#pulling the outfits out of the catwalk book I have at home

[nireu-art]

Mourning the queen 😔♥️ Sketching with Pilot G-1 0.5 and some colour pencils for the drawing of Muriel

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Christmas Day 34

previously on Christmas

Polo Xmas prompt: Lexa gets auctioned off as a date for charity to support a good cause. Clarke gets jealous and tries to bid on her but loses. Thanks!

“You’re late!” 

“Not that late,” Clarke furrowed as she adjusted her dress slightly. 

“Fashionably late,” Lexa offered after checking her watch. “Hardly noticeable.” 

The annual Christmas Charity Gala illuminated the museum. The carpet was hidden beneath the white tents, protecting the visitors from the dazzling flurry of perfectly timed snow. Lights hung from every available eave, while brilliant Christmas trees glowed throughout the exhibits. The main hall was a sea of black ties and festive gowns, of fancy hair and cologne, of happy couples and wishes of merriment. 

Immediately set upon by Raven as they walked past the cameras and coat check, there hadn’t been even a second to really take in the winter magic that existed for the benefit Marcus began with Abby’s help. It was the social event of the season, and Lexa considered her boss to have outdone himself more so than ever before, and she’d been to quite a few Kane parties in her time with him. Tables here were going for no less than $50,000. He was ready to set records, even in philanthropy. 

As Clarke finished fidgeting, she met her friend’s eye. Lexa’s hand remained on her back and she felt the flush of the warmth of the building finally hit her cheeks. Nothing was noticeably out of place. She was reasonably put together. 

“Seriously?” Raven groaned, shaking her head at the couple. “The limo?” 

“What? No… what do you mean?” 

Stoic and unbothered, Lexa squeezed Clarke’s arm subtly, tucking her other hand into her pocket. Raven was completely right, and she was almost slightly proud of the fact that it was almost apparent on her girlfriend’s face as to why they were late. She got a smug grin and surveyed the rest of the party. 

“I’ll let Marcus know you’re here,” Raven rolled her eyes as she turned to walk away, only to pause and give them another look before departing. 

For a moment, Clarke stood there and looked over her dress before looking over her girlfriend’s completely unrumpled tux and tie and hair. 

“How did she know?” 

“You tend to have a glow about you.” 

“I do not,”Clarke disagreed. She found a reflective surface and checked her make up while Lexa found them glasses of champagne, snagged from a quickly moving waiter’s tray. “If anyone should have a glow it’s you,” she accused. “I’m damn good in a limo and you’re lucky to have me.” 

“Oh, I know, princesa.” 

“There’s no way she could know though. Not for certain.” 

“She knows.” 

“Shut up.” 

With a calming gulp, Clarke held her glass and for the first time since arriving, surveyed the party as they walked through toward the main area in hopes of finding familiar faces. 

“You weren’t saying that twenty minutes ago,” Lexa reminded her. “I believe your exact words were something about my outfit.”

There was a blush near her collar bones at the recent memory, but Clarke didn’t break this time, instead taking another sip of her drink. 

“Do you like my dress?” 

Lexa looked it over again, for well about the hundredth time and remained completely in love with how her girlfriend looked in it. She nodded as she took a drink herself. 

“You know I think you look amazing in it.” 

“Good. Then forget what just happened in the limo.” 

“I could never.” 

“It’s the smugness. It’s unattractive.” 

“Is it though?” Lexa grinned. 

They stood close as they found their table, pausing before Lexa pulled out the chair to offer to her girlfriend. She kissed Clarke’s cheek before taking her own seat as well, happy to be near her, happy to be at an even like this for the first time ever in her life. There’d been many times she’d been on the arm of someone, but never had she been so happy to have Clarke on her’s. 

“You might want to hide that smugness, there, tiger,” Clarke offered, looking over her shoulder at the familiar form approaching. 

“I don’t know if it’s possible. You do remember what I did to you in the--”

“Dad! Hey!” 

Clarke rolled her eyes to see that the smugness didn’t leave Lexa, though she did stop talking, which was important. It was the season of giving, and Clarke was proud, too proud often, and she was not great at accepting, except with it came to Lexa. With Lexa, she took everything. 

Lexa stood as quickly as she sat, careful to button her coat before grabbing Clarke’s chair for her to hug her father. She did everything in her power to stop thinking about the limo. 

“Looks like this is the family table. Your mother was kind enough to put us all together after taking my very large check. How are you, Lexa?” 

“Doing well, sir. Nice to see you.” 

Gripping his hand, Lexa met his eyes and nodded. He smiled kindly, and he had Clarke’s eyes. It was disarming in a way. 

“You look great, honey,” he kissed his daughter’s cheek. Once more, Lexa pulled out the chair. 

“You clean up alright, too. Is Mom auctioning you, too?” 

“She is, and here I thought the divorce was enough to get rid of me.” 

Despite herself, Lexa smiled into her glass as the patriarch of one of the largest companies on the planet signaled for a drink as well. Clarke sighed audibly at her father’s jab. 

“Clarke’s annoyed that I was volunteered,” Lexa offered, earning a nudge from an elbow. 

“She never did share well,” he shrugged, chuckling at his daughter’s misfortune. 

“There’s only one limo I plan on going home in tonight,” the polo player promised. 

“Maybe you both will find true love tonight as you’re sold like slabs of meat on the auction block. I don’t understand why they can’t just do a silent auction.” 

“Oh, she is a bit jealous, isn’t she?” Jake observed. 

“I was just hoping to get her to take me to lunch more.” 

“Are you going to bid on your girlfriend?” 

“No. I get her for free. I’m not going to spend your money.” 

“You can bid on your old man, if you want,” Jake explained. “I’d hate to get stuck at some lunch with some mad woman or man, plus it’d be nice to catch up.” 

“You’re really not going to bid on me?” Lexa furrowed.

“You signed up to go on a date with a stranger, and so I’m going to oblige.” 

“That’s not what I--”

“Okay, you two, let’s go,” Raven appeared, slightly out of breath. “Abby is running me ragged looking for the talent.” 

“Now you’re making me sound like a pornstar.” 

“If you go for a high enough price, who knows,” she retorted. “Come on.” 

“Good luck,” Clarke offered as Lexa leaned down for a kiss. “I hope you go for higher than my dad. That’d be embarrassing.” 

“Remember when I said you were beautiful in that dress?”

“Mhm.” 

“I love you.” 

“I know,” Clarke smiled. “I’ll see you after.” 

XXXXXXXXXXX

Left to her own devices, Clarke finally took stock of the past hour of her life and ventured a moment to think of the next one. There was something magical about Lexa showing up in the limo, dressed to the nines, her hair perfect and tamed, or at least as much as it could be. It lived forever in her mind, that image of a dashing girl, adjusting her watch at the foot of the stairs, the look she got when Clarke walked down the steps. 

She was smitten with the polo player. She was more smitten than she could ever remember being, and she didn’t want anyone else going to lunch with her girlfriend. 

Exchanging pleasantries with the rest of her table before her friend returned, Clarke did everything she could to put the events of the limo out of her mind. There was something about how sexy Lexa was, and how her hands were always everywhere, and her lips were always so warm. It was alarming to want someone so much. It was new for Clarke. 

Beneath the small tree in her apartment, there were little gifts, already wrapped and ready for Lexa. There were plans, already, for that morning. 

“There is going to be a feeding frenzy over your dad and girlfriend.” 

“How’s he doing backstage? He hates attention.” 

“I might bid on him myself, honestly.” 

“Did he say he’d bank roll you to get him out of it?” 

“Even if he did, I’d hold him to a date.”

“Ew on so many levels,” Clarke laughed. 

“Him and Lexa are actually gossiping about watches and junk. They’re kind of adorable together. You might have to bring her around more,” Raven explained as she grabbed another glass of champagne. 

“I don’t know if I’m more afraid of them getting along or not getting along.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

“Next up, we have perhaps the most eligible bachelor in all of New York City. You know him as the CEo of Griffin, and I know him as the father of my child, I give you, Jake Griffin.” 

Abby applauded as the CEO sheepishly made his way out onto the catwalk toward the stand. 

“Jake loves Italian food and Westerns. He’s run the NYC marathon five out of the last seven years and practices kickboxing with his daughter at least once a week. A proud alumni of Columbia, he’s become an affiliate professor teaching business classes part time at the community college.”

On the stage, Clarke’s father waved and put his other hand in his pocket. 

“Bidding will start at five thousand for a wonderful lunch date while you tour the city from the water on his private yacht.” 

“Five right here!” Raven yelled, lifting her paddle quickly. 

“Stop!” Clarke rolled her eyes. 

The bidding went higher and higher as Jake gave his daughter a confused glance. She just gave him a thumbs up and laughed at the entire thing. 

“Remember, ‘tis the season, everyone,” Abby added. “We have fifty-five going once, going twice, and sold!” 

Surprised as he was, Jake nodded and smiled toward the crowds. He offered a quick wave before retreating to the safety of the backstage. 

“Next up, we have someone who needs no introduction, though I am going to give her one anyway.” 

Unlike her predecessor, Lexa came out, prepared for the season, clad in a bright red Santa hat and sporting a very mischievous smile. 

“The championship polo player and current model for Patek Philippe, Calvin Kline, and Ralph Lauren is fluent in four languages and enjoys spending the day snuggled up with a good book, something she’s done a lot of with a Masters in Latin American Literature.” 

In a similar movement, Lexa waved toward the crowd and shoved a hand in her pocket, however she knew how to work a crowd and walk a runway, much to her girlfriend's faux chagrin. Lexa knew Clarke wasn’t one to get jealous, but she appreciated the display. She appreciated feeling wanted and protected, as if somehow the girl in the green and red gown would fight anyone who bid. 

“Lexa Woods is an accomplished athlete. She’s an Olympian for her native Argentina, enjoys a hearty red wine, and spending time with her ponies. We’ll start the bidding at ten thousand.” 

“Fifty thousand,” Clarke called out after a few people lifted their paddles. 

It grew a little quieter for a moment. 

“Sixty!” a voice rang out from another table, though Clarke couldn’t see where it was coming from exactly in the hubbub of the large hall. 

“Seventy,” another joined, the crowd getting into it. 

“Eighty!” Clarke interjected, earning a look from her mother. 

“Ninety.” 

“One hundred.”

Clarke lowered her paddle and rolled her eyes. 

All said and done, Lexa went for a record $183,000 and Clarke found herself somewhat proud of that number, just as Lexa looked floored by the final result before escaping backstage as well. But it was for charity, and Clarke was relieved to see that the winning bid was to an older woman. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep bidding on you,” Clarke mumbled as she plopped down onto the bed in the hotel room. “I would have easily spent a million dollars on you.”

“That’s kind, but I’m glad you didn’t,” Lexa smiled to herself. 

Carefully, she folded her coat and laid it over the chair in the corner before she sat down and began removing her shoes. The light from the hallway streamed in, casting one long line across the livingroom and bedroom, but Clarke didn’t move at all, just spread her arms wide and stared at the ceiling, full of too much mirth and spirits. 

“Are you going to take that dress off for bed? It doesn’t look too comfortable to sleep in.” 

“Take it off for me.”

“Hopefully my lunch date will stay a little more sober than you.” 

“I doubt it. I know Mrs. Winston and she’s about as dry as a… as a wet mop.” 

Lexa shook her head and went about the task of undressing her girlfriend, grateful to have made use of their time together before the event. She knelt at the edge of the bed and began with the shoes, gingerly unstrapping them and slipping feet from them. 

“I would have bid on you more.” 

“I know. I wouldn’t have stopped if it were you.” 

“Afraid I’d run off with some hedge fund manager?” 

“Terribly afraid of that.” 

“Nah,” Clarke murmured, lulling her drunken head to the side slightly. “Not with how good you look in a tuxedo. Holy fuck.” 

“And I couldn’t care about a stupid lunch when you look like the most wonderful present waiting to be unwrapped,” Lexa promised. 

“I’m drunk but I think you should come up here and kiss me right now.” 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Leca shrugged before eagerly agreeing.

