheet metal design, and provide us with some hands-on experience with the topic. In practice, it was more like an experiment in the dark forests of the human mind. In this respect, however, we did quite well. Yes, the design process turned sour and frustrating at times, or to put it in a more evocative wording – it was a genuine pain in the ass, but did we die? Nope. It certainly is a very human trait to lose focus and give up, after reaching the ultimate frustration point. On several occassions, during this endeavour in psychological torture, I was tempted to take a Big Lebowskian stance, let go and cry out:

”Fuck it, let's go bowling!”

But I didn't.

Of course, I can only speak for myself, when I say that out of sheer hatred towards anything even remotely related to sheet metal, I forced myself to complete this assignment – like, when the software crashed on me for the fifth time during the course of just a few hours. My immediate urge, more often than not, was to smash the computer screen with a baseball bat, when things didn't quite go as planned. But, instead, I manouvered myself into a kind of zen state of mind. Of course, my mind was not completely empty, like in a genuine higher state of consciousness. It was actually pretty full – filled with some explicit thoughts, certainly Not Safe For Work environment, but I guess it's safe to say that these thoughts mostly hinted that I was not going to let a stupid machine get the best of me. Well, I have 15 years' worth of experience in logistics, so I guess I am more resilient to stress than the average person. I have worked for Satan himself, in a most high-stress job you can imagine. So, as an afterthought, I guess this project was actually fairly easy on me. It was challenging in many respects, but eventually the project design was completed with not much collateral damage.

Maybe this chunk of metal does not provide enough ground to build a profitable business model on it, but it just might suggest a novel and street smart way to store away your firearms. I'm sure you could get a bigger and standardized cabinet for almost the same amount of money, but then again: who actually needs to possess more than four pieces, anyway? If you feel a sting in your heart, when I say this, maybe you should ask yourself:

Did Jeffrey Epstein really kill himself?

Am I just preparing for the zombie apocalypse?

I would guess that no one in his, or her, right mind really needs five or more firearms. For those of us, who need a cool storage application for max. 4 guns, I designed this shiny little sheet metal beast. I am still entertaining the possibility, that this boutique cabinet might have an enticing appeal to those of us, who prefer a highly customised luxury approach, rather than a generic application of nothing special, dashed out for mass production in the sweatshops of the third world countries. Obviously, this design philosophy did not quite exclude the need to take the ease and cost of manufacture into account – and that's what I did.

I refrained myself from integrating overly complicated shapes, just for the sake of appearance. Every bend in the sheet metal structure was well-thought out. Maybe I could have done with less welding seam, but I opted for reinforced safety. Remember, the primary goal was to enhance the possibility to come up with an idio-proof cabinet design. You see, idiots and guns don't really mix that well. It sounds like common knowledge, but as we all can see in the nine o'clock news on a daily basis, not many are catching up...

From the very outset of this project, I tried to view this cabinet design through the imaginary lens of the potential customer. I dare to guess, that the most likely candidate to purchase a weapon storage application of this caliber (pun intended!) would be a white, heterosexual Finnish male going in his late 50's. This stereotypical character resides somewhere in the back of beyond, in the most rural areas of Finland, in the hard core of the Baby Boomers paradigm, that is the classic ”rintamamies”-house, built in the 1940's. Our protagonist here presents the Jungian archetype of a DIY-handyman, with a passion for hunting wild game in his spare time. He is quite an active and respected member of society – the local hunting society, in particular. He's got his mortgage paid off by now, which means that he can very well afford to treat himself to something special, every once in a while – like, a brand new, state-of-the-art gun cabinet, because the old one is...well, old. With this in mind, I decided to design this cabinet for the higher price range. I rest assured that the hefty price tag would be justified by the extra emphasis on security. I wanted to take my cabinet design to the next level, and to some degree, I guess I succeeded. After all, it usually is a tell-tale sign of an amateur-at-work to compete on price. I opted for excellence without compromise. All too many gun cabinet manufacturers seemed not. The vast majority of the products on the gun cabinet market seemed to capture the ethos of the classic one-liner, said by the American musical genius Frank Zappa, back in the day:

”If we can't be free, let's at least be cheap.”

For many, this kind of an approach seemed to be a very viable option in a gun cabinet design. I'm sure it can be a convenient philosophy in life, in general – as it seems to be for many, too. It was never an option for this particular design project, to say the least. I am a firm believer, that you are the sum of all the experiences you go through, as well as the people around you. Being surrounded by dysfunction and incompetence will eventually get you nowhere. At the end of the day, with all the designer's blocks and frustrations dealt with, after getting strangled in a multitude of loose ends, for God knows how many times, overcoming the obstacles in this ”joint” venture eventually provided me with a sense of pride in a job well done. My gun cabinet might not become a nifty prototype for a potential customer product, but nevertheless, I came up with something unique. The technical documentation of this project design might seem like a white paper on how to ruin a perfectly promising raw idea, but then again....there is no such thing as perfection, when it comes to rushing things to completion, especially, when it's not something you're doing by choice.

In retrospect, with the hinge issue aside, the design for this cabinet evolved pretty smoothly and effortlessly. The double-layered steel chassis took maybe a couple of days to sketch, model and annotate – just like most of the other components did too. Believe me, it's not an understatement, when I tell you that 90 percent of this project consisted of figuring out how to make a double-action hinge work in a desired way. Maybe it could serve as a topic for further development. It probably would require quite a few iterations to configure the mechanism to work perfectly in the context of this gun cabinet. With this project, though, I had to rush the design to meet the deadline. Thus, I cannot say for certain, whether this sheet metal cabinet will perform as desired, or if it has any of the enhanced technical value I opted for. Chances of true success might be minimal, respectively. With the benefit of doubt, however, I dare to suggest that the original objectives of this project could still be accomplished through the application of such customised hinge mechanism. Now, we'll probably never know.

Unless, of course, the conservative dark forces are going to bring back the good ol' times, and I can have another go at this...

Or, maybe not...

I thank you dearly for your time and patience. If you wish to ask me anything about this project, I will gladly answer. Of course, it would be more convenient to continue with the technical and psychological nuances of this project over a pint of beer...but alas, the school cafeteria does not have the licence to sell alcohol. Well, anyways...knock yourselves out.

Ok, that's about it. Now I'm excited to pass the torch on to the next project team: the podium is all yours.

Arrivederci!

It remains to be seen, how my English teacher reviewed this presentation. Most likely, the required level of formality was not reached, which might be reflected in my English grade. However, I think that there is only a narrow window of opportunity to make a lasting impression, in the everyday interaction with the people around you. I would guess, that this presentation will not be as easily forgotten as the ones peppered with rambling formalities. My last Powerpoint slide, that was depicting the benefits of this design project, was basically just a picture of a giant facepalm. Try erasing that mental image from your mind now, eh!

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kaypeace21 · 6 years ago

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Okay but if Will does get taken by the government with El because Joyce signed a dodgy document before s2 then we're probably gonna get 3 awful things that WILL kill me: 1) Her screaming and being physically restrained from going to him, directly paralleling when Bob died, 2) Hopper also gave information on his child to the government before he adopted her, so both will have much guilt, ow, 3) Brenner's emotional manipulation AF like 'your parents practically gave you away' I am not ready

1) Oh. Interesting- but do you know what would be sadder that might be the actual callback they do. The scene in s1, when everyone thought Will was dead “gone”. Aka mothers hugging their sons.

Jonathan and his mom (after Will’s ‘death’)

Mike and his mom (after Will’s ‘death’)

so… Yeah, Will & his mom hugging may be brought back as a visual cue…of that loss and dispair

2) Hopper’s probably going to die, unfortunately. Theory here. Brenner is trying to kidnap children with the least amount of backlash- in a ‘legal’ way. In the prequel novel ‘Suspicious Minds’ Hawkins lab made the adult subjects also sign non-disclosure agreements however they didn’t read the fine print either. So when Dr Brenner, finds out that Alice (an adult) has powers, this is when the he essentially legally kidnaps her as her ‘psychiatrist’.

- “We’re here for Alice Johnson. I have paperwork that authorizes us to take her into the custody of Hawkins National Laboratory. Commitment paperwork”

-Commitment paperwork- a legal process through which an individual who is deemed by a qualified agent ( Dr. Brenner, the psychiatrist) to have symptoms of a severe mental disorder and is ordered by a court into treatment in a psychiatric hospital or in the community.

So essentially Joyce signed paperwork, that the second it’s verified he has powers, under the law there is nothing she could do to get him back – she inadvertently gave custody of her son to a monster. And everyone would buy the story, his own school knows he goes to monthly psychiatry appointments- he’s had meltdowns in public (like on Halloween).And his mother has been rumored to have psychiatric problems herself. He’s an evil genius!

And , if Hopper dies who will get custody of El? The united states government! And who works the united states government -that’s right Dr Brenner! You can read more about Will and El being kidnapped theory here.

3) Yes, he will 100% use this against them. I briefly talked about the emotional manipulation Brenner would do to them in s4 here.

But to add more to that post.After reading ‘suspicious minds’ - it just reiterates the theme of ‘house of stairs’ (a novel referenced in the Will comic). Brenner’s plan will be condition the children to start subconciously doing small commands, and slowly escalating it to more significant commands, then bringing out their more violent tendencies so he can shape them into violent weapons who will only attack under his command. I’m still withholding a lot of plot points for my masterpost-theory for s4 but here’s a little taste… from the ST prequel novel…

Becoming Weapons

- “When it’s our government involved, I think you’ll find our rights are often to be determined.”

-“So…do you guys think it’s odd that the feds would be spending time on this with the war going on? Shouldn’t they be working on weapons or something instead?” Ken lowered his voice, even though they were alone. “Maybe they are.” Terry scoffed, “Is it me or Alice who’s the weapon? Or Gloria?”

-”then Terry’s boyfriend said that thing about weapons and she had realized maybe she was beginning to feel more like a weapon.”

-He came to her side. “I’m going to need you to lay back for a few minutes while we add a new…treatment.” “You want to turn me into a machine,” Alice said. “But I already am one. We all are.”

Brenner (The psychiatrist)

- “I’d spoil the experiment if I told you. I’m going to need you to take my word for it that our work here it’s crucial to the safety of our nation. It can’t be disrupted for any reason.”

–“The hospital gowns they were forced to wear during the experiments were an affront to dignity. This was a fact, not just Gloria’s opinion. She could’ve done a double-blind peer-reviewed study to prove it.” (Gloria was studying biology in college, so she knew what she was talking about.)“

-Brenner took her arm and marched her back to her room, where he kept her awake for the next thirteen hours, refusing to let her sleep. ( common technique of mind control, and to get people to admit wrong doing, it’s considered a form of torture).”

- “We’ve given you a powerful hallucinogenic. We have evidence it can open the mind to suggestibility.”

- “make them suggestible and exert control…But we can’t get the results we want without the right people, period… It is nothing to manipulate a weak mind. We need those with potential.”

-”She’d feel much lighter. The first stage to creating a mind susceptible to greater manipulations.”

- “Dr. Martin Brenner wished he could see inside the minds of the subjects. No messy conversation to extract what they might or might not have seen, how effective the hypnotic techniques had been… “

-”Brenner didn’t understand children, because he didn’t feel like he’d ever been a child. He’d considered kicking Terry out. But he’d invested too much effort and already she seemed more malleable.”

- “But they’re experimenting with our memories, our minds —it makes sense they’d want to control us. If they could use regular people to do their dirty work…”

- “What transpires here will be a secret. You will maintain this knowledge and complete a task without discovery, but you will have no memory of me requesting it”

-”Having powers put you in danger. Even being near people that had powers put you in danger. And being discovered by people who wanted to control those powers put you in even more. Of that she was certain.”

-”Men like Dr. Martin Brenner got you in their clutches and didn’t let you go, especially if you made enemies of them. They could fight him, and they would, but they might lose. She wanted to know how hard he’d work to keep them under his thumb.”

-”She already felt confident that Dr. Brenner was no Professor Xavier to mentor anyone.”