NEXT

[stxrrywildflower]

pride and joy

pairing - bau team x teen!reader

summary - you feel neglected after rossi reconnects with joy

warnings - none

word count - ?

you had to find out from morgan of all people what was going on with your dad.

like most days, you had headed right to the fbi building directly after school. whenever the team didn’t have a case, you just met rossi at quantico and stayed until he headed home. sure there were days where you went home instead but you loved being around the bau team, especially because they were more then happy to joke around and even help with homework.

today was no different. rossi had given you your own personal visitors pass awhile back. after flashing that to the security guard with a smile, you were let in and headed over to the elevators.

spencer and emily were the ones to greet you when you stepped out into the sixth floor. “oh hi!” you greeted, not expecting to see them out of the bullpen. “hey y/n, we have to head down to the police station to pick up the usual batch of reports. everyone else should be inside,” emily explained.

with one final wave to the two agents, you pushed open the glass doors and stepped in. just like emily and spencer had said, almost everyone else was in the bullpen. j.j. and derek were talking at their desks while hotch was up in his office. the only issue was that your dads office was completely empty.

derek smiled when he noticed your noticed your presence and motioned for you to join them. you grabbed a chair from one of the desks and pulled it up so you could sit. “little rossi! how was school?” derek questioned. you laughed slightly at the nickname. “eh it was okay. i’m just happy summer vacation is soon,” you started, “hey where’s my dad?”

“i’m not one hundred percent sure but i think he’s out for a late lunch with joy,” derek replied, looking towards j.j. for confirmation.

“yeah he’s with joy,” j.j. piped up from her desk.

you spun around, extremely confused at that statement. “who’s joy?” you asked.

both j.j. and derek’s heads snapped up at your question. you could tell a silent conversation was going on between the two as you just continued to look back and forth. “you don’t know?” j.j. finally said. “know what? you’re kinda scaring me,” you spoke shakily.

derek motioned for you to follow him. you left your backpack by his desk and walked up to the conference room. j.j. was right behind you though she stopped in to talk to hotch. finally, once she returned, the two stood in front of you while jumped up and sat on the table. “can you please just explain what’s going on?” you pleaded.

“my dad has another kid?” you spoke up after j.j. and derek has explained, “i have a sister.” the combination of desperation and slight anger in your voice made both of the profilers shoot you sympathetic looks. “look y/n, this whole thing has been a shock to him and he’s just trying to reconnect with her. but trust me on this, he loves you all the same,” derek reasoned.

you really didn’t know how to describe how you felt. the only emotion you could feel was betrayal. your dad had been gone recently, not to work late but to go reunite with his secret daughter he couldn’t even tell you about.

“i’m going to head home. dad isn’t here anyway so i don’t want to bother you,” you mumbled, getting off of the table. j.j. and derek looked at each other once more. they knew it must have been like a bomb of information being dropped on you. “i’ll lead you out,” j.j. offered. derek shot you one more smile as you exited the conference room and headed down the catwalk.

you didn’t get to confront your dad for two or so days. in that time, you did everything you could to attempt to distance yourself in such a short period of time. you didn’t go to the bureau after school but instead headed home to do homework. dinner was easily avoided as you had lied and said you had studying or didn’t feel great.

except, tonight you were set to watch henry while j.j. and will went out for a friday night dinner. you could avoid your dad as he was cooking on the stove and you needed to go through the kitchen to leave the house. sure, you could do continue pushing the confrontation off but if you did it tonight, you could leave and further distance yourself. after choosing the later option, you grabbed your bag and headed downstairs. once in the kitchen, you drummed your fingers against your thigh, waiting for the right moment to say something.

“why didn’t you tell me about joy?”

the question made rossi stop cooking for a split second before turning to face you. “what?” your dad asked. you knew he had heard exactly what you said.

“i went to the bau a couple days ago and you weren’t there. so i talked to morgan and j.j. and they told me you were out with someone named joy. well of course i asked who joy was and,” you trailed off at the end.

“look y/n,” rossi started. you cut him off, “all you had to do was sit down with me and explained the situation. but instead, i had to find out from one of your work friends that i have a sister. how do you think i feel?”

“figlia i’m sorry. i wanted to get to know joy before actually introduced you,” rossi attempted to reason.

“whatever, i have to go to j.j.’s anyway. her and will asked me to babysit henry tonight,” you sighed.

“you didn’t tell me that,” rossi commented.

“man i wonder what that’s like rossi?” you fired back. after picking up your bag once again, you left the house without another word.

that was the exact moment rossi realized he had really screwed up. you only ever called him ‘rossi’ when you were extremely mad. it only happened once before, when he had gotten hurt in a case and you had scolded him in the hospital.

j.j. knew you were upset the second she answered the door, still clipping a necklace around her neck. “hey j,” you spoke quietly, shuffling slightly out of pure nervousness. “i talked to my dad. well i mean define talked.”

that was explanation enough for j.j. as she pulled you into a gentle hug. “i’ll have plenty of time to dwell on it while me and henry hang out. you two go have fun,” you smiled, motioning to will who was just coming down the stairs. j.j. moved around the house, grabbing the last couple things she needed. “alright we’re heading out. you know where everything is and i’ll text you on my way home,” j.j. informed you. with one final goodbye, the two parents left the house.

after cooking dinner and playing with henry for a little, it was time to put the young boy to bed. he had been pretty resistant as always but after you promised to read a bedtime story, he was happy to go to bed. you read him one of his favorites. by the end of the book, henry was already closing his eyes. you smiled down at him before shutting off the lights and heading downstairs.

while henry was asleep upstairs, you turned on the tv to a random movie while you curled up on the couch. this was common for you, j.j. had been pretty direct with letting you know that you could watch whatever while you were over. as the movie played on, your mind began to drift into the current situation you were stuck in.

part of you understood your dad reasoning. while your understanding was pretty small, you still sort of got it. if joy was absent from his life for so long, he had the right to reunite with her and make up for the years lost. but was he replacing you? it sure felt like that.

but the other part of you was angry. you grew up having the bau team as your extended family and pretty much siblings. now, you had a sister. sure the whole relation was a bit twisted but joy was still your sister. you had every right to be owed at least an explanation on the whole thing. you didn’t even have to meet joy. correction, you didn’t even know if you wanted to meet joy.

it was incredibly dumb to be crying over but you couldn’t help the few tears that fell down your cheeks. you and your dad never fought. this whole thing was becoming increasingly stressful and not being able to talk to your dad was making it worse.

j.j. and will were back by the time you had managed to calm down. the profiler saw right through your facade of ‘i’m fine’ when she asked how you were. nonetheless, you had brushed off their offer of payment and headed home. watching henry was no issue and you were always willing to help.

by the time you arrived home, all the lights were off meaning rossi was most likely asleep. you wquickly got ready for bed, slipping under the covers after that and relaxing in for the night.

you ended up making the ultimate decision to just push all the emotions you were feeling in the back of the head. if rossi was genuinely more happy, then you needed to be a supportive daughter. it was the least you could do.

for the next week, you put on smile around your father. when school didn’t keep you busy, you always ate dinners with rossi or sat with him while he did paperwork. joy was rarely mentioned, and you were slightly thankful for that.

“dad! i’m home!” you called once you entered the house, slipping off your shoes first. “i can’t stay for super long. j.j. needs me to babysit again in i think about hour.”

your earbuds were still playing your favorite song as you shuffled through the house, swapping out your school bag for a backpack you took whenever you either went somewhere or babysat. before leaving, you figured you might as well get something to eat.

when you entered the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks. standing by the coffee machine was a brunette woman, dressed in a simple outfit of jeans and a sweater. she must have noticed your presence and turned around to face you, a slight smile forming on her face.

after taking your earbuds out of your ear and tossing your phone on the counter, you swallowed nervously. who was this woman? you knew rossi would never let anybody in the house and she didn’t exactly look threatening.

“ah, welcome home figlia. school okay?” your dad asked, suddenly appearing in the kitchen. you nodded as a response, keeping your eyes focused on the still mystery woman. “well y/n, i figured it was finally time for you to meet joy.”

your eyes widened slightly. standing right in front of you was the woman who had been on your mind for over a week. the woman who was your sister. and here you were, standing directly across from one another, neither moving to initiate a conversation.

“y/n this is joy. joy this is y/n,” rossi introduced, motioning back and forth. “well i need to head back to work. hotch had a case file he needed me to look at.” you absolutely couldn’t believe what your dad was saying. he was just going to leave you? not even bother to stick around to see how this would play out?

when rossi finally left, the door closing with a thud, joy finally turned to make eye contact with you. “so you must be my sister,” she started. “i could say the same for you,” you replied. a tense laugh was shared between you two.

“can i hug you?”

the question itself took you slightly off guard. “we just met and you already want to hug me?” you asked though your tone was extremely light-hearted. “i mean yeah, if it’s okay with you. i’ve missed out on way to many years with both you and dad. i just figured a hug could be the perfect start to our new sibling bond.”

with a smile on your face, you stepped forward hugging joy tightly. the whole thing just felt natural, like a hug you would receive from a sibling after something good happened in your life.

when rossi returned a little bit later, just like you, he stopped once he entered the kitchen. joy was cooking over the stove, most likely a lunch for the two of you as you talked on and on from the counter. the senior profiler just smiled at the interaction.

he finally had his pride and joy together at last.

[jamies-latex-lust]

Kylies Double

The Kardashians were a very popular family rich and powerful each new daughter grew up to start their empire. Perfumes, clothing, make-up and more none of them stopped spreading their name and raking in millions while doing it.

However such popularity comes with risks, many didn’t like them for numerous reasons and safety had to be a priority in their day to day lives.

This led the family to brainstorm and come up with the idea of the body double program. A job listing for experienced individuals to fully become a client in looks and personalty. They acted like a clone attending events, posing distractions and other tasks in their clients stead.

The job had recently been posted online and gained much interest. The Kardashian household was in need of a body double but details remained secret to interviewees only, but the opportunity to become a Kardashian and be adored by millions was a great deal as far as most people thought.

And this is what Garry thought to, Garry had been many famous people over the years and was well rated for saving his clients worlds of trouble by allowing them to be in two places at once. He was keen to prove his skill with a higher challenge. And word had come across his desk about the new opening so without delay he got straight to applying online.

The form was a typical application. Name, age, gender, previous experience it was no sweat for Garry by this point with the amount he filled in. He hit the send button after he was done and waited for confirmation. After a while however he noticed an odd red mark beside gender almost as if he hadn’t picked an option yet despite selecting male but after he went to click on it, it approved and Garry had applied successfully.

A day had passed and Garry got a call, he was booked to visit the family at their home in a few days to introduce himself and get to know them all. Garry jumped with joy and got straight to preparations. As the days went by Garry became more excited he always liked the show and the family personally.

The time at last came and Garry waited outside his house and was soon picked up in a very luxurious limo and treated to free champagne on his way to the kardashians home. Wow what a life he thought.

The approach to the house was stunning, such a perfect staple of power lit up bright and proud up the driveway. As the limo pulled up the driver led him into the house allowing him to take a seat in the lobby and await a member of the family to greet him.

After a while though the butler came to greet him. He expressed his apology that the family had to attend an emergency and only one would be able to meet him today. He nodded and understood the lifestyle was always a busy one with them but with the sound of heels clicking echoing through he hall he heard the one member coming down the stairs, looking to them he saw sexy boots and a swing in their step before seeing their face.

It was Kylie Jenner and she looked stunning. With a flick of her hair she looked rather confused at Garry, looking him up and down she seemed to be trying to work something out about him, she thought to herself for a moment as Garry stood rather nervous with a smile until she smiled to herself and held out her hand.

“Hello I’m Kylie nice to meet you!”

She spoke with a seductive tone. Garry would be lying if he said he wasn’t starstruck.

“Wow... Hello Miss Kylie Nice to meet you too I’m Garry.”

He spoke with a nervousness in his voice such a powerful well known woman shaking his hand.

“Welcome to my home. I’ll get right to it so we can begin immediately. The family is in need of a body double by this weeks end for an important event. The family will be attending a catwalk show to promote our new line of clothing however I have been booked to do a playboy shoot worth thousands I cannot miss.” Garry nodded but was unsure what his role was in all of this.

“And so I need you to be me and go with the family to show off some cute outfits of mine on stage! I’ll train you on how to shake your stuff just right but we’ll have to get you ready today for the weeks preparations.”

Garry raised his brow.

“I'm sorry Miss Kylie but I don’t do gender swaps I thought this would be for Rob or someone.” Kylie pouted and huffed before thinking of a plan and holding back a giggle.

“Ah... that's an issue. No matter I have an idea to solve this but ill need you to come with me so I can show you or you won’t believe me.”

Kylie took Garry by the hand and pulled him along up to her room. Garry was a little confused but didn’t want to disappoint the lady and besides a free tour of the house with a gorgeous woman was always worth playing along.

The pair entered the room and Kylie rushed to her closet. Garry looked around in awe at the luxurious fur bed and expensive furniture. He took a seat while he waited feeling the soft fur on his hands, he smiled wide he was honoured to be in such a place, to feel such a place.

After a moment Kylie retuned with a box and a spray bottle. She sat the box by his feet and the bottle on the side before standing in front of Garry with a smile.

“Here open this box and see what my genius idea is!”

Kylie gave Garry the box and he opened it slowly after looking at her rather confused but curious. He gasped nearly dropping it as a perfect replica of Kylies face looked back at him eyes closed. Kylie took it and the suit below and unrolled it out next to her showing a perfect formed and very nude body of Kylie herself as a rubber doll.

“Cool right? I had it made a while ago I used to have my friend dress in it and we’d prank people as twins. With the amount of money thrown into it it’s super realistic and you’d never know the difference! It even seals without a zip! So cool what tech you get when you’re rich.”

Kylie opened the suit up by simply pulling the back apart. No zips no nothing to show it was a suit aside it’s limp structure. Almost like a real flesh in play doh form.

“I think I understand Miss and it’s very cool indeed but no I cannot I don’t do women and know nothing about how to act like one. It’s not my speciality.” “I’ll teach you! it’ll be easy! You just got to smile and sway your hips the suit does the rest even the voice!”

Kylie held the suit out to Garry.

“I’m sorry. I should go.”

Garry stood and walked to the door, it pained him to disappoint Kylie but he couldn’t agree to such a weird idea. Kylie grew angry throwing the suit on the bed as she took the spray bottle, grabbed Garry and pulled him back into her arm spraying a weird pink liquid into his face.

“Ah what the fuck lady! Is that mace! Why are you so pissed!”

Garry stumbled and fell to the floor, his sight grew hazy and dark as his brain became foggy. Kylie smiled as her face faded from his sight.

“You will be me. One way or another.”

Kylie whispered as Garry passed out.

As Garry awoke the room remained blurry and dark. Only one shiny object swung ahead of him. As he came to Kylie sat on the bed while Garry laid tied down to it. She smiled a wicked smile as she held a watch. Garry’s eyes looked from Kylie’s eyes to her swinging watch and back again it was all so enchanting drawing him in.

“ Kylie? what... what is this... how did...uh my head...”

“Shush now little Garry. Just look at the watch and drift deep into your mind. Let me inside so I can show you the way to your future, our future.”

Kylie made a good point but Garry knew not why. His eyes drifted to follow the watch back and forth as he tried to resist, he went to get up but he felt so weak and helpless like hos body wanted to stay.

“You will become Kylie Jenner. My twin sister. You will ware my suit and look like me in every way. I will train you each day until the show on Friday. The day before the show you will get advanced surgery. It will shed my suit from you and mould to my perfect form permanently and forever. You will be mine forever. Kylie Jenner.”

Garry squirmed as the words echoed and burned into his memory. He knew not what foul mind trick this was but he had to get out. He started liking Kylie’s plan and that wasn’t good after hearing what it was.

“No... I won’t!... Kylie Jenner... Im Gar... Kylie...Jenner. Let me go damn you!”

Kylie smiled as she caressed his cock. His urges and horny state made his mind beg for Kylie’s touch, her words and her body.

“Let her develop. Let her take control. Become my slave and be transformed into my sister. I will shape your mind. Then your body. Once you break this suit will show you what you’ll become.”

“Oh god, I can’t move... Kylie.... Love Kylie...No ... become her... sister... Ah!”

Garry felt himself fading as the mantras and trance lasted for hours on a loop. Soon Garry’s mind could take no more and became automated to Kylie’s will. To her entire being.

“You are now mine.” Kylie whispered.

“Yes Mistress Kylie. I will become Kylie Jenner. I will be your twin sister. I am ready for the first step mistress.”

Kylie smiled as she lowered the watch and uncuffed Garry from the bed. She got to work slowly stripping him of his clothing and applying a fine layer of shaving cream to his skin. She removed all trace of hair from his face and neck downwards with a razor leaving him smooth and silky soft to the touch.

Kylie took some lube and rubbed it over Garry making him slippery and shiny. She then took the suit pulling the back open and clicking her fingers.

“In.” She ordered.

Garry nodded pushing his legs into the suits tight grip one after the other. Kylie pulled the suit up over his hips and over his shoulders, pushing his arms down to the attached delicate hands. With a simple pinch she sealed the opening pushing the artificial skin together causing it to be flawless and smooth on Garry’s back like it had never been opened.

Garry now had the body of Kylie from the neck down. Every curve, wide hips, big ass and bigger breasts it all looked real and identical. Kylie sat Garry down on his new giant ass and gathered his hair into a wig cap before she caressed his smooth face while moving a mirror in front of him. Garry saw his sexy new body and still male head but could do nothing while stuck in trance. In his mind he yelled for her to stop but only he would ever hear it.

Kylie leaned in and giggled whispering into his ear.

“Welcome to your new life Kylie.”

With them words she pulled the mask over his forehead pulling hard as it slowly lowered over his face. Garry lost sight of himself to darkness as It tugged and stretched until finally popping on with one last tug, his nose, mouth and eyes lining up perfectly. Kylie sealed the mask to the suits neck forming one whole body with no exits, she took one of her silky black wigs styled to her current hair and placed it over Garry’s smooth head, pushing the roots into the suit as they took hold.

Lastly Kylie took the outfit matching her own from the draw and snapped her fingers again causing Garry to adjust his pose and allow Kylie to slip on the sequin dress and tighten it closed with the zip and strings before stepping back and smiling proudly.

“Open your eyes Kylie! Take a look at yourself!”

Garry opened his eyes the suits lids fixed to his own. To his shock and horror he had become Kylie in every physical way. Each curve, long nail and strand of long black hair was exact to Kylies. He watched as he smiled to himself brushing the hair from his face. He had no control over ho body it was like someone else had took over this new Kylie admiring her new form.

“I love it sister. I am now Kylie Jenner. And soon I will become Kylie in full for you.”

He said in a much higher voice.

“Good Girl, then let the training begin and ill book your surgery!”

As the week went on Kylie took her new project to a professional hypnotist friend of hers. He took the following days to carefully craft Garry’s mind into Kylie’s mind. He implanted thoughts of riches, sexiness and stardom into his brain.

More and more Garry became less, he became less robotic in responses and the giggles and smiles of Kylie Jenner started to take hold. The day before the surgery the hypnotist snapped his fingers one last time and an excited Kylie came to, smiling and winking at him fully converted and trained ready for the last step. As Garry was now fully replaced.

“Thanks Doctor I feel great! Now I need to go get ready for surgery tomorrow! My sisters are not the only ones that can get a perfect body with money!”

The new Kylie leaves to attend her appointment as the hypnotist smiles and waves. She arrives at her appointment and is prepared for the advanced surgery bot as her sister the original Kylie stands watching through the glass. And before long the advanced surgery machine got to work on her soon to be twin.

“No going back now Garry.” Kylie whispered with a wicked grin.

The suit is slowly removed from the unconscious Garry and stored away before the now more feminine looking boy is changed.

Injectors insert and pump collagen into his lips as each one slowly inflated and plumped to the perfect kissable size. Each breast had an implant inserted and silicone flooded into them creating two giant round plastic tits that sat on his chest. The same implants are added to his butt as each cheek inflates bigger and bigger and the iconic family bubble butt bulges out fake, firm and large begging to be spanked.

His waist is pulled in and fixed into place as a serum is injected into his abs causes a sexy toned female belly to form, lean and slender. Hips are then pulled and fixed to a much wider shape as his cock is pushed and altered by many instruments becoming a tight fully functioning pussy already wet with lust.

With thicker thighs and thinner arms and legs the last body adjustments are done and his face is prepared. Next to his plump lips his bone structure is altered and reformed to the same shape as Kylie Jenner. High cheek bones and a smooth round curve to his jaw line are sculpted while his brows are plucked and make up is painted onto his face. Long blond hair is transplanted into his scalp and brought to life as a natural silky lock. With a final skin smoothing and tone altering adding a slight tan the machine quickly heals his body with a special spray and the new Kylie is complete.

Original Kylie smiled as she joined her sister by the bedside. The new Kylie  awakens with a moan and a gasp feeling the oestrogen flood her system and her sexual organs activate.

“Mmmm hey sister.... how do I look?”

The new Kylie asked.

“Perfect sister. Gorgeous and sexy. Fake and curvy. You do our family proud!”

The original Kylie smiled showing her new twin a mirror. The New Kylie gasped and smiled pressing her manicured finger to her lips and chest, her ass and new pussy causing a moan of lust as she explores herself.

Shortly after she giggled with excitement and joy and pulled her sister into a hug.

“I love you Kylie!”

Original Kylie smiled and embraced her twin. Her plan had worked perfectly.

“I love you too Kylie. Come on lets get you up and back home, we need to get you ready for tomorrow! Your sexy dresses need to be seen!”

New Kylie giggled and left the ward with her sister returning home. The next day new Kylie was driven to her VIP room at the show and dressed into her sexy latex dress. A team of professionals styled her hair and did her make-up making her look flawless.

A photographer managed to take a picture of the new Kylie on her approach to the show. She smiled and blew a kiss as she walked by. The post online fooled everyone into thinking that it was the real Kylie Jenner but in the end they were right. She was Kylie Jenner now.

Joining her family who also assumed it was the original Kylie with them the world watched on as the new Kylie showed off her fetish range of tight and shiny clothing to the crowd. She loved the spotlight and all her fans, she was made for this she felt it in her heart.

How lucky am I to have been born into such an amazing life! She thought to herself. I am Kylie Jenner. And I am a goddess!

_

Links:

Main Page: http://jamies-latex-lust.tumblr.com/

Caption Page: https://www.deviantart.com/mistress-jamie

Donate (All donations are anonymous):

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[benmyjet]

Rewind (Lucy Boynton x Reader Fic)

Pairing: Lucy Boynton x Reader (modern university time frame)

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Despite your pre-existing judgement, you find yourself being pulled towards your new neighbor.

AN: Hi!! This is my first fic ever and I plan for it to be a multi-chapter one! This first part is just more of an expose of reader and lucy’s relationship, you’ll see more of their dynamic (and angst 😈) in the next chapter 🥂I’m baby and a beginner so please let me know your thoughts and ways to improve!

~~~~*~~~~

Coming back home from the first year of uni was like entering the real world after 12 years of solitary confinement. Fresh food from a stove rather than a water heated metal dish. A plush queen bed with natural daylight from your room to prick your eyelids rather than the squeaky twin size mattress that you find yourself waking on top of after the boys down the hall set off the smoke alarms for vaping. Again… 

Perhaps the only con to coming back home was all the old retired foggies that surround you. It was refreshing but lonesome after living among the hoards of young adults that don’t know what to do with their lives. Not to mind though, it was sound sleeping for you without any loud music.

“Y/N!” Your mother calls from downstairs.

“Y/N!”

With the exception of your mother.

You roll off your bed. Glancing in the glass reflection of a picture frame, you don’t look too hot. Your skin greasy from sleep and the acne creams that you applied the night before. 

“What mum?” You drawled as you plopped down the stairs, sitting on the last step

“Look! The new family who bought the house is moving in. They hauled three bookcases out the truck already.” 

Out of the passenger side of the truck popped out a girl with mid length brownish hair. Her frame quickly ducking out of view so she could enter the house.

Your mother continues“She seems like your age, you think she’s from your university?” 

You peer again trying to get a glimpse. Her hair now tied sloppily in a bun as she picks up one of the boxes. You peer down to see an all girls college shirt covering her whole frame. Mary Scott University.

It may have been just your own prejudice or your jealousy of someone so effortlessly beautiful but you didn’t see any hope in the new girl on the street. 

“Jesus Christ” you glance at your mom

“What?”

“She goes to that all girls school—“

“It’s not a bad school Y/N, your dad’s cousin went there-“

“And look where she ended up! She dropped out of dentistry school and is making jewelry for a living!”

“Y/N, don’t judge people so quickly, how do you even make friends in school?”

Annoyed, you bulged your eyes out. In a normal school not an all girls school where they wait til marriage for someone to sexually awaken them.. you thought.

You take one last look at the new movers and retreat to your bedroom. Under the covers you can only find yourself thinking about the new girl.