Will will be El’s greatest weakness- and Brenner will use this against her to keep her from rebelling

*Brenner’s conversations with or about Terry (El’s mom)

-“He’d underestimated her.He needed to get her back under control.The best way to do that was to distract her, give her bigger problems. He knew everything she cared about most, because she’d told him. The solution was obvious.”

-“Russians have developed a theory that mothers and their children have a mental link with each other…in different rooms they killed the babies to see if the mother felt it… killing rabbits, like keeping children prisoner for experiments.”

-”Brenner gazed at her steadily. “I bet you don’t know what you’d do without him. Say it. That you don’t know.” She couldn’t seem to stop herself. “I don’t know what I’d do without Andrew.” He smiled at her. “Now, close your eyes and go deeper like a good girl. I’m done with you for today.”

Forcing Will to do LSD to manipulate him and strengthen his powers

-”We have a few more young patients transferring here for a related program, but I’d like a range of ages. There is every reason to believe that a combination of chemical psychedelics and the right inducements can unlock the secrets we need.”

- “Then there was Brenner’s use of the word “cocktail.” What exactly was in the Hawkins special acid blend? “Who has the medical cocktail?”

-”She nodded and handed the glass back, smoothing soaked hair away from a cheek shiny with moisture. Tears and sweat both. Extremely susceptible to the drug cocktail.”

*cough* Will’s comic*

His name is Martin Brenner- the comic draws Will with a ‘cocktail’/martini… thanks I hate it -_-

Do you know what’s worse? The book ‘House of Stairs’ also has other darker elements, I didn’t even get into… like s4 is going to kill me. It will be waaaay worse for Will and El then s3 will be . I CAN’T! They’ll survive but-

#will byers #joyce byers #el hopper #stranger things theory #jane hopper

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fatrainbowmermaidunicorn · 6 years ago

Text

Girls Like You (Jungkook x You ONESHOT) (M)

A/N: This is my first full blown smut fic ever. Thank you anon for making me sin. And sorry this took so long. I need to find the courage to actually write a sentence that has my precious bunny and the word cock together. hahaha. 😂😂😂 As a reminder like always, I am not good in smut so please, show me some mercy, and you are welcome to skip the smut part if its too cringe worthy, the story would still be relevant. And yeah, as this is my first smut, the scenes are still quite vanilla. imma keep the nasty stuff for later. hahaha

MASTERLIST

Jungkook slide his cock a few more times inside her wet, tight center, his face scrunched up in pleasure before he pulls out and crawl on top of her, thighs on both sides of her face, pumping himself directly to her mouth.

"Open wide for me baby. Tounge out,"

Obident as she has always been, Y/N quickly darted out her tounge like a starved man waiting for Jungkook to fill her mouth up with his creamy bitter liquid. Jungkook wrapped his hand around his rigid cock and pump a few more times before shooting up his load on the tounge that is laid out in front of him. Just like the good girl that she is, Y/N swallows everything without question, licking her lips when she's done and open up her mouth to show that she has swallowed it all like a good obidient girl.

"That was amazing as always baby girl," Jungkook smirked as he reached out on top of her head and released her bound wrist from the leather that held it to the headboard. He swiftly starts to put his boxers back on and button up his shirt, looking at Y/N who just flashed him an obligatory smile, slowly pulling up the blankets to cover her naked and dirty body that has been throughly used by him just minutes ago.

"Here's something for you," he throws a wad of cash on the bedside table. "I wont be coming tomorrow night. As usual. So you dont have to wait for me. Use the money to go shopping or something," he smile and without even looking back he walks out from her room and her apartment, leaving Y/N alone in the luxurious apartment, feeling disgusted with herself like she always does whenever he leaves after getting his way with her.

Living a life as a sugar baby is not something Y/N has ever imagined herself being. In fact, she felt disgusted by her friends who proudly brags about the expensive jewellery or holiday trips their supposed daddies, boyfriends, sir or whatever it is that they call them, has brought for them. All those luxuries comes with a price of course. A price they dont seem to mind paying at all.

Their body.

"Oh come on Y/N. Its just sex. And you are doing it with a young, hot and wealthy man anyway, not some old perverted hag. You are the one who is getting more of the advantage actually, you get both money and pleasure," Min Hwa grins at her. Min Hwa is one of her first friend since she entered college, she dont really considered them to be best friends, but Y/N do talk and spend a lot of time with her. And ever since Min Hwa has been in the sugar baby scene, she has a lot more money to spend on her friends for coffee and snacks sessions, and who is Y/N to say no to free food. Her starving student ass could never resist that.

Min Hwa always talk, no, bragged, about how great it is to be a sugar baby, especially when her daddy is some young hot shot CEO who has too much money to waste. Y/N never fail to cringe whenever she talks about it but today... well its different. Today, this topic sparks her interest.

As a medical student studying to be a doctor, her years of studying is long and expensive. With a sick mother and two younger siblings to take care of, Y/N's part time jobs doesnt seem to cut it anymore. Quitting her studies is not something she wants to do, but is her dream big enough for her to hold on to to actually consider living the life like Min Hwa?

"Really Y/N. You are absolutely hot! Look at your face. Your body! You can get in no problem. And let me tell you a secret," she leaned in closer. "Jungkook is looking for another baby girl for him," she giggles, making Y/N swallow nervously. Is this her friend's way to help her find a solution to finance her study and family? Somermthing suddenly spark her curiousity.

"Wait. Isnt this Jungkook your boyfriend or whatever you call him?"

"He is not my boyfriend Y/N. I just calls him Jungkook and sometimes daddy in bed," she winked. "But never ever calls him oppa or you will be punish. He hates that the most. Not that I mind being punished by him," she lets out a laugh as Y/N just stare at her. Is she for real right now? Is it that fun to have sex for money? "And to answer your question, yes. Why?"

"You mean... you are not the only girl he do this... arrangement with?" Min Hwa shakes her head.

"Of course not. He is young and absolutely delicious looking. He is freaking hot Y/N. You should see him. Not to mentioned he is incredibly rich. Money means nothing to him. Of course I am not the only girl. Even I would get myself a barrage of girls if I am him,"

"And you dont mind this? Sharing him?" Min Hwa shrugged as an answer.

"Nope. Not at all. Its not like he is my boyfriend Y/N. He buys me things and gives me money for whatever I need. And my job is to make sure he is satisfied whenever he comes to see me and that is all there is to it," she swirled the straw in her drink. "Besides, Jungkook keeps an open relationship with his girls. We are free to meet other boys and we can end the agreement whenever we decide to get serious with someone else,"

"Oh... that's interesting," Y/N nodded her head. That really is. She felt a little more relaxed an assured upon hearing that. So this Jungkook is not some kind of a sex crazed monster then. Usually, the stories she heard about this type of relationship, if you can even call it that, is more possesive and one sided. The girl wont usually be allowed any other interaction with other males. But then again the man dont usually have many girls at the same time. Maybe that's why this Jungkook doesnt mind? Because who knows how many girls he has to keep him company anyway?

"Jungkookie only has one crucial rule though. Never fall in love with him. If you do, the arrangement is over immediately," Min Hwa warned.

"Does that ever happen?" Y/N is curious. How can anyone ever falls in love with a cold man who uses his money to pay young girls for pleasure? "His girls falling in love with him?"

"Oh babe. You cant imagine how many did. Jungkookie is sweet. He treats you nicely. He talks to you and ask you about your day and he will make sure not to cross any of your boundaries. Not to mention he is extremely, and I repeat, extremely, good and amazing in bed," Min Hwa winked. "So Y/N, are you in?"

And that is how Y/N ends up underneath Jungkook one week later.

Their first meeting was a little awkward. Of course it is. She is meeting with some stranger to have sex with him. For money. But Min Hwa was right. Jungkook makes her feel comfortable, he talks to her, asking about her interests and even making small jokes to ease up the tension. And not to mention incredibly good looking. Her heart slightly beat faster when he flashed her a smile and it almost burst everytime their bare skin accidenrally touched

"I only have a few conditions Y/N, if you may call it that," he flashed her a cute bunny smile, something that makes him look so innocent if not for the knowledge of what they are discussing right now. Y/N nodded as a sign for him to proceed.

"One, I can come and go whenever I want and whenever I do come, you will always be ready for me. I will tell you beforehand if I'm not coming on certain days so that you can make your own plans," Y/N nodded. Sounds reasonable.

"Two, this is strictly a sex relationship. You are free to meet anyone else that you one but if you do sleep with them, you need to wear protection and inform me about it," Well, nothing to worry about there. Y/N has only ever did it a few times and that is only with her first boyfriend a long time ago. Its already hard enough for her to decice to sleep with one guy, let alone multiple partners? Not likely going to happen.

"Three, I like to, you may call it, experiment in bed, so you will tell me if anything I want to do is too much for you and I will stop. Dont ever be afraid to tell me that. Its not just about my pleasure. Its about yours too," he smile and Y/N's heart beats faster. Can someone like him actually be caring?

"Four, the moment you agree, I will be giving you an apartment to live in and a car. The car will be under your name. Which you do not have to return when we end this arrangement. It will belong to you. I will also give you monthly expenses and extra bonus for everytime we fucked," Y/N cringe at his vulgar choice of words but what can she do. He is only saying the truth. That is what she is here for. To fuck.

"And finally, five. This is the most crucial rule. Do not, under any circumstances, fall in love with me. Or catch feelings or whatever you call it. If I found out, this arrangement ends immediately, no questions asked," Y/N nodded. Well, Min Hwa has warned her about that before.

"Any question?"

"Uh n-no sir," she shakes her head.

"Call me Jungkook," he smiles. "But you can call me sir in bed if you prefer," he winks.

/////

"Fuck, you are so fucking tight Y/N. I should have known that from the innocent look you gave me today, nobody has ever fucked you this good isnt it? Its alright daddy will take care of you," Jungkook pants as he slide his cock in and out her drenched pussy. One hand holding the back of her knee to make sure she wrapped it tight around his waist while the other is holding the headboard tightly, to help bracing himself as he rammed continuosly into her. Y/N was lost for words. The white hot pleasure surging through her leave her speechless. With the way Jungkook occasionally take a hard nipple in his mouth, rotating from one side to another, suckling and teasing the hard nub, the way his fingers rub her clit so fast, all the while his cock keeps on thrusting into her, Y/N feels like dying from the extreme pleasure.

"I-I'm coming Jungkook. Fuck,"

"Come baby girl. Let me feel you all over my cock," he leans down and start kissing her neck, one hand going between their sweaty bodies to rub her engorged clit faster and faster, and in no time at all Y/N was clenching all over his cock, her orgasm coming in multiple wave. Her loud moans being captured by Jungkook mouth as he keeps thrusting into her through her orgasm. Feeling her walls clenching tightly around him is too much for Jungkook to handle and he quickly pulls himself out.

"On your knees,"

Confused at his demand at first, Y/N finally crawled in front of him and kneeled down, hands obidiently folded in her lap as Jungkook hastily stroked his cock up and down, sweat dripping from his forehead to his delicious abs.

"Fuck, here it comes babygirl," He finally shoots his load onto her face, white sticky liquid smeared everywhere from her hair down to her chin. Jungkook pants from the satisfying pleasure he just experienced and flopped down on the bed. "You look gorgeous with my cum on your face baby girl," he grins and heads out to the bathroom.

Shaken by her first experience of sleeping with this incredibly handsome and not to mention talented man, Y/N sat at the corner of the bed, waiting for him to get out from the bathroom, still confused and not knowing what she can and couldnt do. This is their first time together after all. Jungkook came out from the bathroom already fully dressed and chuckle at the sight of Y/N, still fully naked with his cum on her face sitting like a good girl she is on the bed waiting for his next instructions, her arms shyly covering her bare chest. Seeing her looking all wide eyes and innocent, staring up at him makes his cock stirred again but he knows once is enough for her tonight. It is their first time together afterall.

Maybe he can trained her to take more later.

"Why are you just sitting there?"

"I-uh I dont know what I'm supposed to do. What I am allowed to do," she answered, looking down at her fingers. Jungkook chuckles. How can someone so sweet and innocent be willing to be involved in something like this? With someone like him?

"You can go clean yourself up babygirl. I think I have tire you enough for tonight," he smiles and Y/N quietly stood up and went into the bathroom. After a quick shower and changing into a set of fresh and clean clothes, Y/N went out only to find the apartment empty and a stack of cash on her night table, and she has never ever felt more dirty.

/////

Jungkook came over quite often after that night, which surprises her. Min Hwa told her before that Jungkook had different girls for every day of the week and he will only visit them once a week, on their designated day. But Jungkook never say anything to her, nor has he set a specific day for her. It has been a month and he has come to her for almost every night.

Nights with Jungkook were never boring. Sure, she still feels dirty and guilty after but she cant deny the pleasure Jungkook gave her every night, or the multiple pleasure he gave her on some nights. Jungkook is amazing in bed, he taught her various new things, experimenting with toys and things Y/N never even know existed. But that wasnt the best part for her. To her the best part is after all the sweaty and dirty sex they have, the part when Jungkook is willing to stay over and would let her cook up some ramen or heat up some leftovers and they would sit on the kitchen bar, talking about each other's life.

Y/N never expected a sugar daddy relationship to be like this. She always thought its all about the pleasure and the money, no in betweens. But after a month of late night talks, she realizes Jungkook is nothing like the man she imagined him to be. He is funny, interesting, childish, competitive, smart and creative. He is a man who have dreams and fears. Shredding the expensive suits, the shiny watches and devilish smirk, Jungkook is only just a normal ordinary man, and that is the part of him that she likes best.

/////

"H-how was your day today?"

Five words were stuttered to him. Five words that change everything he thought he knew. Five words that Y/N said to him after one of their steamy nights as he is tying his expensive leather shoes, ready to leave. Five words that is softly uttered to him, laced with fear of him flipping out from the question, by the girl who was wrapped only in the blanket over her naked body, peering behind the wall, eyes innocently wide. Five words that makes him stop what he is doing and turn back inside.

No one. No one has ever asked him that question. No one ever cares how his day has gone by. All the people around him only cares about how many millions did he gain today? How many projects did he get his hands on today? Is he interested in some new land? The girls he fucked only cares about the jewelleries he bought them. The fancy new dress he will bring them. The branded handbags he will purchase for them. Nobody cares if he has eaten, or if he is feeling well or if the world around him chewed him up today. For years Jungkook tries to find salvation from his lonely life in the form of shallow entertainment, getting drunk and high, taking advantage of the girls that is blinded by his wealth, when all he ever wants is someone to talk to. Someone who is really willing to listen to him. Someone who actially cares.

And when Y/N looks back at him with her innocent wide eyes, hands nervously gripping the sheets covering her body, slightly shaking from fear of upsetting him, the sincerity of her question shone through, Jungkook knows he has finally found that someone.

So he keeps coming back.

Without realizing, a month has passed by where he had spend most of his nights with Y/N instead of his other daily girls. He feels lighter whenever he came by, and its not just because the things they do in bed, and trust him, Y/N is amazing in bed. Shy at first, now she seems to be more into it, willing and eager to try eveeything he suggested. It makes him extremely happy to see her enjoy herself. In fact, unlike with how he usually is with his other girls, Jungkook seems to focus more on bringing her the pleasure instead of thinking of what he wants and what he needs first.

"You look pretty," he smiles at Y/N who just came out from the bathroom after their mind blowing fuck session together, drying her hair, dressed in a very simple night gown. Most of the girls he slept with will wrapped themselves in expensive silk and complucated designs. Designs that are supposed to interest him, supposes to make him wants them even more, but he never even batt them an eye. All of them are just the same to him. Willing to be fucked as long as he pays for it. How is it that this girl who is dressed in a very simple white cotton night gown managed to make his cock stir again? Making his heart beats faster? Jungkook tries to pushed his desire aside but when Y/N actually blush from his compliment, none of his girls are innocent enough to blush from a simple compliment, Jungkook knows he is already gone.

He immediately stood up, making the silky sheets thats covering his naked body slide off, revealing taut muscle and his red hard cock, already weeping, hard and ready for another round, making Y/N's eyes widen as she gazed at the beautiful man stalking towards her.

"How are you doing this to me?" His voice is raspy and ragged with lustful breath as he leans and hungrily captured her lips with his. Y/N was beyond surprise. During the time they had spend together, Jungkook never once kissed her. Kissing means feelings he said. Kissing means intimacy. Kissing meant someone special and none of them are that to him. That is what he said. So why is he kissing her now? Y/N doesnt have the time to ponder about his real reason as he starts to bit her lower lips and his tounge proding her mouth, asking for entrance which she immediately allows. Jungkook taste sweet, with a mix of alcohol and mint and all around just pure Jungkook. A taste so intoxicating and heavenly, Y/N knows she is already addicted to.

"Take it all off for me baby," Without hesitation Y/N slides down the straps of her night gown and let the material pool at her feet. Revealing herself bare except for a matching white cotton panties she wore underneath. Jungkook drink in every little skin that is revealed to him and leans closer, lowering his head to her breast, capturing one hard nub, suckling a hard nipple in his mouth, making Y/N moan louder and louder, her hands trying so desperately reaching for the walls behind her for support before her weak knees gives out on her. Jungkook continues his ministration, switching from one nipple to other while his fingers deftly grazed her clothed core, making her breath nkre raghed at his touch.

"J-jungkook,"

"God. I love it when you moan my name baby girl. But I think you can go loider than that. And I surely can make it louder," he smirked and swiftly went down on his knees placing his nose between her legs right where ahe wants him the most and inhaled her intoxicating smell.

"Ermmm I love that smell baby girk. The smell that shows just how wet you already are for me," Y/N can already feel herself getting wetter just from his words and apparently Jungkook can see it too by the wet patch forming on her clean white panties. Without waiting for an answer, he pulls her already ruined panties down her leg, revealing her drenched pussy to him.

"So beautiful. Always so beautiful," he whispered loud enough for her to hear as he uses his thumb and forefinger to spread open her pussy lips and give a small soft kiss to her clit.

"J-jungkook!"

"You like that baby hmm?" Y/N can feel him smiling as his warm wet tounge start to lick a broad stripe before he increases his speed and lapped up her whole sex, slowly and soft at first and slowly start to pick up the pace. Y/N feels like losing her mind at the pleasure, her hands starts to pull on his hair as Jungkook suckle on her already engorged clit. It didnt take her long to reached her orgasm, releasing her juice all over Jungkook's tounge and face, which he happily lapped up as she rode her high. He stood up with a smile and face her, licking the corner of his mouth, turning her on even more.

"Your taste is addictive baby," Y/N was panting, too caught up in her strong orgasm that she didnt resist when Jungkook kissed her again, hungrily, tounge proding into every inch of her mouth, making her taste herself before spinning her around, pinning her chest to the wall. She can feel his hard cock grazing the curve of her ass and Jungkook pushed her back to make her bend over. He sticks his chest on her back, placing his face only a centimeter from hers, his warm breath and his scent sending tingle to her whole body.

"Tell me you want me baby girl. Tell me. I want to hear you say it,"

"I-I want you Jungkook. Please. Please fuck me,"

Jungkook lost all control at her words and immediately slide his cock fully into her, thrusting slowly at first, trying to enjoy the feel of her warmth walls enveloping him. He round his hands over her body and cupped both of her breasts, fingers twiddling with her nipples making her moan louder.

"You like it baby? You like me fucking you from the back againsts this wall? You want me to fuck you harder?" Jungkook growled as he starts to kiss the side of her neck, biting and grazing his teeth against it. "Tell me. Tell me what you want!"

"Yes Jungkook. Yes. Fuck me harder, please. Oh god!" Jungkook immediately picks up his pace, thrusting and pounding into her fast and hard, the only sounds filling the room is their mixed ragged breaths and moans. Jungkook can feel her getting closer and closer by the sound of her breath and how tight she is clenching around him. One hand reached down her body and start to rub her clit fast and hard, helping her to reach her high, needing her to come first, to make sure she feels the pleasure first.

"Oh God Jungkook, I'm- ahhhh I'm coming,"

Her walls clenched so hard around him that Jungkook immediately releases himself inside of her a second later. Panting from their mind blowing orgasm, Jungkook turns her around and captured her lips for a long hard kiss, and once again, taking her by surprise.

Y/N closes her eyes as he moulded his soft lips against hers. She slowly kissed him nack, taking in every kittle taste of him that she could, deciding to just enjoy this moment. The moment that Jungkook really felt like he belong to her.

"Y/N?" A hand wave in front of her, startling her from her daydream. She snapped back to reality only to see her classmate looking at her weirdly, the class already empty. "Uh, class has been over for 10 minutes now and you have been staring at nothing for the whole two hours of lecture. Are you sure you are okay?" Y/N flashed her a smile and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah. I am totally fine. Just thinking about what to eat tonight," her friend looks at her, obviously not believing her lie but decides not to ask further. Y/N gathered her books and left the class, walking slowly back to her apartment. Well, Jungkook's apartment. Not that he has been around much lately.

Truth is, Jungkook is the one who has been plaguing her mind. She cant understand him at all. He came over almost every night for a month, take time to talk to her, get to know her and make her feel like they have some kind of a connection other than just sex for money, and he kissed her that night, and then he just left?

That night.

That night will be the night that Y/N will treasure forever. Jungkook made love, yes, she can finally calls it making love and not some raw fucking like he usually did this time, three times that night and he kissed her. Multiple times. She knows it must mean something to him too. She can feel it in his kiss and the gentle way he cuddles her between sessions.

But when she woke up the next morning, he was gone. No text, no note, no calls nothing. And she didnt hear from him for almost three weeks now. The only thing that confirms he is still well and alive is the fact that her account balance keeps on increasing.

What did she do wrong?

Has Jungkook finally had enough of her?

Just the thought make her heart clench. The thought that she might never see him again, talk to him, see his smile, hear his laugh, feel his touch. It scares her to no end. And thats when Y/N realizes she is fucked.

She fell in love with Jeon Jungkook.

And maybe he knows it too, and thats why he went away.

Y/N didnt have to wonder for long where he is when she saw his expensive Italian made shoes at the doorway. A huge smile immediately creeped up her face at the thought of seeing him. She misses him, and although she knows its wrong, she cant help it.

She's in love.

Her smile quickly dissappear when she take another step further into the apartment and saw two pairs of women's red high heels that definitely didnt belongs to her. Did Jungkook brought someone home? Its fine of course, it is his house anyway, but why would he bring his girls to where she is? After dissappearing for weeks? What is he trying to proof?

As she entered the living hall that is situated right in front of her bedroom, she can finally hear it. Two women's voices screaming out Jungkook's name and his ragged breathing. Is this really happening? Did Jungkook really brought back his girls to her place and fuck them in her bedroom? Of all places, her bedroom?

"Fuck Jungkook faster," a raspy women's voice scream out, which Y/N quickly named as women #1. Her heart starts to ache. "Oh god, Jungkook, you are eating me out so well, fuck baby," there goes women #2. She knows. She knows she is not the only one. That is fact. But must he do this to her?

She thought what they had, what she felt that night was special.

Maybe... maybe it really is just sex and what they had is really nothing special to him at all.

Y/N tried to calm her heart but it breaks into pieces with what she heard next.

"God, you are beautiful," Words that he used to say to her.

"Kiss me Jungkook," and wet sloppy sound of kisses filled the room. Y/N couldnt handle it. She really does mean nothing at all to Jungkook. Just another girl. Another sex doll to him. Those nights spend talking and revealing her heart apparently meant nothing special to him.

She is nothing special to him.

She braced herself and curled into a ball on the couch, waiting for them to be done, and thankfully it didnt take long. The two girls, hair and makeup ruined, smile shyly at her as they put on their shoe and pull on their dresses, adjusting it, somehow trying to make themselves look presentable enough for the outside world before they went out, locking the door behind her.