~~~~*~~~~

The next day your mom calls you down again with more gusto and a sweeter tone.

Interesting… Only until you can hear an unfamiliar voice downstairs you assume there could be some visitors. 

“Yeah, hold on!” You yell out as you try to fix your appearance. You tie your hair up and pull down your night shorts from under your large shirt.

You walk across the catwalk to see below your mom talking to the new girl on the front porch.

She was dressed in a racer back tank top and athletic shorts with a tennis racket bag strapped to one shoulder.

Shit shit shit shit shit!

Your first impression isn’t gonna be strong or even on the same level of confidence that she exudes. Her sweet smile shows off her pristine white teeth. Damn, when was the last time you did a whitening strip?

Her gaze finds yours and you start to feel your hands clam up a little.

Her bright eyes beam and cheeks lift up . “Hi! I’m Lucy!” she says with a small wave 

Your lingering gaze on the way her top hugs her waist is cut short from your mother.

“Y/N, could you walk Lucy to the tennis courts?“

The tennis courts were the first thing that anyone could see when they entered the neighborhood. Right next to the clubhouse and playground adjoined to it. Not too hard to find. But with your mother’s hard smile and urging eyes, you can tell she wanted to make a good impression.

“Uh yeah! Sure let me just-”

“Please don’t go out wearing that.”

“I know ma- I’m gonna go change-”

“Wear something nice—”

“I got it!”

As you see Lucy smile a little bit, you give a flash a teeth before you dash up the stairs in a frenzy to find anything cute. A whole tennis outfit at noon, God she really is Mary Scott material... You suffice for a college T and jean shorts as everything else was either sweaty and stained. You pick off the toothpaste stain on your shirt the best you can before you run downstairs , hearing your mom drawl how you’re not as active as you were before.

“Okay mom you can stop talking about how I’m a glob of fat now.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow at the toothpaste stain and as she raises her hands to examine it you swat it away

You glance at Lucy and give her a big grin “Okay, let’s go!”

~~~~*~~~~

As you both walk out of your front yard to the trail to the recreation area you turn to Lucy.

“So it’s Lucy? Right?”

She grins, “Yeah, and is it Y/N? Am I saying that right?”

“Yeah! You’re good.”

She cocks her head to your shirt. You suddenly feel more aware of the toothpaste stain. 

“So.. you go to Baker’s?

“Yeah! Are you in uni yet?”

“Yeah, I go to Mary Scotts.”

“Kind far from here isn’t it?”

“We used to live a bit further, like 5 hours away so I’m happy for some closer storage for all my college shit.”

Thank fucking god! You curse! I don’t have to watch my tongue.

You and Lucy continue to cycle about and discuss normal college student ice breakers. Despite what you thought, all girls college doesn’t seem that bad, There’s a mix of students in Mary Scott’s area with the other universities nearby. 

“So what’s fun around here?” Lucy asks “Besides the elusive tennis courts you’re taking me to.”

You begin to say something but close your mouth and furrow your brows in deep thought. Lucy chuckles as you draw your mouth in a thin line.

“Honestly… I can’t really say. Most of the neighborhood is just older people, but even when I had friends around we just drove around spending money on food. Was it the same where you used to live?”

“ Not really. We lived more out of the suburbs and I had a few friends around. We mostly just sat around my attic and gossiped”

“Gossiping is the universal binding for all teenagers with nothing to do”

Lucy gave a small chuckle to that and you both fell into silence. You start to overthink what you just said. 

Does she think I’m some vapid image obsessed person? Does she think I’m boring? Ffffuckkk Y/N why do you have to be so weird- Your thinking is interrupted as you reach the courts and Lucy turns to you

“Do you.. uhm do you wanna play with me? I was just planning to practice against the wall but I brought my other racket. Not that this was my plan all along ! But that I sometimes bring two just to kinda feel it out until I’m in a groove or whatever…”

Ahh so she’s nervous too. 

“Nah I understand and yeah! But just to warn you I have ZERO hand-eye coordination.”

Lucy smiles and pulls off a corded hair tie from her wrist and hands it to you, “Do you wanna tie up your hair?” 

You smile and nod and flip your head upside down to gather your strands together between the cords. 

After 10 minutes of playing tennis, only one round ending in a very successful back and forth, you both sat down on the court together rolling the ball back and forth with your rackets. 

 Lucy laughed at your jokes and you laughed at hers. With each time you mention the becomings of an inside joke you see her eyes crinkle and a full toothed smile emerge from her face. 

“Have you moved in completely?”, you ask.

“No, not really, like I still have my clothes to fold and books to organiz-”

“ ...and you came out here to play tennis?”

She rolled her eyes and grinned “ I have all summer to move in” 

“ and then move back in for university” you pause for a moment “Do you need any help? I’m very experienced with placing books upright and folding fabric into 4 sided shapes”

Lucy turns and lifts her brows, “ I don’t know in my house we can only fold our linens into 7 sided heptagons… but I suppose we can use your lifting for the piles of books we have”

She glances at your arms.

“Put those arms to work”

You scrunch your face together and glance between her and your arms. 

“Okay! I get it! So you have all summer to move in and I have all summer to build up my guns.”

Lucy face turns to worry “Oh no! I didn’t mean it like that, you have nice arms Y/N that’s what I am trying to say”

“Aw, well these babies only come out when I’m picking up like Cheerios from my floor. And after failing to hit your throws for like 2 hours.”

“Yeah you really weren’t lying about coordination”

“Hey! I can do other things”

“Elaborate?” 

You begin to speak with confidence but it falters as you can’t seem to find anything worth bragging about. Until...

“You know what, I’ll show you, whenever you want at your house”

“Okay,” Lucy pauses “are you doing anything tomorrow”

“Might be busy with another girl from Mary Scott university beating my ass in tennis but I’ll push her aside just for you” 

Lucy scoffs “ Okay, so maybe 12?”

“That’s when I wake up”

“1?”

“You know let me just give you my number and you give me a wake up call.”

“God, you are true Baker’s material.”

 Seeing as the sky was turning pink, you and Lucy returned to your street, earning a few bug bites on the way back.

“Welp, it was nice to meet you Lucy, I’ll see you later”

You reach your arm out for a hand shake.

But Lucy’s arm invited you into a small hug, a distance between both your chests. You were a little stunned, but wrapped your arms around her anyways. Lucy parted first, with a “Bye Y/N” and a small smile. You couldn’t quite place the small jump in your stomach when she said your name. Turning around you walked back into your house, hoping she’ll remember to call you tomorrow.

~~~~*~~~~

AN: ty for reading and let me know your thoughts! I’ll be posting the next part in two days!

[prosaicswirl]

One of Us

Aka day 1 of short story slam. (It’s near midnight here, so uh… maybe I won’t post so late tomorrow… yikes). I followed @short-story-slam​‘s prompt: Your protagonist discovers they’re on a date with a wanted criminal. (~1.5k words, no editing, under the cut). Has some assassin’s creed vibes but nothing explicit.

Warnings: Death, mild gore (blood), fighting, chased. (I think that’s it?)

It was a great date until it wasn’t.

Larika was dressed up for an evening at the carnival like she was promised when they matched with each other online. There were leather bracelets all up and down both her forearms that gave way to the rather plain outfit she chose. Most people write her off as a hippie, but she always knew better.

She was the kind of girl Larika always lusted after. The ones with the confident eyes, the small smirk, and the touch aura that made her heart melt. And the muscles. Those were always a bonus. And really, it was a great date. Top three for sure in Laika’s books. The carnival was fun, she got all the cotton candy she wanted, and even a few stuffed animals from those rigged carnival games.

Stuffed animals that were now lying in the mud as they sprinted away on rooftops to get away from the cops.

Of all nights to get found…

She brushed her fingertips over the secret knife under her jacket and pondered how much bloodshed Emilie was willing to see. She was tough, been through her own obstacles, but she was a civilian. Not an assassin like her. So, as she let Emilie run ahead, Larika knocked out the beams supporting a door, and it slammed shut between them. She looked in the shocked eyes of her date moments before she had to turn and whip out her blade.

With deep breaths, she evaluated the outcomes. On one hand, she could fight her way through the crowd, pray she doesn’t get hit by a bullet, and risk getting her face completely exposed, but on the other, she could run. The side alley branched out in this part of town, and she could probably find a fire escape and lose them in the buildings.

Finding Emilie again covered in blood was not something she wanted to add to the ever-growing list of awkward moments on dates. The footsteps were approaching and she needed to make a choice. She ran away.

Halfway up the ladder, she noticed a balcony across the way from herself and she leaped backwards, twisting in the air so her arms could hold onto the railing in time. She was a little short though. Only one hand made it onto the railing and the other hung by her side precariously. She was in the process of lifting her self up when the shouts of police got closer once again. Well… a long career cut short with her being caught as a result of mistiming a jump of all things.

Out of nowhere, a hooded figure popped out of the room and grabbed her wrist, lifting her up so she could roll onto solid ground. While she was panting, the two of them pressed their backs up against the wall and waited with bated breath. After a few moments, and the confused barking of dogs, the footsteps moved on, and Larika let out her breath.

But it wasn’t over yet.

“Hey, I have something to say—”

“Not now.” Larika winced at her own tone of voice. Too harsh. She stood and offered a hand. “We’re not out yet. They’re still looking for us, and they still have this area lock down.”

Emilie gave a grim nod and took her hand. “Let’s move then, yeah?”

Larika took the lead, agility really coming into play with how fast she slid form hiding spot to hiding spot. She made no sound, shadow only showing for a quick moment before being swallowed again, and found herself in front of the back door of an abandoned factory. It’s dark energy and musty air made her close her eyes and think of where she started. It was too dark to see details, but she felt like she knew just how to get in.

Both women were breathing hard, hands on their knees and eyes wide, but smiles wider. The door was locked, but that was hardly an issue after what they just ran from. All Larika had to do was get on her knees and pick the lock. Once the door swung open, she took another whiff of that stale air before stepping on the tiled ground. Her shoes make click clack noises as they slunk around the place.

“Not really used to these places, huh?” Emilie whispered when they stopped behind a control panel of sorts.

Larika took one look at those soft sneakers her date was wearing and shrugged. “Wasn’t expecting to be here.”

Emilie made a hiss-like noise, and nodded along. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“Good news, these aren’t cops,” Emilie muttered, making Larika snap her gaze over to where the other woman was frowning.

“How do you know?”

“Their uniforms aren’t the same. The police logo is supposed to be above the flag, not below.”

Larika slowly nodded and together, they took slow steps up the stairs and to the second floor. As they were about to clear the top step, a dog barked, and started pounding its way towards them. Larika gave Emilie a nudge and the two of them took off running. As she got to the end of the catwalk, they ran into a problem. And of course, it was the fact that it was the end. They could jump onto the hanging pieces, but with the guns that were starting to fire, told her that she’d probably get shot on her way down. A small breeze on her sweating skin made her look at a window where the smell of fish and the roaring of water drew her attention. Right. How could she forget. The river.

“Do you trust me?” Larika asked.

With a cautious look between her and the oncoming dog, Emilie nodded. Larika pointed at the open window, and Emilie understood, albeit with a look of horror.

It took two strides to the window. One foot pushed herself forward while she crossed her arms and legs. The moment she hit the water, her feet slipped up and she resurfaced in time to watch Emilie copy her.

They reached the shore and helped each other get out of the water. They had crossed the river into poorer parts of the city. They were almost home-free. That was until Larika led them down an alley that turned out to be a dead end. The thing about slums was that the rich, upper-class folks didn’t want them there. So the redesign of the area had already started, huh? However, those damn dogs were still after them. She flipped her hood on and got ready to face the mystery force.

“Which one of you is Emilie Andrews?”

…What?

It took all her training not to look at her date… the supposedly famous gang leader in the west end. The posh feared her, the desperate loved her.

“Were you going to mention that at all?” she murmured, too quiet for the enemies to hear.