Jungkook came out a few second later, shirtless, hair messy, body filled with marks and scratches and he gave a cold glare as he noticed Y/N sitting on the couch. Y/N cant understand it. Why is he being so cold to her. What did she ever do to him that make him changed?

"Oh, you are back. Sorry, we borrowed your room, thought you will be in class all day," His words so cold, only giving her a side glance as he uttered the words.

"Y-yeah okay..."

"What's with you?" He asks questioningly as if he didnt do anything wrong. Well, come to think of it, he really didnt do anything wrong but why does Y/N's heart breaking?

"Me? What wrong with you?" Y/N find some courage to actually questioned him, something she has never done, not even once during their time together. Jungkook raised an eyebrow at her defiance.

"Are you... are you seriously defying me? Talking back to me?" He took a few steps closer towards her. Y/N gulped in fear. Despite everything she has been feeling for him, fear is still a big part of it.

"I-I'm just asking you. Yo-you didnt call or text for weeks and-"

"Baby girl is so feisty today," he smirked, taking long strides towards her, now already standing right in front of her, carressing her cheeks. Y/N, although scared and mad at him, feels herself gets weaker with his touch, leaning into his palm. God, she missed him. "Since when have you been such a naughty girl huh? You know daddy doesnt like that," Jungkook snarled and pull her down on the couch, laying her down on his lap. All thoughts of questions and anger flies out from her mind the moment Jungkook lifted up her skirt and carressed her ass, pushing down her panties to leaving it at her thights, restraining her movements, his hands palming her bare ass. "Such a beautiful sight. Too bad you have been a bad girl today, so you must received your punishment. Do you understand me? Hmmm?" Y/N can only moan at the sensation she felt as his palms keep carressing her ass cheeks. Shit, she can feel herself dripping on Jungkook's thighs.

"Answer when daddy ask you a question baby girl,"

"Y-yes daddy," Y/N can feel Jungkook's cock twitch when she called him what he wanted to hear and it just turns her on more. Pleasing him. Theres no bigger turn on than that in her books.

"Count," was what he said before his cold palm hits her bare ass, rotating from cheek to cheek leaving beautiful stinging red marks.

"O-one,"

"Hmmm, beautiful. Red is really your colour baby girl," Each spank he kanded on her will be accompanied with gentle carressed from Jungkook's cold hands, making her moan louder everytime, the sensation bringing both pain and pleasure to her.

"Fif-fifteen," her voice weak and the last slap hits her ass. Jungkook scooped her up and kiss her lovingly, tounge hungrily lapping hers before putting her down.

"You did great baby girl, and good girls shall be rewarded," Y/N eagerly nodded, willing to take whatever it is Jungkook's going to give her. She didnt know how did she become this pathetic, this desperate for a man's touch. But this is not just any man, this is Jeon Jungkook, and she is willing to do anything to feel his skin on hers.

"Get on all fours," Y/N quickly scrambled to get into position on the couch, her ass and pussy spread wide for Jungkook to see in that position. He lightly grazed her plush ass, giving it a kiss. "So soft, so beautiful, all mine, right?" Y/N nodded without a doubt, looking over her shoulders to see Jungkook pumping his already very hard cock, pre cum leaking from the tip. The sight make her even wetter, if that is even possible. He grazed the head of his cock around her drenched pussy, collecting all her wetness and slap her clit a few times with his cock. The sensation felt so good, Y/N almost felt like cumming right then and there.

"D-daddy, please," she keeps on begging, but he ignores her, continuing to tease her sopping pussy.

"Beg for dadd baby girl,"

"D-daddy please. I- want more,"

He finally have mercy on her and lined his cock to her entrance sliding in the head, fucking her shallowly.

"Do you think you deserve more? You think you deserve Daddy's cock tonight?" He lands another slap on her ass making her moan.

"Y-yes D-daddy. I've been good,"

"Hmm," he keeps on thrusting slowly, watching only the tip slides in and out of her. "You are right. You have been a good girl, and daddy promises good firls shall be rewarded," and slides himself fully in her. Y/N let out a loud moan at the sensation of him filling her up and Jungkook needs a minute to adjust himself as her tight walls starts to envelope him. "Fuck baby girl, you are so tight. You havent been fuck for a long time didnt you? Daddy is sorry he left you for so long baby girl. But Daddy will take care of you now," and with that he starts to thurst harder and harder, hands pressing on her back, burying her face in the couch. It didnt take long for the both of them to reached their peak, screaming each other's name as their explosive orgasm crashed through.

Jungkook and Y/N lay beside each other, panting. Jungkook kissed her sweaty forehead, a move that didnt go unnoticed by Y/N, making her feel like crying again. She wrapped the blanket around herself and finds the courage to open her mouth, to find the truth she has been seeking for.

"Wh-where did you go for the last three weeks?"

"I just had some things to do that doesnt concerns you," his cold exterior came back, the smile quickly vanish from his face. Y/N gulped at his cold respond and decides to ask something else instead.

"W-why did you bring those girls here?" Her voice small and anxious, afraid of what he might do or say. Jungkook immediately stood up and start to find his clothes. "Wait!" She panics. "Where are you going?"

"Just because I'm nice to you, you think you have the right to ask me questions? Who do you think you are? My girlfriend? You think you are special?!" He growled, hands stopping midway from buttoning his shirt, fuming with anger.

"N-no. But I thought-"

"Well, whatever you thought, you thought wrong!" He walks towards her, looming over her on the edge of the bed. "You are just one of the many girls that I fucked under a contract. For money. Dont even for a second think that you are special or different from any of them,"

"Jungkook, I just-"

"The fact that you actually agreed to this has already proof how you are just a shallow gold digger with no pride or self respect. Selling your body for money, and you thought I would see you as something special?" he lets out a sarcastic laugh. It hurts. His words hurts like crazy. Jungkook knows the reason why shes doing this. She told him during one of their late night talks. He also knows she never used his money more than what is necessary for her mother and her two siblings. She never asks for anything more from him. He knows all this but yet why is he saying all this things?

"Why are you even crying? Isnt what I said true?" He mocked.

"Why are you being like this?!" She screamed out. "This is not you. I know the real you Jungkook. You are not like this. Please, tell me whats wrong, I will help you go through it! But dont do this. Dont ruined what we had!"

"What we had? What the fuck are you talking about? You are delusional!"

"No Jungkook!" She cried out. "I know you felt it too!" Tears are already rolling down her cheeks. Who is she kidding? His word is more than just hurts her, it kills her. Jungkook scoffed.

"Just because we have a few talks you think you know me?" He lets out a dry laugh. "Everything I do is just a rust to get you into bed sweetheart," he smirked and carressed her cheeks, which is wet with tears.

"No. Th-thats not true. I know its not. Jungkook please,"

"I'm sorry you fell for it, but hey.. at least you get paid for it," he lets out a loud laugh, which sounds so evil, so sadistic to her ears.

"Why are you acting like this?" Y/N sobbed. "This is not you. This is not the Jungkook I fell in love with..."

Jungkook's eyes turned soft for a second, Y/N is sure she is not imagining it but it was gone in a matter of second, replaced by the cold hard glare.

"You love me?" He turns towards her and Y/N weakly nodded. No point of hiding that fact anymore. "Then, this arrangement is over sweetheart. Leave this apartment by tomorrow," he cupped her chin and looked into her eyes. Y/N stare into his brown doe eyes, hoping to find the Jungkook that she knows once again, but nothing. Only this monster remains. "Tsk, too bad. You are a good fuck too," was his last words before he walked out of the apartment, leaving Y/N crumpled alone on the floor.

/////

"I can obviously tell there's something bothering you," Taehyung walked into the large expensive mansion own by his childhood bestfriend, the most sought after billionaire Jeon Jungkook, careful not to step on the bottles of expensive wine, vodka and champange scattered on the floor. Taehyung lets out a small laugh at the sight of his friend in his silk custom robe, sprawled out on the large leather sofa. Even when he is getting shit drunk hes doing it with style and expensive alcohol.

Must be nice to be Jeon Jungkook.

"Go away Tae,"

"Sorry Kook. Not gonna happen," he flopped down beside the distressed man. "Whats going on? I have seen you went through hell and back and back again and never once were you like this. What could have happened that could make the mighty Jeon Jungkook holed up in his extremely expensive mansion?"

"I dont want to talk about it, go away Tae," he leans down to reached out to a half empty bottle of vodka but Taehyung snatched it away.

"Oh no no. Dont think you are getting off that easy. I'm not leaving until I get an answer and you know how persistance... and annoying I can be," he smirked. Jungkook sighed. Well, what Taehyung said is true. He is very, very annoying. Especially when he is trying to get what he wants. He wont stop until he succeeds. And right now he wants some answers from Jungkook. After much consideration and thinking, Jungkook accepted the fact that he has no choice if he wants Taehyung to leave. So he opens his mouth and start the to tell him the cause of the pain in his heart.

"Her name is Y/N..."

/////

"Well... I dont know what to say," Taehyung leans back into the couch after Jungkook finished off his story. So that's what it is. His friend is in love! Who would have thought. The news should have shocked Taehyung if he didnt know the sweet innocent Jungkook the boy used to be. The Jungkook that is capable of love and being loved. "What I dont understand is, why did you even say any of those things if you dont mean it?"

"I was scared okay? I have never, and I mean never felt like this before. The feeling of having someone actually cares for me, wanting to know me, worried about me. It feels strange Tae, but I- I like that feeling. The feeling of being loved," Jungkook sighed. "And that night... that night was the first time I kissed someone after a long time Tae. And it felt wonderful. It felt amazing. Its electrifying, it sends tingles through my whole body," Taehyung gaped at his friend. Is this really Jeon Jungkook? Talking to him about feelings?

"Everytime I look at her I feel like protecting her Tae. I want to give her everything that could make her happy. I hate to see her sad, even worse when she cries. It breaks my heart to see her in pain," he lowered his gaze to the floor.

"Tae?" Jungkook raised his head and finally looked into his friend's eyes after hours of swallowing in self pity. "Is this... is this what love feels like? Is this... is this what they called love?"

Taehyung chuckled out loud at Jungkook's question. His box smile showing. He finally see the innocent and adorable friend he met years ago when they were just little kids. The innocent and sweet boy, before life took a hard turn and change him into the cold wealthy man he is today.

"Yes Jungkook. It is safe to say that you are in love,"

/////

Jungkook stood outside the coffee shop, hands sweaty as he grip the bouquet of flowers in his hand. The cafe is filled with teenagers, college students mostly and he have never felt out of place. But if he wants Y/N back, then this is what he have to do.

"What are you afraid of? She herself told you she loves you and from the stories you told me about her, I dont think she's the type of person who change her heart so easily Kook. I'm pretty sure she still loves you. She just need to know that you love her,"

Well, at least that's what Taehyung told him. And up to that moment, Jungkook had believed that it might be true. But looking at Y/N expressionless place standing in front of him right now, he isnt so sure anymore.

Y/N cross her arms in front of her chest, foot tapping anxiously.

"What are you doing here Jungkook?"

"I-uh I came to see you,"

"Why?" Her cold respond makes him even more nervous than he already is. He have met thousands of the most important people in this world, but none had make him feel this nervous, small and insecure more than this simple girl in front of him.

"To... to say I'm sorry," Y/N raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry Y/N. For everything," She kept quiet for a moment before finally nodded.

"Fine. I accept your apology," Jungkook's heart almost stop. Did she really just forgive him just like that? After everything he said and done to her? "So please, dont show your face to me ever again. I dont want to see you and remind me of the biggest mistake of my life," she added before turning away. Her words hits him like a blade, piercing his heart. Jungkook immediately reached out for her hand, halting her from proceeding back into the shop.