That damned smile. “Let’s get out of this situation first.”

Larika quirked her mouth. “Are you afraid of blood?”

“Who do you think I am?”

“Give me cover than, and don’t shoot me in the back.”

Before the counter question was asked, she lunged at the first opponent, bowling him over and stabbing him in the neck. The spurt of blood surprised her, but was nothing new. She then shouldered another man to the ground, ending his life in a similar manner. The metallic smell of blood was filling her nose and she soon heard an exchange in gunfire. In front of her, two men fell backwards, blood spurt clear on the walls behind them.

This was not the time to fangirl over Emilie’s arms as they handled the gun with a smoothness not even Larika could finesse. The fight was quick – not what they were expecting. Perhaps the crowd of fake cops could’ve taken Emilie down, but no one expected a world-class assassin to join her.

“So?” Larika panted as she pulled Emilie over a fence and away from the crime scene. “When were you gonna tell me about your… job?”

“Well, you never asked.” Emilie bend down to tie her shoelace, though Larika was almost certain she was fighting a blush. “And anyways, I didn’t know you were one of us. Who are you?”

“I’m not… one of you per se, but close enough.”

“Hitman?”

“The best.”

“No way,” Emilie gasped as she stood and made a motion for Larika to follow.

“Way. But I should head home. This was…” Larika trailed off, at a loss for how far this date had strayed from what she expected.

Emilie had a smile though. “A good first date?”

And Larika couldn’t do anything but smile back at those dimples. “An interesting one. For our next one, I’m thinking we just order in food and enjoy a movie together.”

Those sparkling eyes widened at the mention of a second, and they shared a quick hug before splitting up.

It was a great date, and it ended as one too. Not that Larika would say that out loud.

[chocoluckchipz]

Forbidden Love That Wasn’t - 2

< Previous                                                          Read on A03, FF.net. WattPad

Adrien had hoped that he wouldn’t dwell on the fact that Marinette had been in love with him for years. It was a shocking discovery, to a degree, as it wasn't the first time a girl had had a crush on him, and it had never especially bothered him before. Not this time, though. This time it was different. This time it was Marinette, someone too dear to his heart to just ignore and eventually forget about. This time it didn't seem like just a crush as well.

Adrien survived the dinner at Kagami's purely on an autopilot, years of training in etiquette coming in handy in front of Kagami's mother, who barely differed from his father in her attitude. He barely slept at night, though, and found himself terrified to get out of the bed the next morning. As Gabriel's leading model and his only son, Adrien couldn't miss his work, especially not right before the Fashion Week. Marinette, as his father's protégé, couldn't do that either. Usually, Adrien looked forward to their frequent random meeting throughout the building but not today. Today Adrien wasn't sure if he was ready to face her yet, not when he didn't think that whole feelings ordeal through. Yet he had to go.

Grouching, Adrien rolled out of bed and got ready, a tiny hope sprouting in his chest. If he remembered correctly the last days before the big show were always extremely hectic. For him, it meant countless hours of catwalk practice with his colleagues, multiple last-minute fittings to do the necessary alterations and even photo shoots. Clothes, changes, cameras, makeup, shoots, ramp, walks, lights… Typically it would all fuse into a single mess of activities and Adrien would just blindly going through the motions. Marinette would probably be just as busy. He knew his father, he’d make her work to her limits at times like those. Therefore, there was a high chance that they wouldn’t even see each other or at least they wouldn’t have time to talk when they did. He could survive that until he could give it more thought and come up with a plan of action.

Except that didn’t happen. The first person whom Adrien noticed upon entering the building was Marinette. And not an angry to a sobbing or even a pouting Marinette but a smiling one with his customary morning baked goods from her parents’ bakery in her hands. Adrien gawked and looked at his empty ones. He completely forgot! It was their tradition ever since Marinette had started working at Gabriel – she would bring him treats, and he would pick up her favourite coffee from a little coffee shop by his house. Then they would meet here at exactly seven in the morning and do an exchange before riding an elevator together to their respected floors. This little ritual of theirs was the highlight in Adrien's day. Only today his hands were empty. In his mental hassle, Adrien had forgotten, and even if he would remember, he would've probably assumed that Marinette wouldn’t have wanted a coffee from him anymore. Yet she greeted him with a smile.

“Good morning, Adrien.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot your coffee,” Adrien blurred out, accepting a box with two croissants and two eclairs inside. “Double?”

"I didn't know if you'd be having breakfast with Kagami, so I brought extra for her just in case." She smiled again, and Adrien felt his heart tightened. "And don't worry about the coffee. You seem to have had little shut-eye, so I'll make myself some at the staff room."

“How did you know?” Adrien murmured following Marinette to the elevator.

"If you're asking if it shows then no. Not much, but unfortunately for you, I know your pretty face too well."

She smiled yet again, and Adrien felt the corners of his lips lightly twitch. He could never resist smiling with Marinette. The elevator door opened and they stood in silence waiting for people to exit. They kept quiet riding up, their usual carefree chatter never staring. Despite the smiles, the air felt tense, and Adrien didn't know what to say so he just took one the croissants and pretended he could stomach it. Marinette didn't say anything either until he reached his floor. Then she wished him a great day with a smile yet again.

Like usual.

Like nothing had happened.

Like Adrien, the love of her life, hadn't announced yesterday that he was dating another girl and broken her heart in the process.

Adrien felt baffled. Shouldn't Marinette be upset? Shouldn't she be showing the signs that not everything was okay and fine? At least a little? Maybe Nino was just pulling his leg, and something entirely different had happened to Marinette yesterday, and they just wanted to keep him in the dark for some reason? Adrien bit into the last treat into his box. Something obviously wasn't right. He'd need to investigate into that. He'd watch Marinette at work and talk to Nino more time because things didn’t add up and he wanted to know what was going on.

An opportunity to observe Marinette more closely came slightly faster than he'd hoped. About half an hour after he'd showed up for his fittings Marinette entered the room and immediately headed his way.

“Bonjour again, M Agreste,” she said playfully and bowed. “Your personal slave has arrived.”

"My what?" Adrien almost choked on air. Marinette laughed and gave him a pat on the back.

“Sorry,” she smiled after making sure he was alright. “Maybe my word choice was a bit too much. I am just a bit exhausted to think about my wording-”

“I see you’ve already briefed him in,” Nathalie’s voice sounded from the side. “In that case, I’ll leave you two to it.” She vanished as fast as she’d appeared.

Adrien blinked. “Briefed me in on what?”

"You don't know?" Adrien shook his head, so Marinette explained. "The girl who usually fits your clothes fell ill and won't be able to make it for the next few weeks, so your father asked me to do the final fittings for all of your clothes now and assist you during the runways- and all of the photoshoots and I think he also said whatever you need me for. Basically, as I said, I am your personal slave, M Agreste, the next ten days or so."

"Isn't it a bit below your position?" Adrien frowned. Marinette was Gabriel's protégé, not just any regular employee. Gabriel personally handpicked her to bestow all of his knowledge upon amongst a huge crowd. To be honest, he wasn't even looking for a protégé. He just saw Marinette's designs and loved them. Adrien was super proud. Marinette deserved it. She was that talented. Why he would reduce her to a simple seamstress position was beyond him.

“I guess.” Marinette shrugged. “But who am I to argue with the boss? Now if you don’t mind - less talk, more work. We have a lot of it. So, scram and start doing something.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Adrien saluted and went to change into his first outfit. They spent most of the day together, laughing, chatting, working and just having a great time, easily slipping back into their usually carefree ways. Adrien was wary at first, but when Marinette didn't give him any hints that she was even the slightest upset with him, he relaxed. Marinette looked happy and content. She smiled, as usual, her banter was just as friendly and carefree as always. Like nothing had happened, like nothing between them had changed. By the end of the day, Adrien was more or less assured that Nino had lied to him and Marinette had cried for some other reason than of a broken heart from Adrien. That was why the first thing Adrien did when getting home late in the evening was to confront his friend through a text message.

[Adrien: Marinette doesn’t look heartbroken, Nino. What’s really going on?]

Nino’s reply came almost immediately.

[Nino: She’s always put your happiness above her own]

[Adrien: What’s that supposed to mean?]

[Nino: Marinette always did what was best for you, Adrien, at the expense of her own happiness. Do you remember the scarf your father gave you back in lycée?]

[Adrien: Yes. The blue one. I still have it]

[Nino: Well then check the signature, because it was Marinette had who made it for you, and when you showed up the next day all happy because you thought it was from your father, she didn't say anything to keep you happy. Or that time when you lost that book and your father grounded you? Ever wondered why he suddenly changed his mind about your school attendance?]

[Adrien: No. Not really? Why?]

[Nino: Marinette found your book and went to your father and told him you were innocent because she stole it from you. Heck, even that first date you took Kagami to? She went along only because you asked her to, despite being heartbroken to see you on a date with another girl. That’s how much you mean to her, Adrien. She is probably hiding her true feelings now too, to keep you happy.]

Adrien put his phone down and plopped on his bed. He closed his eyes and tried to remember everything he knew about Marinette, sought to evoke from memory every moment of not only today but in general, every moment he spent with Marinette and compare them to how he saw her treat others.

And suddenly he saw it. Little differences he never paid particular attention to before because that was how best friends were supposed to treat each other. Right? Apparently not, and to prove himself wrong all he had to do was to compare himself, Alya and Nino, Marinette’s other best friends. Her eyes had never lit up so bright for them as they did for him. Her smile for him had been different – softer yet a bit nervous. Her voice would match, and sometimes she would even stutter. That was adorable. Marinette would often straighten up and try to subtly fix her hair and clothes. She would hold herself differently and seemingly would enjoy his company more than that of the others. How could he not notice it before?

His phone beeped.

[Nino: Listen, bro. I'm not trying to guilt you or anything. It's a complicated situation, and there is no easy solution. But you made your choice and we all, including Marinette, respect it. Kagami is cool, and if she makes you happy, we are all aboard that ship. But feelings are messy and unpredictable. Neither you nor Marinette can control who you like, BUT she’s your friend first of all, and she’s doing her best for you. She always did, and I'm sure you can you return a favour and do the same for her, right? Just give her some time, be her friend, and I'm sure it all will get settled.]

[Adrien: Of course. Thanks, Nino. Gtg now. Ttyl.]

Turning his phone off, Adrien wished goodnight to Plagg, who seemed to sense his unsettlement and kept quiet for most of the day, and crawled into his bed in hopes of falling asleep. Yet his thoughts were far from resting because as he was analyzing Marinette's behaviour, her crush was not the only thing that had become apparent. Today Marinette's smile was tenser than usual, her chatter was all over the place, and somehow, she seemed overly chipper, probably trying too hard to blind him to what she was really feeling. He noticed it now - Marinette was not exactly herself today either. Adrien grew up in the world where “fake it til you make it” was a part of mandatory education. He knew the difference. It pained him to see it in Marinette who was one of the sincerest people he knew. Everything to make him happy, Nino said? Adrien sighed and shut his eyes. He needed to rest and think about this properly on a fresher head. If only he could.

The next day started almost identically only today he brought Marinette her coffee and happily exchanged it for another double dose of sweets. They had another day of fittings to get through, and this time Adrien paid better attention. By the end of the second hour his fears were confirmed, and now there was not a doubt in his mind that Marinette did love him and she did everything possible to make him happy, even hiding her pain under a perfectly manicured smile and fooling him with her happy babbling. And yet, despite everything, Adrien had not once felt being blamed or accused by her. Quite the contrary, in Marinette's presence, he felt strangely calm and happy. It was only when she left the room that the gloomy thoughts attacked.

Just after lunch something that Adrien had ever expected, something he would never forget, happened. Even before they could resume his fittings, Nathalie interrupted their work and announced that Adrien is needed for an important, last-minute photoshoot and Marinette would have to stand in for his partner because none of Gabriel's models were available at such late notice. None of Marinette's protests that she wasn't a model and could never possibly make it happen worked. Nathalie only stated that M Agreste felt like her education would greatly benefit from visiting the other side of the camera and experiencing not only the designing of clothes but also modelling it to the world.

“Either way,” Natalie stated at the end. “You either take this rare opportunity M Agreste is willing to give you and learn a valuable lesson or prepare to be dismissed from this company. Gabriel Agreste does not waste his time on persons unwilling to do whatever it takes.”

“Come on, Mari,” Adrien gently put a hand on her shoulder. One of his best friends was already feeling like crap because of him, he didn’t want his father to make her even more miserable and possibly cause her to lose her job. He had to help. “It’s just a couple of pictures. I’ll help you.”

"I don't think I really have a choice," Marinette nervously chuckled and followed Nathalie. Upon arriving in the studio, though, both Adrien and Marinette almost died inside. The photoshoot was beach themed, and nothing but a couple of swimming trunks for Adrien and a few different bikinis sets for Marinette were to be worn. Marinette gulped, Adrien leaned closer and whispered,

“Think of it as a beach day out with a friend. We went to the beach together quite a lot, right? This is just like that.”

"Yeah," she whispered back. "Only there were no cameras and no so many dressed people around, and we weren't the only ones in the swimming suits."

"You'll get used to that after a while-" Adrien was going to add something else, but their makeup assistants arrived and whisked them away into different directions. When Adrien re-emerged back on the stage, Marinette was already there, dressed in nothing but a red, polka dot bikini. Her face was covered with a pinkish tint already, but as soon as her eyes locked on nothing-but-a-black-swimming-trunk-on Adrien, it changed to crimson. On his side Adrien unexpectedly found himself paying attention to Marinette's figure. Somehow, just like her feelings, he didn't notice that before either. Well, Adrien always knew Marinette was beautiful and worked on her body hard, but he had never really noticed just how good she looked until now. Especially in his Lady's themed outfit.

Trying his best to not stare, Adrien composed himself and did what he had promised – guided Marinette through the shoot. It wasn't that hard. There were no overly intimate moments. They just had to show a pair being happy to be soaking up the sun and having fun at the beach. Still, Marinette didn't look very comfortable at all, seemingly bothered by the lack of coverage and the novelty of being in front of the camera. Despite that, she managed to do a great job, and Adrien was proud… as well as finding himself unable to sleep most of the night again. This time for a little bit different reason, though. Marinette was his friend. She was the kindest, smartest, the most amazing person he had known. He couldn't think about her in that way. He couldn't imagine all of the perfect curves of her body and remember every touch they shared. He just couldn't. Especially not since he had an official girlfriend.

The next day brought little relief as the first thing in the morning Nathalie had found them and declared that Gabriel didn't like yesterday's photos so the shoot would have to be urgently redone. For Marinette's education's sake. Today. With a few adjustments, he felt were extremely necessary. Specifically – swimwear would be replaced by lingerie.

"You'll need to go two directions—" the pair vaguely heard Nathalie give instructions to the photographer, "The girl teasing, and I quote him ‘the hell out of the oblivious idiot and a sensual near kiss that would make him hold his breath and wish for a cold shower. He needs to survive, but a near-death experience is welcome'. End of quote. Any questions?"

Adrien swallowed and looked at Marinette. How was he supposed to play an oblivious idiot? He'd never done that before, and he doubted he could do that now when he still remembered every perfect curve of her body. And what was that nonsense about cold showers? He did quite a few intimate-ish photoshoots before, and none of them had put him in that desperate of a state. Plus, Marinette was his friend. His father knew that. He couldn't expect him to- Adrien shook his head and glanced at the said friend again. She didn't look to be faring any better as she was nervously glancing his way. "I can't do this," she mouthed to him, her face bright crimson red. "No way. I can't."

“We’ve got a coach for you, Mlle Dupain-Cheng,” Nathalie commented, coming up from behind to stand in front of the terrified girl. “M. Agreste understands that this is your first time doing such a shot and seeing how unnatural you looked in the pictures from yesterday, he is willing to facilitate you as much as needed. Marcel would be arriving shortly to teach you the art of seduction and to help with the photoshoot.”

Adrien was certain Marinette was going to faint any moment. He was about to combust himself, so he reached over, grabbed her hand and said, "Marinette? I can talk to him. I am sure we can find someone else if you aren't comfortable with this-"

"That won't be happening, Adrien," Nathalie interfered. "First of all, M Agreste had left for the day and requested not to be disturbed by anyone, including you. Secondly, even if he were present here, do not forget that this is a part of her education and until she passes his standards photoshoots won't stop. I saw yesterday's pictures. You two looked good together, but there has to be more spark to make it really work, more emotions, more fire. That's why he asked Marcel to come today, and unless Mlle Dupain-Cheng wants to say goodbye to her fashion career permanently, she'd better do it."

“Are you threatening her?” Adrien looked scandalized. “Nathalie, you can’t do that!”

"I certainly can, Adrien." Nathalie raised her eyebrow. "Marinette signed a contract with your father that granted him almost unlimited powers over her professional activities over the next few years, and he wants her to do this photoshoot. Frankly, I don't see why this is such a big deal? Of course, we can always replace you and give her another partner. You father just felt she'd be more comfortable with someone she knows, but if you don't want to help her, I'd be more than happy to bring in Antonio. He'll be free in an hour."

Adrien almost growled. That bastard of a playboy-extraordinaire Antonio was not touching Marinette. He’d be damned if he’d allow that.

"I'll do it," he seethed through his teeth but Nathalie didn't seem to pay any attention to him already as she looked at Marinette and continued.

“I said it repeatedly, Marinette. This is a part of our education. How can you understand fashion more intimately and be at the top of your game if you don’t dip your toes into every sphere of its domain? All Gabriel wants is to make you, Marinette, an extraordinary designer, someone who would not just sweep this world by storm but someone who would become an icon and a legend for generations to come. He thinks you have that potential if you’d be strong enough to do whatever it takes. The question is - do you think you can do it?”

With every word, Adrien saw Marinette's face transform. It went from reflecting an absolute horror to mirroring a steely determination in a matter of a minute, and by the end of Natalie's speech Marinette made up her mind.

“I can do this,” she said. “Just like you said it, Adrien - it’s just a couple of pictures. Not a big deal at all. Where do I go to put this on?” She grabbed the first set from the hanger. It was a red bra and panty set with black lace detailing. Marinette looked at it and added. “Before I change my mind.”

"This way." Nathalie motioned to the side, and soon Adrien was also pulled away in the opposite direction.

The next couple of hours were one big slow torture because all of the pieces his father selected were perfect on Marinette, as if tailored-made especially for her, to accentuate hers and no one else's features. Breathtaking. It rendered Adrien speechless even from the sight alone. Besides, Marcel proved to be an expert and transformed a shy and somewhat innocent, naive image of Marinette he had, into a sexy seductress Adrien had never thought possible. Under her new teacher's guidance, Marinette completely disarmed him. She made his breath hitch, and his heart skip a beat more than he cared to count. She touched and teased him so expertly that his face and ears seemed to obtain a permanent crimson blush and everything but her vanished in thin air. About halfway through Adrien found himself unable to even focus on his own moves, losing himself in the feeling of merely holding her close and taking that in. His thoughts blanked on everything but how tender, how soft her skin felt against his, how sweet and addictive her smell was. The way her breath burned his skin he would never forget and the moment she locked her eyes on him just before that final near kiss Adrien died.  

"Yes!" he vaguely heard Marcel, and the photographer let out a cry of victory. "Yes! Perfect! That's what we are looking for! Great job you, guys! You are free to go."

Marinette immediately pulled away, and Adrien exhaled. She shyly smiled at him and quietly apologized before dashing away to change into her regular clothes.

“You can go now, Adrien,” his assistant called. “The shoot is over.”

He nodded and slowly headed back to his changing room, hoping that his Father was as willing to accommodate him as he seemed to be inclined towards Marinette and there really was a cold shower somewhere in the building with his name on it. Once inside, though, when no one was looking, Adrien, brought his trembling fingers to his burning lips. Was Marinette's apology due to the way she made him feel during the shoot because he knew she had noticed. Heck, the whole set had noticed! Or was she apologizing for that brief moment when their lips touched just before it was all over? He couldn't be the only one who noticed that either, right?

Adrien sat down and groaned, running his hands through his hair. It was hard to judge because, despite her newfound boldness, Marinette was just as crimson as him all throughout the experience. She was still his awkward, clumsy Marinette and not all of her moves were as smooth as Marcel wanted them to be. But still, none of the other models he had ever worked with, even the more professional ones, had ever held such overwhelming power over him. He didn't expect that. He was baffled by it. In a matter of hours, Marinette managed to completely erase any thoughts of any other woman from his mind and by the end of the session he was utterly lost to the girl who was just a friend.

How was he supposed to behave around her after this and how was he supposed to look Kagami, his official girlfriend, in the eyes after today? He hadn't lied when he said he would do his best for their relationship. He did. He really tried, but while the spark was barely alive between the duo, a sudden thunderstorm developed between Marinette and him. His knowledge of how exactly Marinette felt toward him wasn't making it any easier.  

Quietly Adrien swore under his breath and got to dressing. He had a dinner date with Kagami tonight. They wanted to coordinate their activities for the start of the Fashion Week in three days, and this mayhem would have to wait.

Next >

[justanotherdumbfanfictionbl-blog]

Sadness

A/N: Hi guys! Welcome to my first fanfic on my new page! (mini explanation here) hope you like it! 

PSA: There’s A LOT of swearing!

It was just supposed to be another shitty day at Riverdale High but your world is turned upside down when the schools bad boy and the captain of the football team both take an interest in you. What will you do? Go after the loner you’ve liked your whole life or will the captain steal your attention? 

Sadness - Chapter 1 // C2 // C3

All Eyes On Me

Fuck Mondays. You thought to yourself as you quietly groaned, turning to your left in bed, putting off getting up for a few more seconds, the sound of your alarm blasting through your ears. The desire to stay home and eat ice cream was overwhelming, wrapped up in blankets and drowning in pillows as Jawbreaker plays on your laptop, truly heaven. 

“Y/N, are you up?” your mum screamed from the bottom of the stairs, bursting your bubble as you realise staying home was sadly not an option. “Yeah!” you scream back, throwing your soft warm blanket off as the crisp cold air nips at your bare legs. Instant regret. You throw your legs over the edge of the bed, letting them dangle for a second before pushing yourself forward letting your feet slam to the floor with a thud. You freeze, waiting for your mum to scream at you for banging but after a few seconds of silence you let out a sigh of relief, she mustn’t have noticed.

What the fuck am I going to wear? You think to yourself as you scan the room, looking at various articles of clothing scattered around. Nothing caught your eye so you shuffle to the wardrobe, the cold settling on your bare skin. You scan through a sea of black, almost instantly clocking your leather jacket, snatching it off the hanger, you throw it on the bed behind you before continuing to look. Fuck it, you think to yourself as you grab a pair of black skinny jeans and a black crop top, that’ll do, now I just need shoes and a bag. You pull out your black heel boots, black and gold bag and call it quits. Outfit done, now makeup. You pull out the basics, foundation, concealer, brows, lashes and a red lip. After throwing your hair into a basic bun and tying it with a black scrunchy, you think to yourself. done, as you let out another sigh, already running late for school. 

In a rush, you bombard your way through the house. As you stomp into the kitchen you’re greeted by the usual “morning sweetheart” from your mum and a grumble from your dad as he sits at the island, laptop in front of him as his eyes glued to the screen, “morning” you mumble back, heading straight to the coffee maker, grabbing a cup ready to pour a drink but your mum takes the cup before you can, shaking her head as she hands you a glass of orange juice instead, you roll your eyes before chugging the entire thing, slamming the now empty glass on the counter, using your thumb to clean your mouth as your mum shakes her head at you, you smile, giving her a kiss on the cheek before heading to the front door “bye, love you!” you yell as you walk down the hallway, they shout back “love you, have a good day!” you smile, knowing you won’t but appreciate the optimism regardless. 

Music blasts through your ears as you walk through the small town of Riverdale, watching as everyone around you walk in groups, laughing and chatting to friends as you walk alone, like always. Rolling your eyes as the cheerleaders lock arms. strutting down the street like it’s a catwalk. Sad, you think to yourself as you continue to make your way to school, wishing it was over already. Then you see him, Forsythe Pendleton Jones III. Like you he didn’t have friends, he sat alone at lunch and threw himself into his writing or a book. People avoided you both like the plague. He’s a walking piece of art you think to yourself, eyes locked on him, not even noticing the football player running right towards you as his ball spiralled in the air. 