"No, Y/N wait. Please," he plead. "Can... can we start over? Please? I want to make it up to you. To make things right. Please Y/N," Y/N sighed and close her eyes, Jungkook can see traces of tears starts to pool at the corner of her eyes when she opened them, making his heart hurt even worse.

"Please just leave me alone Jungkook. Please,"

"No!" Jungkook is determined. He finally know what love felt like and he is not going to let it go so easily. "No. I wont stop until you give me a chance Y/N. I realized it now. I was stupid. I was scared of my own feelings, and I hurt you, just because I was afraid. Please Y/N," Y/N didnt say anything but shakes her hand loose from his hold, turning away to leave him.

"Y/N, I love you!"

His sudden confession managed to make her stop in her tracks, turning around slowly. Tears are now trailing down her cheeks.

"Dont Jungkook. Dont insult my feelings like this!"

"No Y/N," he reached forward and hold one of her hand. "I love you. I am so desperately, madly in love with you. I'm sorry I didnt realized it sooner, admit it sooner. I am so so sorry. Please Y/N. Please give me a chance," he plead, sniffling as he tries to hold back his tears.

"No," that one word broke Jungkook into pieces. "No. I cant do this. I'm sorry," was all she said before she pulled back her hand and ran away as fast as she could from him.

"I wont give up Y/N. I wont lose you. I just cant lose you," Jungkook softly whispered between his uncontainable tears, but theres nobody there to hear it.

Jungkook came to the coffee shop everyday since then. Y/N could have just ignored it, but of course, being Jeon Jungkook, he have to go the extra mile and actually bought the whole freaking coffee shop and made sure no one else is allowed to come in except him. He also made sure that Y/N work on most hours, givinf her extra pay, knowing she needed it.And he just sits there all day long, staring at her. Y/N wanted to quit, she really really want to but the money is good and she cant afford to lose a job right now.

Y/N finally had enough when the second week of just sitting at the counter and having Jungkook stares at her all day rolled by and walked up to him. Furious and frustrated

"Alright. What the hell do you want?!"

"One date. I want you to go on one date with me," Y/N ponders on his word. The request seems simple enough.

"Just one date and then you will leave me alone?" Jungkook nodded, eyes bright with hope.

"Fine. One date. And thats it,"

/////

The dreadful day of the date finally came and Y/N was awaken bright and early by her doorbell. A man dressed in a perfectly tailored suit stood outside her door, smiling.

"Uh yes?"

"Good morning Miss Y/N," he beams and hands her a huge box. "With compliments from Mr Jeon," Y/N was surprised. What is all this about. What is Jungkook doing now?

"Uh thanks... I guess?"

"I will make sure Mr Jeon receives your thanks. And he also sends this," he motioned for someone to come over and another man suddenly came into the picture, holding the most beautiful and biggest arrangment of roses she has ever seen. "500 roses, to cheer up your morning," the man smile. "Thats all Miss Y/N. May you have a great day," he bowed and left, leaving Y/N speechless.

She placed the heavy bouquet of flowers inside her living room, stunned for a moment and curiously open the first box she received. If the flowers surprised her, whats inside the box makes her jaw dropped. Inside is the most beautiful dress she has ever seen, with matching shoes and a clutch bag. She picked up the note attached on the box.

"Dear Y/N,

I tried to find something to match your beauty, but nothing could compare to you. I hope this dress would suffice. Please wear it for our date tonight.

Love, JJK

Y/N smile a little at the cheesiness of the note and picked up the dress. It was beautiful, no doubt, but is it enough to make her forgive Jeon Jungkook?

/////

Jungkook arrived exactly on time that night. Impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that makes him look extremely mouth watering. Not that Y/N would ever tell him that. He smile as he take her hand and lead her inside the limousine. Yes, he came with a freaking limousine.

"You look beautiful Y/N," he beams and Y/N just gave him a small smile back. Jungkook tried to gave her the perfect date. Flowers, champagne, chocolates, candle light dinner at a 6 star restaurant where he had closed down for the night just for them. He even took her on a carriage ride to the deck, where he lead her up to his private yatch, and watch a huge firework show that he planned just for her. Everything was perfect, beautiful, just like in the movies, but everything seems so wrong. Is Jungkook really not the man she thought he is?

"Y/N? Are you not enjoying the date?" Jungkook asks, realizing her silence, brows furrowed with worry as they sit in the limo after coming down from the yatch. "Is there anything else I can do? Do you want a trip to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower? Or a romantic night in Venice? I could call my private jet and we could go right now. Tell me Y/N. I will give you anything you want. Please,"

"Just stop Jungkook. This isnt working. You are not the man I thought you are. The man that I fall in love with..."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Jungkook kneels down and hold her hands. "Show me Y/N. Show me how to be that man," Y/N ponders for a moment and a smile finally graced her lips.

"Stop the car," she said and took Jungkook's hands, leading him out.

"Where are we going?"

"I am going to show you the part of you that I fell in love with. The real you,"

"Are you having fun?"

"Oh my god. Yes! And can we please get another one of those cotton candy?" Y/N laughs at his request and nodded.

"Of course,"

Y/N had taken him, the most sought after billionaire in the world to a carnival slash arcade at the countryside. At first confuse, Jungkook is now enjoying every little thing there is to do at the place, laughing like little children as they tried each and every game. Exhausted after a whole night of laughing, they are now currenly sitting at a lake side, sitting on a grass eating take outs from McDonalds.

"I brought you to a 6 star restaurant and you barely touch your food, but you finished two burgers from McDonalds?" Jungkook glares at her.

"What can I say? I'm just a simple girl who enjoys simple things. Not firework watching on a private yatch and a Michellin star 6 course dinner Jungkook,"

Jungkook's eyes soften. "I'm sorry Y/N. For tonight," he sighed. "For everything..."

"Its okay," Y/N raised her head to look at him. "I just want you to see that you are so much more than your money. That I enjoyed our time together the best when we are doing things like this. Not everything is about your money Jungkook. And not everyone is all aboit your money too. You have so much quality to offer that makes you a great person. Qualities that make me fall in love with you," she averted her eyes. "I know that night... when you said those things to me... that wasnt you. The real you is the man whose eyes lights up when he talks to me about his dreams to become a musician, when he talks about his love for Iron Man," she chuckled, "That man... he is the real Jeon Jungkook. So... I forgive you Jungkook. For real,"

Jungkook's eyes brighten at her words, his bunny smile showing.

"But I also know that girls like me is not someone like you will look for and I'm okay with that. So Jungkook, thank you for tonight. Thank you for giving me one last chance to spend my time with the real you," she smile and was about to stand up and leave but Jungkook pulls her back down, his hand grasping hers tight.

"This is what I'm talking about Y/N. This is what makes it so difficult,"

"What do you mean?" Y/N looks at him confused.

"You were right. Girls like you are not suitable for me," Y/N nodded softly, eyes turning sad, but Jungkook cupped her chin and make her look straight into his eyes."Girls like you dont see me as just a meal ticket, a piece of meat. Girls like you take your time to see who I really am, to see the real me underneath all these cold and expensive masks I tried so hard to put on. Girls like you get to know me the way I dont even know myself. Girls like you... makes me realized there are people who actually cared about me. For the real me. Girls like you makes me smile during times I dont remember how to. Girls like you makes me forget the troubles that I have just by being next to me. Girls like you makes my heart beats faster just from the way they look at me. Girls like you makes me want to hurt everyone who ever make them cry. Girls like you makes me want to protect them, to care for them, to be there for them. Girls like you... makes me fall in love," Y/N was shocked. Is Jeon Jungkook trying to say he has fallen in love? It cant be real. It just cant.

"But..." his eyes dropped low, sadness shone in them although his hand never leaving hers. "Girls like you are sweet. They are pure and innocent. Girls like you are not meant to be in my world. My dirty, broken, damaged, world. Girls like you... guys like me... we dont deserve them. But Y/N," he lifted his head up and looks back into her eyes. "I'm a selfish man, I want something that I know I dont deserve and I am willing to give up everything for it," he peered into her already teary eyes.

"Is it okay Y/N? Is it okay for me to love a girl like you? To love... you?"

"J-Jungkook..." Her tears are already falling down her face with no intention to stop. Never had she imagined that he would say those words to her. Love. Jeon Jungkook loves her.

"Y/N?"

"Yes. Yes Jungkook," she smile between her tears, making Jungkook's heart beats like crazy at how beautiful she looks.

"I love you so much L/N Y/N. So so much. Thank you for loving me and showing me what love really is," he cupped her face softly and slowly leaned in to give the softest kiss she has ever received, filled with longing, hope and most of all, love.

Never in a million years would she have thought that a simple ordinary girl like her can make the Jeon Jungkook fall in love. But it turns out, girls like her is exactly what a boy like him needed.

#bts #bts fiction #bts scenario #bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan scenarios #bangtan seoyeondan #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #sugar daddy jungkook #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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marinette-sky · 6 years ago

Text

Incantation of the Heart

A/N: Hey guys! Its been awhile since I have posted any sort of writing or fanfiction here! I finally finished the first part to this ML magic au, and man let me tell you...this took forEVER! I got stuck on writing about clothing! Can you believe it?? But yeah, hope yall enjoy this! (also, my ao3 is pamplemousses so check me out if you like what you read <3)

Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a village mage who had made a comfortable life with her magic shop, ‘Ladybug’s Spells and Potions’. However, her fairly repetitive life was thrown into a tumult when Adrien Agreste, also known as Adrien the Enchanter, abruptly settled in her village one sunny morning.

And he just so happened to be her new neighbor and rival vendor.

Now, Marinette was never very fond of change, but by the will of the gods if she was not overwhelmingly enamored with this one.

Word Count: 3,519

Rating: M (well, right now, its a cool T/G rating, but future content will be M)

Marinette had been tending to her garden that sun-drenched afternoon when the Change occurred.

The entire day leading up to that exact moment in time had been pleasantly uniform---which is how she preferred it to be. Marinette Dupain-Cheng had woken up promptly before sunrise to prepare various brews and elixirs for impending customers, which took her exactly until the first rays of light seeped through the cottage windows. After a minimalistic breakfast of rosemary tea and blackberry scones, the mage busied herself with dusting the wall of grimoires taking up residence on one side of the shop.

As soon as that was done, she took to the task of arranging the herbs she laid out the night before into their designated parcels to place neatly in the vacant spots of their shelves. When she finally settled behind the shop counter, steady streams of clients were waiting for her.

Not to say that there was not the occasional hiccup in her otherwise repetitive lifestyle, because there definitely were. Still, this bump in her day-to-day schedule was of no ordinary caliber. Oh, no.

The change just so happened to be Adrien Agreste, notoriously known as Adrien the Enchanter.

And he just so happened to be her new neighbor and rival vendor.

Now, Marinette was never very fond of change, but by the will of the gods if she was not overwhelmingly enamored with this one.

Adrien stood across the gravel road in front of the now-sold establishment, surrounded by moving crates and helpers. Although it was a fairly warm fall day, he looked sophisticated in a cinched black waistcoat and tightly-fitted slacks, his white button-up rolled above his elbows. His hair stopped midway down his neck, and the way the sun caught on his honey-blonde locks made out as if he were wearing a halo.

Even from afar, and only viewing the back of his being, Adrien was evidently well-built like the gods harvested him from the Garden with the perfect bolline. It felt as if she was gazing upon the male incarnation of Aphrodite and his crown of falling stars.

And if she stared too long, Marinette knew the god before her would turn around and reveal his true, glittering form and steal her vision away.

Suddenly breathless at her own spinning thoughts, Marinette ripped her gaze away from the male and instead focused on the bolline she had been previously putting to use by digging little pockets in the dirt for her wolfsbane seeds. Wolfsbane only germinates in riposte to fresh snowmelt, which is why it’s best to plant them in the early fall so that when winter comes they will have had long enough to ruminate. The budding herb was particularly popular with her customers for its antidotal effects on many poisons and the curse of lycanthropy. Because the seed placement is such a tedious process, it is crucial for Marinette to pay special attention when she sows them.

She would simply have to introduce herself later.

Determined, the mage worked fervently to finish the task she had started, trying her hardest not to think about Adrien. Minutes passed fairly quickly when she got into the groove of things and a good half hour went by before the last seed was bedded and sprinkled with specially iced water. Marinette beamed with pride at her handiwork, settling back on her knees to admire the yard. On each side of the stone path that lead directly to the shop entrance lay her numerous gardening plots that extended until the divider from the shop next-door stopped them. Every plot was nicely aligned and labeled so that customers could peruse for specific ingredients with little difficulty.

Sighing in content, Marinette let her stare wander across the way where all the excitement had been earlier. All the moving crates had disappeared from the street and the helpers were nowhere to be seen. In fact, only Adrien himself remained…and was he looking at her?

With a jolt, she realized he was indeed peering at her with an expression she could not pin down from a distance. Like a firefly in a mason jar, she panicked and considered her possible routes of escape.

Alas, too little too late.

Now he was waving good naturedly at her, flashing a charming smile that could make any glacier melt from its warmth. Marinette refrained from swooning.

Now he was walking (or rather, striding) over the gravel road to greet her from where she was kneeled in her garden. Why couldn’t he have caught her in something more appealing than a dirty pinafore?

And now he was standing a breaths-width away from her, shadowed by the sun and hand extended for her to take graciously. Marinette could scarcely move for a few dizzying moments before coming to her senses and accepting his out-stretched appendage.

“T-Thank you.” Marinette managed to mumble, hyper aware of how firm and balmy his grasp was. Though they had only just met, he was squeezing her hand like they were long-time friends.

Adrien just nodded courteously and revealed another blinding smile.

“Think nothing of it! I’m Adrien Agreste, the new charms merchant around here. Despite what the name of my shop says, I can assure you that it is only a sobriquet.” Marinette spared a glance to the sign above his shop, which read ‘Chat Noir’s Charms and Hexes’. The names itself piqued curiosity in the mage, but she decided to hold her tongue until they got introductions out of the way.

Besides being popular for the title Adrien the Enchanter and his skills, he was also quite known for being a restless spirit. Adrien moved from village to village, opening up shops under different names and leaving under no discernable circumstances. His father, Gabriel Agreste, was an extremely gifted warlock in the occult world with very deep pockets; it was assumed that’s where he got the resources and funding to hop from place to place with no debts to pay.

“O-Oh, uh, I already know who you are, since you’re kind of well-known in the occult world…” Marinette cringed at the comment and cleared her throat. “A-Anyways, my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I’m the owner of ‘Ladybug’s Spells and Potions’.” She gestured vaguely to their surroundings, smiling to soothe the stiffness of her manner.

“Lovely to be in your company, Marinette.” Adrien replied without missing a beat, much to her relief. He let the pleasantries hang in the air between them as he took a moment to look around. His eyes seemed to sparkle when he restored eye contact with her again. It made her heart skitter in her chest.

“Are you a witch, by chance?” He suddenly burst, leaning forward ever so slightly. This made Marinette grimace and look away.

The pedestal she had put Adrien on shrunk.

Witch.

The very term was borne from the slew of bad apples that plagued their history as magic users, as mages. To her kind, ‘witch’ intoned to the forbidden practice of dark arts and blood rituals as a way of getting tasks or jobs done. Although she had delved little interest in the history, to dabble in forsaken magic was implicit to entering Lucifer’s den. Once a mage sought out the Devils’ shadow magic, the natural power coursing through their veins became irreversibly tainted, much like a poison apple.

But, as the old proverb proves, ‘one bad apple spoils the barrel’.

During the dark ages, witchery became popular and numerous covens were formed, forever tarnishing their kins’ reputation. Hell, Marinette had ancestors that were active participants and leaders of these covens. Disturbingly, Marinette had heard hushed whispers from her own parents about her grandmother being a savant in witchery—

She did not wish to further ponder the matter.

Marinette let out a tired sigh.

“Adrien, I know you did not mean any harm by it, but please do not refer to me as ‘witch’. I’m a mage.” She informed him seriously, and then added, “Actually, around here, I’m referred to as Marinette the Mage.”

Upon hearing this, Adrien’s face crumpled like dead leaves in the autumn breeze, smile drooping to an ashamed frown. What little skin he was showing paled, and color rushed to his cheeks.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you, and on our very first meeting!” He hurried to amend his mistake, holding up his hands apologetically. “Please don’t think badly of me, it was my mistake!”

Adrien was so distressed that Marinette felt a twinge of regret in her heart. Just a twinge, though.

“It’s, uh, quite alright Adrien. Really, you didn’t know.” She soothed awkwardly, combing her hands through one of her pig-tails to keep her fidget-y hands busy.

“Are you sure? I just grew so excited; it has been far too long since I have made the acquaintance of someone of your kin.” Adrien gave her a nervous stare, lips parting as he leaned inwards. “As you know, magic users have become less and less of a common phenomenon from the lack of…breeding.”

Oh, gods.

Momentarily strung by this, she mutely nodded.

He wasn’t wrong, seeing as many magic users become so caught up in their own powers they essentially wither into ill-socialized hermits, refusing to marry in fear of having to pass on any of their hoarded knowledge of magic to a heir.

“Y-Yes, I’m just surprised you forgot calling someone like me a ‘witch’ was offensive.” She giggled in good humor to assuage his discomfort. “Ah, perchance could be you’re too—”

Marinette caught herself before she could finish with ‘sheltered’. Gods, that was close. She would rather be stripped of her powers than ever say something so bold to his face, and in such a casually brazen manner too.

Adrien, jumping at the distraction, slanted his eyes curiously at her. A small smile dangled from his lips, but it was vastly different from the polite one he wore when he first greeted her. He couldn’t know, right? Marinette felt very warm all of a sudden.

“Too what?” Adrien asked coyly, cocking his head to the side in the most natural way possible. He gazed at her from beneath his eye lashes, batting them innocently.

Marinette had a sinking feeling that he knew what she alluded to.

Could enchanters gift themselves the power of telepathy?

Oh, gods, she was finished.

“N-Nothing, forget it! I should probably take my leave, midday rush is about to start.” Her face flamed despite the chilly wind that gusted against them with impressive bravado. Adrien let out a short, harmonious laugh that Marinette knew would ring in her head the rest of the day.

“On that note, I should get back to my shop. I promised an old friend he could visit, maybe you know him?”

“Oh? Mayhap I do.” Marinette amiably replied, glancing at the sundial that lay nearby. They were really cutting it close.

Then again, Adrien Agreste was worth the fuss.

Adrien grinned devilishly. “Well, I guess I’ll have to invite you over next time he visits for you to find out. Bring a friend, too. I would love to get to know you more...”

He half turned away, and breathed her name like it was the most charming thing to have uttered at that moment, “…Marinette.”

And with that Adrien whisked himself from her sight like magic, leaving Marinette in a state of utter and total disarray.

No wonder he donned the title Adrien the Enchanter, because he had already cast an enchantment on her heart.

Two weeks puttered by without incident and the Autumnal Equinox was almost upon Yoke Elm Village, much to the excitement of Marinette. The autumnal equinox was essentially the first day of fall, which was a big deal to the supernatural and superstitious residents of the village. To celebrate the ushering of a new season, a festival was being held in the town square that evening.

“Alya, hand me another bowl, I’m about finished with this one.” Marinette said as she grinded her incense mix of marigold, passionflower, and fern into the mortar. This was the last batch of ceremonial incense she needed to complete before they could pack all the sets onto her cart to sell before the festival began at sundown. Marinette had been handpicked to be a vendor for the special occasion, having been given the honor to make the traditional incense that would lighted for the sacred ritual that evening.

Unfortunately, Adrien had also been chosen to contribute to the festive event, being given the task of supplying harvest charms to all the farmers and horticulturists as part of the ritual.

In those two weeks of preparation for the event, both Marinette and Adrien had not seen hide or tail of each other (except for their run-in at their local sundry market, which is how they found out why the other had been so preoccupied).

It frustrated Marinette to no end.

It also frustrated Marinette to know that her close circle of friends was getting to know Adrien better during this time period without her.

Though, that was all by chance, of course.

Marinette met with Alya that same day and chattered happily about her intense infatuation with Adrien Agreste. Alya, excited and mystified by her best friend’s abrupt obsession with Adrien, hung onto to every detail. In fact, Alya went out of her way to meet Adrien after their talk. She caught him right as he was about to leave for a rendezvous with an “old pal from his adolescent years”, who turned out to be Alya’s boyfriend of two years running, Nino Lahiffe.

They all got along splendidly, from Alya’s recounting of their outings.

Pushing the thoughts from her head, the female sighed deeply and held out her hand for the next bowl.

“Mari, there are no more bowls to hand you.” Alya waved to the empty counter before them, “We’re done.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at her friend’s plural suggestion.

“Pardon me, I mean you’re done.” Alya tossed her auburn hair behind her shoulder dramatically and carefully pushed off of the bench they were both occupying to avoid snagging her cape.

Alya had already donned her festival wear before venturing to Marinette’s cottage. She fronted a shimmery tan cape gown and a long, thin black cape tied around her shoulders. The tan fabric was layered with black lace from neck to floor, a small slit going up each side of the dress. A black corset belt sat snugly at her waistline, nearly hidden from view by the smooth tulle cloak that encased her figure. To top it all off, Alya had chosen to wear elbow-length gloves that matched indiscriminately with the corset belt.

Needless to say, she was alluring enough to earn the blessing of any grove faerie and harvest god that gazed upon her that evening.

“That’s what I thought.” Marinette let out an entertained laugh as she stood up to remove her work apron, feeling accomplished and relieved that the hard part of her work was done. All she had to do now was transfer all the incense to her cart and book it down to the festival.

Marinette and Alya quickly gathered up all the incense in their baskets and exited the mage’s work shed, which was located behind her shop. The work shed was usually where Marinette tinkered with her magic; inside, she had a work bench, a mixing cauldron, and a three tier shelf that contained all her most prized and precious spellbooks. Additionally, it was where she stored her market stall cart, but that had already been prepped with decorations and moved to the foyer of her home.

The duo entered the shop through the back entrance and hastily loaded all the incense onto the cart. With Alya’s help, the task was finished with plenty of time to spare. While Marinette was busy re-adjusting a frilly bow tied to the bar of the dolly, Alya pounced on her with unexpected vigor.

“What in the--” Marinette yelped, finding herself being steered by strong arms.

“Marinette, we need to get you ready!” Alya cooed as she forced her away from the foyer and towards the stairway on the other side of the shop. “You want to look good for your darling Adrien, right?”

“Erm, well—I wouldn’t call him that, but yes—,” The mage stuttered, affronted by the affectionate nickname.

“That’s what I assumed. Now, cease your henpecking ‘round the incense and go get dressed!” Alya did an impression of a crotchety woman, which caused Marinette to giggle. Alya took this as an opportunity spin her in the direction of her room, successfully tearing her away from the cart.

When the mage began to protest more, she winked playfully, revealing the coal powder dusted on her eyelids, “I’ll look after everything else while you’re away!”

“But—”

“No arguing! Come, come!”

Marinette pursed her lips in resignation as she was hustled up the stairs, the sudden activity causing the picture frames on the wall to tremble as they passed. Thankfully, none of the frames tumbled from their perches by the time Marinette reached the threshold of her bedroom, which was a wooden trapdoor embedded in the ceiling. Magical sigmas had been carved all around the frame of the door, meant to ward off any evil spirits and ill-intending creatures that bumped in the night while Marinette was slumbering.

At least, that was what Marinette told people.

She smiled to herself at the thought as she vanished into the ceiling, the trapdoor rattling as it sunk back into the frame.

Less than half and hour went by before Marinette finally emerged from her chambers, taking great care not to snag her dress on any of the splintered wood railing as she descended the steps to her foyer. Once she reached the bottom, she practically flew into the adjoining room where Alya was, eager to show off her newest hand-crafted creation.

Alya looked her up and down, whistling appreciatively.