BANG. You fall to the ground with a thud, the captain of the football team falling straight on top of you, he panics, quickly stumbling to his feet before offering you a hand with a small smile, you reluctantly take it as he lifts you up without a struggle, almost shocking you with his strength. “Sorry, I didn’t see you” he looks down, grasping the football in his hand as his friends and onlookers chuckle to themselves, watching Archibald Andrews talking to the emo girl. You brush yourself down and offer him a small smile, “it’s okay” you mumble, adjusting your bag, ready to get out of there. He nods in response “I guess I’ll see you around them” he stumbles over his words, walking backwards, you nod and smile again “yeah, see you around, Andrews” he chuckles, his smile growing as he turns and jogs back to his friends. That was the most you’ve ever spoken to anyone and everyone noticed. All eyes were on you, stunned that the emo girl said more than two words. You feel your face begin to burn as embarrassment settles in, panicking you walk to school as fast as your legs can take you, wanting to get away from everything and everyone. Not noticing Jugheads eyes locked on you the whole time. 

The second you make it to the big blue double doors you shuffle your way through a sea of teenagers, clumped up in groups as they whisper and gossip about you and your unfortunate incident with Archie. Anxiety eating you alive, you rush to the girl's bathroom, wanting nothing more than to be alone. Throwing the door open you were greeted to an empty room, thank fuck, you thought to yourself, throwing your arms against the sink, staring blankly into the mirror. Silence filled the room as you started to relax, getting ready to go back out and face the world, that is until Cheryl Blossom and her two minions throw the door open with a loud thud, making you jump. “Get out!” she screeches at you “suck my fucking cock bitch” you bite back as she grins, you gave her exactly what she wanted but right now, you couldn’t give a fuck. “Funny, now GET OUT” she screams as you sigh, rolling your eyes as you grab your bag and head for the door, she blocks your path along with her dolls, you look at her, raising a brow as she just smiles back. “Can I fucking help you?” you ask, getting irritated “I just think it’s cute that you have a little crush on Archie” you laugh in her face, truly amused at the idea “I’ll pass, now move” your laughter turning stern as her smile fades, clearing the way for you to escape. 

Making a b-line towards your locker you keep your head down, not wanting to deal with anyone else’s bullshit, but before you can get there you’re stopped by  Kevin Keller, the theatre director, greets you with a smile. “Hey Y/N, this year we’re putting on a Mean Girls play and I was-” before he could finish his sentence his eyes drift above you, mouth slightly agape before he mumbles something about talking to you later and scurries off. Confused you turn around to find Archie smiling down at you, you make eye contact, furrowing your brows. “So er” he mumbles, using his right hand to rub the back of his neck, eyes glued to the floor, “I just wanted to apologise again for-” you cut him off “it’s fine, honestly. It was an accident and neither of us were paying attention” you smile nervously, all eyes were on you, again. It was a nightmare come true. He smiles and nods before apologising again, he turns to leave, stopping midway “hey, we’ve got a game tonight, you should come” he suggests, you hesitate for a moment “maybe” you mutter, slowly starting to walk backwards, he smiles before turning completely and walking away. 

What the fuck was that? You ask yourself, shaking your head as you finish making your way to your locker, ready to grab your books and head to first class. 

The rest of the day was pretty dull, you sat in class, barely paying attention as your eyes were glued to the clock on the wall, counting down the seconds until the final bell rings and you can throw yourself back under the covers and pretend the outside world doesn’t exist. 

The second the final bell rings you jump out of your seat in excitement, grabbing your jacket and bag as you head towards the door. Finally, freedom. You think to yourself, letting a smile etch its way onto your face as you look to the floor, hoping no one noticed but before you could leave the room you’re stopped by the tall red-haired boy you’d encountered twice already, “are you still coming to the game?” he asks with hope in his eyes, shit, you think to yourself, forgetting your previous conversation earlier on in the day, silence fills the air as you panic, not wanting to say no but not wanting to say yes either. He stands there and watches you as you scan through your brain to think of a suitable response. “Yeah of course” you blurt out in a moment of panic, kicking yourself immediately after. He gives you a big grin and nods “great! It starts at 7!” he chirps before strolling away, getting lost in a sea of teenagers shuffling to the exit.

“Fuck!” you mumble to yourself as you saunter through the halls, racking your brain for a way to get out of this. “I didn’t take you as the school spirit type” a smooth voice coo’s behind you, panicking you quickly turn around, only to find the tall loner standing behind you, one hand in his pocket as the other grips his bag tightly, a smirk smeared across his face. “I’m not, I just-” he stops you mid mumble “panicked? Couldn’t say no to the captain of the football team?” he asked, already knowing the answer, you nod. Smiling back at the beautiful bad boy. “I guess I’ll see you there then” he spoke softly, looking you up and down before giving you a cheeky wink as he wanders down the hallway, turning around to catch a glance as you continue to stare, dumbfounded by how the hell both the captain of the football team and the schools designated bad boy not only noticed you but also spoke to you today. 

What the fuck am I going to do? You ponder, a grin growing as you almost skip home, already planning on what you’ll wear to tonight's football game. You’ve gotta dress to impress, right? 

[theadventuresofalexandjake]

The Adventures of Alex and Jake Book One: The Lone Wolf Chapter One - 3.4k~

Chapters available immediately on Patreon for $5+ Chapters available here and on AO3 one week later.

((READ IT HERE ON AO3))

Chapter Two >>

I often think about what it means to be legendary. When I was in elementary school, there was this kid who could shoot milk out of his eyes. Everyone then thought he was legendary. I can’t remember his name now, but I remember the deed, so maybe he was. Still, I don’t think that’s the type of legendary that means something.

Jake gave me this journal to write down everything that happens so that we might become legends one day. I’m not entirely sure what he means by that. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean the “milk coming out of your eye” type of legendary, but I don’t see how we can be anything more than that.

He’s a sixteen-year-old high school student who likes soccer and has a crush on my sister. I know he’s been through some difficult stuff; I found him in the woods outside of town when he was fifteen, bloody and near starvation. Clearly he has a story. Every werewolf does. But he didn’t give me this to write down his story. If he did, he would’ve told me what it was.

But I don’t think I’m supposed to write down my story either. I’m seventeen (no, sorry, I’m eighteen now. Do birthdays still count when you no longer age?), and I’ve never done anything legendary in my life. I think my father wanted me to. Ever since I was a kid I was told I was smart enough to do anything; to make millions and be successful and attribute it all to the wise teachings of my parents. That was a lot of pressure for a kid, and when I got into college I tried. I really did. But I choked.

They found me in my dorm bathtub, blood everywhere. I was supposed to die that day, but I didn’t. It was only three days later when the symptoms started that I realized what had happened. I became sensitive to light. I lost my appetite for food, but my thirst grew no matter how much water I drank. It was only when I almost attacked my sister Abigail, and she saw the fangs in my mouth that we figured out what I was.

Vampire.

That sounds pretty legendary, right? But I live in an apartment paid for by my father who has no idea what happened to me, writing freelance articles for online magazines, and I rarely go outside for anything. Me finding Jake in the woods had been a fluke. I finished the stash of blood my sister brings me too soon and grew thirsty. I went out into the woods to hunt an animal, and I found Jake instead. It’s honestly a miracle that I didn’t attack him, as bloody as he was.

He’s been living with me ever since, and I think he has the same expectations my father did. That I’m going to do something extraordinary one day.

I don’t know how to tell them that they’re wrong.

***

The ghost is Jake’s fault, naturally.

I’ve only just opened my eyes at ten in the evening to start my “day” when Jake suddenly accosts me. He jumps onto my bed and sticks his freckled face directly into mine. I can smell hamburgers on his breath. I turn away with a scowl.

“Alex! Wake up! That new club opened tonight. The Witching Hour. We gotta check it out!”

I pull the covers up over my head. “What is it about the past year that makes you think I’m the type of person to go to a club?”

Jake grabs my shoulder and shakes me. “You never go out. That’s why you should come with me tonight! It’ll be fun!”

“I doubt that very much.”

A pair of hands yanks the covers down from my face. Through strands of my dark hair, I glare at Jake, as he widens his bright blue eyes and pokes out his lower lip in a pout that I’ve never been able to refuse. With his soft white-gold curls and cheeks still slightly rounded from childhood, he looks like a freckled cherub. I know there’s mischief behind those wide eyes, but I find myself relenting before I can think better of it.

“Fine. Now get out of my room.”

Jake’s face brightens, and he beams at me. “You won’t regret this!”

“I already do.”

Unperturbed, Jake hops off my bed and bounds out the door. I lay in bed a few more minutes before sighing and pushing off the covers. Standing, I cross over to my closet, flinging it open and staring at the contents. Thanks to my father still paying rent and utilities on the apartment, I’ve been using the funds I get from my freelance work to expand my wardrobe. A rather impressive collection of clothes in black, dark purple, and burgundy greet me, and I contemplate what to wear before pulling together an outfit I deem club appropriate.

Jake smirks at me, as I make my way out of my room. “You really like to embrace the whole vampire thing, huh?”

I look down at my combat boots, ripped black jeans, studded belt, scooped neck burgundy shirt, and black trench coat. On my hands are fishnet fingerless gloves, and my eyeliner is dark and dramatic. I shrug. It’d been my aesthetic even before I was turned. I don’t see a reason to stop now. And hey, if you can’t escape it, flaunt it, right?

“What are you wearing?” I ask then, just noticing the ridiculous shirt Jake has on.

“It’s a doge!” Jake said happily, pulling on the hem to stretch it out and look down at it fondly.

“You’re seriously wearing a meme to a nightclub?”

“Why not?”

I shake my head and walk past him toward the door. “If anyone asks, I don’t know you.”

“But we’ll be arriving together!”

Ignoring this detail, I lead the way out of the apartment, making sure to lock it behind us. I slip the key into my pocket, making my way down the steps that would lead to the front door of the building. Jake bounces after me. I don’t know where he gets his energy, honestly. He’s already been awake all day. Shouldn’t he be ready to sleep after a full day of school and soccer practice?

“Hey, hey, look! It’s a squirrel!”

I grab the back of Jake’s windbreaker to keep him from darting after the creature. “Honestly, sometimes you’re worse than an actual dog,” I say, shaking my head.

“You’re just jealous because you can’t run after small adorable creatures.”

“Why would I want—”

“Hey, look! It’s Raphael!”

This time I stiffen, even as Jake runs forward to greet the young man walking down the sidewalk towards us. Raphael Mendez slows to a stop, an easy smile settling on his features, as he returns Jake’s greeting. When his dark eyes flit to me, however, his smile shifts into a smirk.

“Alex,” he says with a nod.

“Raphael,” I return flatly.

He only seems amused by this, which makes me hate him even more than I already do. One might think that I hate him because he’s the second-in-command of the werewolf gang Los Lobos Luna, but it’s not nearly that cliché. I hate him because he’s been an irritating thorn in my side ever since I took in Jake. He wants Jake for his pack, and he’s been doing everything in his power to manipulate Jake into agreeing. The only reason Jake hasn’t yet is because he knows the gang is into some pretty shady stuff, and he’s a good kid who doesn’t need to get corrupted by company like that.

Abigail says I don’t want Jake to join because then he’d be leaving me, but I’m not that sentimental.

“We’re heading to the new place that just opened up,” Jake is saying to Raphael.

“The Witching Hour? You know that place is haunted, right?” Raphael raises one black eyebrow, and he looks rather smug at the wide-eyed stare Jake gives him.

I roll my eyes. “There are no such thing as ghosts.”

They both turn to look at me.

“Says the vampire to the werewolves,” Jake says pointedly.

I stare off across the street, ignoring this, even as Jake turns back to Raphael.

“How do you know it’s haunted?” he asks.

“Strange stuff’s been happening ever since they started building the place,” Raphael says, sticking his hands into his tight skinny jeans. (Honestly. Why would a werewolf own skinny jeans? They’re just going to tear in half when he shifts. Wouldn’t it be more practical for them to wear giant baggy clothes? Whom is he trying to impress anyway?) “Workers falling off of catwalks, tools going missing, machines breaking down. The whole bit. Some even said they heard screaming, like a little girl was in pain.”

Jake’s enraptured. He leans in, and his bright blue eyes gleam almost green in the yellow light from the street lamps around us. He can’t honestly believe this. There has never been any evidence to suggest ghosts are real.