Marinette had decided to match the theme of her gown to the theme of the festival, hence her look being less revealing and more accurate to the history of the event. She had taken an A-line chemise and sewn it to a black, calf-length skirt to establish the dress silhouette. After a bit of needle magic, she turned the skirt into jumpskirt and proceeded to add tulle underneath the body of the gown to fluff it up (for extra measure, she added a silk lining under the tulle to keep it uniform). Marinette then embroidered an elaborate pattern of falling leaves onto the skirt, using magic thread to make the leaves change colors periodically. For the chemise top, she spelled the plain white color to shimmer under moonlight and made the shoulder-sleeves sheer. She also sewed a strip of lacy ruffles along the front buttons and along the collar, making the color outline of the ruffles a gradient of reds, oranges, greens, and browns. As a final touch, Marinette donned an underbust corset to complete the look. In addition, she wore black stockings and lace-up boots.

“What do you think? This one took me ages to finish, even with a bit of magic.” Marinette did a little twirl, lifting the skirt up in a mock curtsy. This made Alya giggle.

“It looks incredible! You look incredible! I just know Adrien will think so, too.” Alya circled Marinette, absently caressing the dress fabric in admiration. It really was an intricate gown, with all the patterns and magic done on fabric.

They both chatted excitedly about the dress for a minute or two more before deciding it was time to leave for the festival. Marinette and Alya hustled the cart out of the cottage door with little difficulty, although there was a bit of a fuss when Alya stubbed her toe on a cobblestone and cursed loud enough for passing festival-goers to throw them annoyed glances. Nonetheless, they both pushed the cart out onto the main road and began their trek towards the townsquare.

Before Marinette could completely leave, she remembered she had not closed up the shop. She rushed back to the cottage, telling Alya to continue on without her. Once she was well up the road and out of earshot, Marinette ducked herself back inside and called out to the shadows.

“Tikki! You can come out now, we have to go!”

A red blur darted out from the stairs and zipped right into her awaiting palm. Tikki yawned and stretched out her arm-like appendages, smiling sweetly up at her as Marinette tucked her into the pocket of the gown. As she was leaving, she swiped the black cloak hanging on the coat hook by the door. It had little embroidered ladybugs lining the edges of the cape and hood, as well as a gold clasp. The mage donned the cloak and swept outside, locking the door as she went.

Marinette fumbled in the midst of her rush to meet Alya, her mind on the weight in her pocket.

Ah, yes. Tikki was a secret she would take to the grave.

#my writing #ml magic au #ml #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ao3 #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #tikki #plagg

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travllingbunny · 6 years ago

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The 100 rewatch: 1x09 Unity Day

This episode was never one of my favorites, but I didn’t dislike it first time around, so I was surprised to which extent I did this time. It’s an important episode that moves the plot along in crucial ways both on the Ark and on the ground, but it has so many of the things I disliked in season 1 (the Jaha/Diana plot – which reaches its climax and ends with this episode, Finn the peacemaker, and the first appearance of Anya – always one of my least favorite characters, who starts the tradition of Grounders being extremely hypocritical in their interactions with the Arkers) or that I’m indifferent to (the very rushed Linctavia romance - the Romeo and Juliet “we just met and we’re already in love” type romance was never my thing, I just don’t find it relatable).

Rating: 6/10

The scenes I liked the best were just the little moments of the Delinquents having fun during the Unity Day celebration. And I don’t mean just the scene where Clarke and Bellamy spend a few minutes eye fucking flirting totally platonically interacting, but also Clarke having fun with a couple of random Delinquents (Fox and Sterling, who are both introduced here) and the start of Jasper’s and Raven’s friendship and him telling her that she now kind of has a family with the Delinquents. And I liked Miller’s snarky remark while watching Jaha’s speech, that he can now try to take credit after the 100 have done the toughest job.

This was the first time we got the backstory of the 12 stations joining, and the unofficial fact that the 13th station was blown up, which the show explored more in S3.

It’s also the first time we hear the “…May we meet again” prayer for the dying, when Kane says it to his mother.

At least the Diana/Jaha conflict is finally over. This is how not to do moral greyness: instead of having sympathy for both sides, I disliked both sides equally, which results in indifference. Diana’s political stance is supposed to be about protecting the working class, but it’s kinda hard to trust that when all her people did in the previous episodes was manipulate one member of the Ark’s working class to do their dirty job and assassinate Jaha and then another one to try to kill the former one. And here they stage a terrorist attack and fail to kill Jaha, again (this guy survived probably more near-deaths during the show than anyone else), but blow up a bunch of innocent people, including children. And on the other side you have Jaha, with all his oppression, executions and constant lies. But I guess this show loves the “people being total a-holes and destroying everything” plots, like this one.

Something that I always disliked but couldn't put my finger on why, but now I know: Finn’s new role as a peacemaker is just Finn doing Finn things again: he is saying so many things that sound right (peace, we should all get along, stop the cycle of violence etc.) but the way he goes about it is so frustrating and stupid, it’s basically “How not to do pacifism”.

First, he goes to talk to Lincoln on his own and suggests negotiations – nice, but Lincoln tells him straight up that he has no power to negotiate a truce, and Finn is like “Find someone who can”. What makes him think any of the Grounder leaders will listen to Lincoln? He knows nothing about the Grounder society, so it’s dumb to assume they don’t have a strict hierarchy and act the same as an informal group like the 100. He assumes the thing is already as good as agreed on and that everyone will do exactly as he wants them to, including the Grounders not bringing any weapons, because he said so. Then he tells that to Clarke alone – Lincoln identified her as the leader of the 100; I wonder what Finn would’ve done if Lincoln had thought Bellamy was the leader – and brings it all to her as a done deal, telling her to do as he says, insisting that there should be no weapons, and silencing any arguments to the contrary.

First off, this is really stupid: there’s nothing unusual about bringing guards to peace negotiations, in fact, I’m pretty sure that’s what leaders always do – and of course the Grounders are going to bring armed guards and backup to the meeting. This shouldn’t have been a surprise. Secondly, how presumptuous is he? Now that I’ve seen S2, everything Finn does looks like an attempt to be a hero and to prove himself as a hero to Clarke specifically and to have her need him, like Raven did on the Ark.

Clarke, on her part, obviously thinks to herself – the same as she later does during the conversation with Anya – “there’s no use arguing with someone so unreasonable”, and you can see her starting to learn to be sneaky to get things done. So she goes to Bellamy for armed backup, of course. Later, Finn is surprised that, oh look, the Grounder “leader” is coming with armed guards (duh) and is clearly upset when Anya tells Clarke to come to talk to her on the middle of the bridge by herself, not letting Finn come with her. He lost the opportunity to be her knight protector. How do you think you can protect her, Finn, when you didn’t bring any weapons? In fact, not only does Anya come with armed guards, but she has a knife herself, and archers hidden in the trees nearby, including one ready to shoot Clarke any moment.

Bellamy made a mistake bringing Jasper, the guy who was speared by the Grounders – but having seen S2 and S3, it’s clear that even Abby has no clue about PTSD, so it’s not surprise that Bellamy didn’t. Though he seemed to have learned by S4, when he acted very differently with Riley. Jasper’s PTSD certainly was partly responsible for the way he jumped to the conclusion that the Grounders were going to kill Clarke. I don’t think they were intending to – or they would have done it immediately – but the archer was clearly there to shoot any moment she does anything suspicious, so her life was in danger for sure – it could’ve easily ended up as one of those “I thought he was reaching for a gun” situations.

I love the way Clarke and Bellamy just looked at each other and rolled their eyes at Finn when he started blaming Clarke for bringing up backup and said “All you had to do it trust me”. Geez, Finn, not everything is about your relationship with Clarke. And this didn’t even make sense – she could trust him but still think he was being dumb, he could not vouch for the Grounders, and he was wrong in his expectation they would do what he told them to and come without weapons.

I’ve always found Anya really annoying, and with the info we find out later, it’s even worse, because it’s obvious that everything that came out of her mouth during that meeting was utter BS. I had forgotten that she actually told Clarke: “You’ve started a war you don’t know how to finish”. Really?

Not the last time the Grounders will blame the Arkers for the things they did themselves, or for defending themselves against them. Even more annoying is the fact that some fans take the “you started a war by destroying our village” argument seriously, in spite of the facts that Grounders speared Jasper way before that and engaged in intimidation tactics, that they must have known exactly what the 100 were like for quite some time since 1) at least one person, Lincoln, followed them and noted info about them, and 2) we learn in 1x10 that they had captured and tortured Murphy and that he told them everything. And you have to be extremely stupid to conclude that 100 unarmed kids going around having fun are an invading force, or that their first action would be to blow up a random village, rather than find out more about the Grounders, target their leadership, do anything strategically important. Lexa was not stupid, so I think that she was probably thinking along the same lines as Bellamy was in 1x04 when the crowd was lynching Muprhy – “give people what they want”. People want to blame someone, they want blood for blood, so let’s give them an enemy.

Anya’s other arguments are even worse: the Delinquents also supposedly started the war because “you captured and tortured one of ours” – forgetting that they did it right after the Grounders had killed 3 of the Delinquents and were just about to attack and killed more when the fake signal for the acid fog interrupted them. She says she has no reason to make a deal that Clarke cannot guarantee the Ark leadership would observe. True – but we now know that Anya is not the actual leader of the Grounders or even Trikru, so she has no authority to do guarantee the rest would listen, either. The deal was negotiated over a few hours, so I doubt they could have consulted Lexa in Polis (and it’s questionable if even Lexa could guarantee anything, since the clans were not united, and Trikru were at war with the Ice Nation so much of the time).

And her reply to Clarke’s warning that the soldiers from the Ark would come to destroy them with their technology, “They wouldn’t be the first to try”, seems like empty bragging. That has to be about the Mountain Men, but they never actually tried to destroy the Grounders. Why would they destroy their continuous blood supply? They just wanted to enslave and harvest them, and it doesn’t seem like the Grounders were ever able to do much about it.

Body count: a ton of people from the Ark, but I don’t know the numbers. Dozens of people in the terrorist attack, including Kane’s mother and the cute girl who was giving the speech. Then everyone on the Exodus ship, including Diana, when it crashes – which we now know was caused by Mount Weather. The Mountain Men killed so many Arkers in S1, before they even appeared on screen. (They said before that the Exodus ship can take up to 700 people, so I guess it must have been around that number, or at least a few hundred people?) And Diana’s actions crippled the Ark and it lost power, so she’s responsible for the imminent deaths of a lot of people who remained on the Ark. On the ground, Jasper shot 2 Grounders, but I don’t know if they died.

#the 100 #the 100 rewatch #the 100 season 1 #the 100 1x09 #unity day #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #finn collins #jasper jordan

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missnighttigress · 6 years ago

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The Masquerade: Chapter One

Characters: Tony Stark, Fem!Tony Stark, Toni Stark, Loki, Loki Odinson, Loki Laufeyson

Pairing: Toni Stark x Loki (eventually)

Word Count: 2,527

Summary: After the New York incident, Natasha "Toni" Stark threw herself back into the worlds of science and business. She expected everything to go fine until the next attack. She didn't realize fate had something else in store: a visit from an old acquaintance who hurled her out of her penthouse window. She had expected the worst to happen, and was in for quite a shock. Maybe this was the greatest show of them all...

Warnings: mild angst, mild language, more warnings in the possible future

A/N: I started writing this way back in 2012. The original wasn’t as well-written as this, which is an updated version. This is the first chapter in this particular series. I’ve actually been kind of playing with the idea of revamping this so that it includes some turmoil in a love triangle between Toni and Loki and then Toni and Steve. Please let me know what you think!

AO3 Link

Natasha rolled in her satin sheets as her body twisted itself into comfortable sleeping positions. It was the first night she got any real sleep since the battle with Loki so many weeks ago, and JARVIS really didn’t want to disturb her. If he didn’t, she’d be late for her appointment.

“Miss Stark?”

His futile attempt was met with a snore as a response. So, he tried again.

“Miss Stark?”

A moan this time. That was better than a snore.

The steel door at the other end of the long modernly-decorated bedroom clanged open, and a tall tan woman stepped through. Her messy hair was a bright red, almost strawberry blonde color, a navy business suit covering her body. In her firm right hand was an Android tablet. Her eyes glanced up at the ceiling before she spoke in a decibel just above a whisper. “I’ll handle this, JARVIS.”

“As you wish, Ms. Potts.”

Pepper’s navy heels made indents on the plush carpet of Toni’s bedroom as she stepped toward the edge of the king-sized bed and gandered downward at the sleeping head of Stark Industries. She knew the inventor was up late inventing anymore, making modifications to the suit and new renovations to the tower Loki destroyed. However, that night was the Iron Stomach fundraiser, one of the biggest fundraisers Toni held. It wasn’t exactly going to host itself. “Wake up, Toni.”

The woman snarled and rolled over, her foot swinging out from underneath the covers and catching the back of Pepper’s knee as she grumbled, “If I didn’t answer the first two times, what the hell makes you think I’m going to answer the third?”

“How many cocktails did you drink last night?”

Her fingers clenched at the edge of the black comforter as she pulled it over her head. “None.”

“Ms. Stark had six, followed by that many shots of tequila,” the AI answered.

Toni hissed at the ceiling. “I’m going to deprogram you and use you as scraps, you rat. I thought we had something special.”

“We do, Miss. I am merely concerned for your safety.”

“Concern a little less.”

Pepper rolled her eyes and managed to claw the comforter from Toni’s fists. Iron Woman groaned and shrunk into a ball as response. “Don’t yell at him. He’s doing what he was programmed by you to do. When you were out drinking, did you remember what today was?”

“It’s ‘Get the hell out of Toni’s room or so help me’ day, right?”

Pepper’s jaw locked. “No. Today is the Iron Stomach gala at the Ritz.”

Toni unraveled her body and slung an arm over her eyes. “I made you CEO. You handle it. I’m taking a day off.”

“Do you know the kind of preparations we’ve already gone through for this? I gave the title of CEO back to you anyway. This is all on you. Besides, it’ll do you some good to get out of the lab for a little bit.”

The arm peeled away as chocolate eyes opened to glare at the assistant. “But science,” she whined, sounding like a little kid. She didn’t care. Going to that damn fundraiser meant having to get all dolled up. She was perfectly fine being a grease monkey.

“Toni, we’ve already canceled a major event once in the last three months. If we do it again, people will begin to talk, especially the shareholders. You need to do some good press, especially now that you and the other Avengers have damaged a good chunk of the city.”

“At least it was only part of the city and not the whole damn thing. Ever see what happens when Superman tries to save the world? He does more damage than good, I tell ya.”

She rolled her eyes and tugged the blanket the rest of the way off the CEO. “You gonna get up?”

“You gonna get out?”

“Not until I see you up and moving.”

Toni hissed once more but unfurled her body, taking her time to stretch before physically rising from the bed onto her feet. “There. Satisfied?”

“Very. Now get changed. We have to go make the final preparations and make sure everything’s in order.”

Toni growled and stomped to her closet. “All right, all right! Get out. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Pepper grinned wide and nodded. “Very well, Toni. By the way?”

“What?”

“No suit. JARVIS is on lockdown so you can’t create another scene before tonight.”

“God dammit, Pepper!”

“See you downstairs, Toni.”

There wasn’t much that could keep a god imprisoned, not even Asgardian cells. Then again, Thor was the dolt who let the God of Mischief out to aid in battle, so it wasn’t so much a question of the cell’s safety as it was Thor’s sense of judgment. It didn’t matter to Loki, though. He was in Midgard now, and he made sure no one could see him.

Loki stepped from an alley and glanced around at the humans and the bizarre look they were giving him. “Peasants,” he spat as he walked into a crowd of men and women in business suits.

“Are you attending the Iron Stomach fundraiser tonight?” his ears heard one of the women say.

“I don’t know. Stark’s ego is going to be overwhelming thanks to the alien incident. It’s a masquerade anyway. What if I danced with a guy, wanted to go home with him, and I found out he had leprosy or something?”

“You’re so shallow, Maggie. You’re 36! It’s time to settle down.”

The god tuned them both out after that. He had gotten his crucial information from the women, and he was done. Instead, he focused on the large building that said “Stark” on it and grinned wickedly. “Looks like I’m invited to a ball. See you there, Woman of Iron.”

“No! These aren’t the flowers I ordered! I ordered red and gold tiger lilies with dyed roses. What the hell…the centerpieces are all wrong. Come on, people! You’ve had two days and several hours today to prepare this, and it isn’t done? Seriously?”

Toni immediately jumped in and started getting her hands dirty by rearranging the centerpieces when Pepper trotted over. “This is exactly why you should’ve been here instead of the lab the last few days. Everything would be exactly the way you want it.”

“Please tell me you’re on top of fixing this disaster.” Toni leaned toward Pepper’s frame and whined like a petulant child. “You always come through for me.”

“Which is why I did so this time, Toni,” the redhead chuckled, handing her boss a piece of paper. “I have everything arriving within the hour and everything will be exactly like you want it to be. Who’s the best?”

“You are,” the genius grinned. Chocolate eyes wandered around until they rested on a petite blonde girl in a business suit rushing toward them – no doubt, the concierge. “Need something, Tinkerbell?”

She blushed softly and panted. “M-Miss Stark? The florist has arrived, and the catering crew is around back.”

Iron Woman patted the girl on the shoulder. “Thank you, Tink. I appreciate it. Keep doing your job.” When she bounced away, Toni whistled for the decorating crew to gather. “All right, boys. I need you to go lift those flowers and come back in here and rearrange all of this. I promise, you will be supplied with pizza and booze for your efforts. I’ll go grab it right now. Thank you!”

The crew moaned and grumbled, which wasn’t shocking. Toni would’ve bitched herself if she wasn’t a billionaire and had to do this all herself. What was shocking was the one icy grin she was receiving from a man in the back. It was enough to catch her off her guard, she had to admit. There was something about him…

Pepper glanced over to her boss and rolled her eyes. “I know that look, and no, you can’t. You have to stay focused, Toni.”

Breaking out of her trance, dark mocha wavy locks shook with her head. “What? What look? What’s breaking my focus? What?”

“You’re staring at one of the workers. No. You can’t have him.”

“Who said I wanted him?”

“The look!”

“What look?!”

Pepper sighed in exasperation as her hip shot out to the side, her lips turning downward. “The look, Toni. The look you give all your bedded victims-”

“Victims?”

“-And then you screw something up by not calling them and that is how you’ve gained your ‘playgirl’ reputation.”

“Which I’m proud of. As I recall, you were almost victim to ‘the look’ a couple times. Are you bitching about it now?”

Pep blushed and turned on her heel. “You’re cheating.”

“I’m merely using all of the pieces at my disposal. I can’t be blamed for being strategic. I’m heading over to Palmiro’s. Want anything?”

“I’m in the mood for a couple pepperoni rolls, if you don’t mind.”

The brunette grinned. “I see what you did there. All right. I’ll be back!”

It was a beautiful day in Manhattan, really. The sun was shining and it was just the right temperature. It was the perfect day to go for a stroll to the pizza shop. Maybe getting out of the lab wasn’t so bad.

Toni kept her eyes glued to her phone as she walked, running schematics on new suits and getting updates from Pepper about the project. She only glanced up when she finally reached Palmiro’s. “Hey, Poppa P!”

An older gentleman behind the counter grinned and threw his hands in the air. “Ah! Miss-a Stark! Pleasure to ‘ave you! What can we-a do for you?”

Manicured nails took the aviator sunglasses from her eyes and pushed them into her hair. “I need six of your Party Poppas, half with extra cheese, and half with pepperoni. I also need two dozen pepperoni rolls. No one makes ‘em like you.”

Poppa beamed even wider and added the items together on the cash register. “That’s-a why you’re one of my-a favorites! Comin’ right-a up!”

“Thank you,” she sang, her eyes wandering to the walls to the old photographs hanging as proud decorations. Poppa Palmiro was just a boy when his parents had migrated over from the Tuscany province of Italy. His walls were adorned with photos of his old home and his new home, and Toni enjoyed looking at each one. She was thankful his business managed to stay safe after the incident with Loki.

As she continued looking around, she suddenly felt something strong around her. It felt like icy eyes were gazing into her soul. When she turned on her heel, she saw nothing. No one was gazing at her, inside the establishment or out. The only person in the place was a little old woman cutting her pizza with a plastic fork and a knife in a booth in the back. Her chest heaved in a heavy sigh, and she focused on Poppa P behind the counter.

“Greetings, Woman of Iron.”

The way the voice spoke to her made her hair on the back of her neck stand. Growling, she whipped around and saw the very one who threw her from her penthouse at Stark Tower sitting where the old woman had been. There Loki was, donning the familiar black, green, and gold leather and metal garb he was last seen in. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were imprisoned.”

Loki tipped his head and snarled. “I was, thanks to you and the other ‘heroes.’ More like misfits from where I’m sitting. I was stuck in that damned muzzle for weeks, until Thor came along.”

Toni’s arms snaked over her chest as she tossed the god a cocky grin. “So you managed to escape. Big deal. We caught you before and we’ll catch you again. Thor will be here any minute to cart your ass back.”

“Come now, Stark, really. Why allow him to cart me back to a place where it’s evident I will escape from?” He offered a vicious grin as the shoulders of his armor rolled. “I mean you no harm now that I’m free of the Tesseract’s wicked hold.”

“You’ve seen what I can construct, and yet you still think I’m dumb enough to buy that you were controlled by that thing? I’m a businesswoman. I can smell shit from a mile away and right now, you reek of it.”

He chuckled darkly and gestured to the booth opposite him with long fingers. “Join me, won’t you?”

She snorted. “You already tried that. Performance issues, remember?” Nonetheless, she walked over and took a seat. What was the worst that could happen, really? “So why are you here, really? If you don’t want to dominate the world, or at least have the tools to, then why are you here? What do you gain from this?”

“So many questions from the businesswoman. I thought business was like the game of Kriger Sjakkspill.”

“What the hell is that?”

“Loosely translated in Norwegian, it’s Warrior Chess. It’s like your pathetic edition, but with more violence and actual living pawns. Either way, it requires strategy. You should be able to tell my true purpose here if you were decent at your job.”

“I’m not a psychic. Why can’t you just answer my questions?”

He grinned and leaned forward, hands clasped together under his chin. “What fun would that be? You should know I enjoy torture, and seeing my very presence seems to dig right under your skin, exactly like I like it.”

Something about the way he purred out that last part made Toni’s skin crawl, in both a good and bad way. She was about to reply when Poppa P called her to take her order. “Here-a we go, Miss-a Stark!” he declared, holding six enormous rectangle boxes with two bags on top of the stack.

Her eyes left the god not even for two seconds, and when they fixated on him again, it was the little old lady. Her lips curled into a small snarl as she rose. “Knocking” her phone out of her own hand and onto the floor beside the woman, she growled, “If you put so much as a trash can lid out of place, I won’t hesitate to destroy you. Keep it clean, and you and I might just get along. Am I understood?”

The old woman offered Toni a small smile, but Toni could see the forest green eyes of the God of Mischief she was previously sitting in front of. “Crystal clear,” he muttered. “It was nice to see you, deary,” the little old lady said.

Toni growled again before rising completely and grabbing her order. “Thank you, Poppa P. See ya later! And hey, stay safe would you?”

“Bye-a bye, Miss-a Stark! Have a good-a party!”

Outside the pizza shop, Toni called JARVIS at the tower. “Jarv, I want the place on high alert. Don’t tell the team, but I just saw Loki.”

“Miss, are you-”

“I wasn’t hallucinating, and yes, I am sure. I don’t want another security breech like last time. I’ll be home shortly.”

“As you wish, Miss Stark.”

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