“Stories made up to make the place more interesting,” I say, stepping forward and taking hold of Jake’s elbow. “Come on, Jake.”

“But what if it’s true?” Jake asks, even as he allows me to pull him away from Raphael and further down the sidewalk.

“We can go home if you want,” I suggest, honestly hoping he’d take me up on that.

But Jake’s expression grows resolved, and I resign myself to a night at the club, as he straightens his shoulders and shakes his head.

“I ain’t afraid of no ghost!” he declares, before dissolving into giggles.

I release him and walk faster. Jake calls goodbye to Raphael before hurrying after me.

***

The Witching Hour looks like your typical city club built to appeal to the grunge and underground type of partier. The outside is shiny and new with darkened ceiling to floor windows spray-painted with neon colors that seem to glow. The sign has what looks like a full moon for the “O” in Hour, and the “G” in Witching is a black cat sitting with its back to the viewer and its tail curving. Rather on the nose, but I guess it’s what I expected. As we draw closer to the doors, I can hear the music pulsating from inside, causing the windows to vibrate with each drop of the bass.

The bouncer asks for ID, then stamps our hands, as we walk through the door. As he does, I can’t help but wonder what’ll happen once too many years have passed for me to match my ID picture. I can’t exactly hand someone my license in fifty years looking like I do now. Will I need to keep getting new IDs with different birthdates on them? Will I have to change my name and social security number every ten years? There was no way I could look older than maybe twenty-five with my current appearance. Could I pass for thirty?

As I’m stressing about this, I find myself suddenly in the center of the club. I didn’t even realize I was still following Jake. He’s thrashing around in front of me in some sort of dance move I don’t recognize. He looks ridiculous, honestly, and I can feel second-hand embarrassment squirm inside me. I take a couple steps away, not straying too far but not wanting to appear like I’m with him, either.

“Hey!”

A girl with long dark hair streaked with blue and red highlights grins at me, her teeth glowing in the black lights. She’s bouncing and swaying to the music, not quite on tempo, and her eyes look me up and down in a way that makes me distinctively uncomfortable.

“Are you a boy or a girl?” she asks, tilting closer to me in order to shout over the music.

I instinctively step back, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at the question. “Does it matter?”

“It might,” the girl says, winking this time.

I turn my gaze away to look for Jake, but I’ve lost him in the sea of writhing bodies. Almost immediately, my chest feels as though someone’s taken my ribcage and started squeezing. I turn away from the girl without answering her, scanning the area behind me, but there’s no sign of him anywhere.

“Who are you looking for?” The girl again, yelling in my ear.

I jerk away from her, bumping into a dancer behind me. It’s a taller guy, who grunts and shoves me back, sending me stumbling. My heart no longer beats, but if it did I know it’d be pounding rapidly. The music is too loud, and the air is humid with the smell of sweat and blood. I can hear heartbeats everywhere, disjointed rhythms that don’t match the music. There’s laughter and voices and colors, swirling, swirling, swirling . . .

And then everything goes black and silent.

Someone screams, which is followed by laughter. A few people groan and boo, and the DJ yells over the sound, informing us of a power outage. Everyone starts getting out their phones, using them for light, as they mill about and talk.

I still feel like I’m suffocating.

A hand grabs mine, and I almost scream. Almost. I catch it in my throat once I realize it’s only Jake, suddenly standing next to me. His curls are somewhat flattened, sticking to his freckled face with sweat. He smells like wet dog, but I honestly couldn’t care less in that moment.

“Alex!” he exclaims. “It’s the ghost!”

I scoff, glad to have something to focus on instead of my trembling hands. “It’s not the ghost. It’s just a power outage.”

“But it’s not even storming,” Jake says, shaking his head with wide eyes.

“A fuse could’ve blown. Wiring gone bad. There’s dozens of things that could’ve happened, Jake.”

“No, it’s a ghost. I can feel it.”

Almost as soon as he says this, there’s a flash of light near the ceiling. I glance up in time to see one of the black lights fall toward the floor. Without thinking, I dash over, shoving the two people standing beneath it. They shout in surprise and anger, but their eyes widen in horror, as the black light smashes onto the floor directly where they’d been standing.

“It’s the ghost!” someone yells.

Suddenly the club is a stampede, as people scream and rush toward the exits. Someone knocks into me, and I find myself falling. A foot stomps on my hand, and I grit my teeth against the pain, even as I force myself to my feet.

“Alex? Alex!”

I can hear Jake calling for me, but even as I stand, I can’t see him in the sea of escapees. Then suddenly he’s in front of me, grabbing my arms. The relief I feel is almost palpable.

“Come on,” I tell him, turning toward the doors. “We have to go.”

But Jake digs his heels in and doesn’t budge. He shakes his head. “We can’t go. We have to help.”

I stare at him. “Help? Everyone’s leaving.”

“Not them,” Jake says, shaking his head. He looks toward the ceiling, then, and I understand what he means with a sense of dread.

“No. Absolutely not. We’re not going ghost busting. We’re going home.”

Jake sets his jaw, his expression hardening in a look that I’ve come to know as his “stubborn glare.”

“You can go home if you want,” he says, releasing my arms. “But I’m staying.”

I glance longingly toward the doors. I didn’t even want to come to this stupid club. Am I really going to stay and help Jake find a ghost?

Groaning, I turn from the doors, peering up into the catwalks above the club’s dance floor. “Fine,” I say, shaking my head. “But I swear if we get our asses kicked by this thing, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

Jake has the audacity to laugh. “We’ll be fine,” he insists.

“You have no way of knowing that for sure.”

The club is nearly empty now, and even the DJ has disappeared. There’s a hum and then dim yellow lights come on. The backup generator, most likely. There are only a few people left aside from us, brave (or stupid) souls taking photos of the fallen light with their phones. One of them, a boy around Jake’s age with a stocky frame and a crew cut of brown hair, looks up and sees us. More specifically, he sees Jake. With a grin, he lifts his hand in a wave.

“Jake! Hey!”

Jake looks over, his expression brightening. I can hear the way his heart rate elevates, and a faint flush colors his cheeks, as he waves back. I frown.

“Who is that?”

“Brandon Reaper! He’s from my school,” Jake explains, as Brandon jogs his way over.

He has hazel eyes, and when he grins again, I notice he has dimples.

I hate him immediately.

“Hey, man, I didn’t know you were here,” Brandon says, as the two exchange an elaborate handshake. “Crazy about that light, huh?”

“Alex and I are gonna investigate,” Jake informs him, gesturing to me.

“Oh, hey,” Brandon says, holding his hand out to me. “Jake mentions you a lot. I gotta say, you look different than I pictured.”

I raise my eyebrows, not taking his hand. “How did you think I looked?”

Brandon shrugs, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It’s a letterman’s jacket, complete with the high school’s logo on the front. A sports man. Of course. Probably a football player, from the way he’s built. He’s not massive, though, so maybe he’s on the soccer team with Jake. Though I suppose he could be a quarterback.

“Jake mentioned you were gender-neutral and looked androgynous, so I guess I wasn’t expecting . . .” He gestures to me vaguely.

I reach up to touch the dark strands that rest against my shoulder self-consciously with a faint frown. “Not every androgynous person is white and five-foot-four with delicate features and a pixie cut,” I say with a little more snide than I’m necessarily proud of.

“No, yeah, for sure,” Brandon says quickly. “It’s cool, man. Er, dude. Uh . . .”

I sigh. “Look, I’m fine with any pronouns, just don’t expect me to conform to any gender stereotypes.”

“I call Alex ‘dude’ all the time,” Jake informs Brandon, laying his hand on his arm. “It’s fine.”

Brandon looks relieved. I just look at Jake’s hand, watching as it squeezes gently before falling away. An uncomfortable lump grows in my throat, and I clear my throat to get rid of it.

“Anyway, we were just leaving,” I say, tugging on Jake’s sleeve.

Jake pulls away from me. “No we weren’t. We were going to find the ghost!”

Brandon glances between us. “Ghost?”

“He thinks there’s a ghost,” I say, emphasizing how ridiculous I think this is.

“There is a ghost,” Jake insists, puffing out his chest. “I’ll prove it.”

He stalks toward the back of the club, then, where there’s a staircase leading up to the catwalk. Brandon looks over at me, but I keep my eyes on Jake, gritting my teeth and weighing the pros and cons.

“Are you two coming or what?” Jake lingers halfway up the stairs, calling over to us as he leans over the railing.

“Guess we’re going ghost hunting,” Brandon says with another grin before jogging to meet Jake.

I watch as Jake beams happily, and that lump returns. Only now it’s in my stomach, and it feels more like a heavy boulder pressing up against my lungs. Jake waves at Brandon, as he approaches, and the two of them speak briefly. I could hear them if I wanted to, but I find myself blocking them out.

I don’t like this. I don’t like any of it.

“Alex! Come on!”

Jake beckons to me, and I square my shoulders, making my way over to them. I might not like it, but I’m definitely not leaving Jake alone with Brandon. There’s something not right about that kid. He joined in a ghost hunt without batting an eye; like it was a natural thing most people did in an empty club at midnight.

He has to be up to something.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #192: Steel City Nightmare!

February, 1980

Weirdly my first thought was that this could be a Superman cover. Because Wonder Man is very red and blue and I somehow overlooked Iron Man at first. And punching a big glowy guy full of kirby krackle is just the kind of nonsense Superman would get up to.

And later in this issue, Wonder Man ends up in a situation that reminds him of “an old Max Fleisher cartoon” and takes a page from the unnamed hero thereof.

So I wonder (ha!) if its a coincidence or if I’m picking up on an intentional homage.

Anyway.

Last time: the Avengers won their freedom from Agent Gyrich’s restrictions by ditching their senatorial hearing to go fight Grey Gargoyle. There’s more to it then that but basically the very short time when Gyrich had much sway on the Avengers is over.

This time: A steel city nightmare.

We actually start with Wonder Man and Tony Stark touring a steel factory.

And the narration reminds us of the easily forgotten fact that Wonder Man aka Simon Williams and Tony Stark were once competitors. Until Simon Williams got in huge amounts of trouble for embezzling money and then agreed to let a Nazi scientist experiment on him and then died.

But this steel factory belonged to Wonder Man back before all of that and Tony Stark asked him to come on the inspection to help him decide whether or not to add the factory to the holdings of Stark International.

I might be a kind of insensitive gesture if Wonder Man gave a crap about his life as a businessman, which he doesn’t. He just seems kind of amused by the blast from his past.

Meanwhile nearby, some of the workers ooh and ahh over getting to see a real superhero like Wonder Man from so close.

The foreman, Joseph Conroy, brags about seeing Thor use this very factory to repair Mjolnir a couple years back. Conroy even found a chip of Uru afterward and made a good luck charm/keychain out of it.

One of the other workers says something weirdly threatening though.

One of the other workers: “Maybe you’d better switch to rabbit’s feet, Conroy. That lucky charm don’t seem to be workin’ too good lately... does it?”

Conroy nervously excuses himself to get Wonder Man’s autograph for his daughter.

Aww, Wonder Man actually has fans. Children fans.

But later as Conroy returns from getting said autograph, another worker jumps out of concealment and smacks him with an ore spoon.

Knocking him over the railing and sending him falling right into the furnace.

Where he just. Vaporizes. Eesh.

Alas Conroy. You cameo from a Thor comic, you.

Unfortunately, in addition to the tragedy of a man being murdered, him falling into the vat of molten metal also spilled some molten metal on the cauldron operator.

Who obviously runs off screaming, suffering terrifying injuries.

But the cauldron continues on its automated way, operating on a pre-set rate of flow which pours molten metal all over the manufactory floor.

Less than good.

There’s no time to get all the workers to safety so the crucible has to be stopped.

Tony tries to slip away to become Iron Man but Wonder Man grabs his briefcase from him and throws it across the factory to hit the control panel.

Leaving Tony Stark just sadly watching and thinking “Aw, geez. My armor...!”

Its like a brief but effective example of how secret identities can backfire. I love it.

And the gambit works. The crucible stops pouring.

But the already spilled metal is still flowing towards workers so Wonder Man jumps off the catwalk to go save the day.

Wonder Man: “Somebody’s got to stop that molten steel! And since I’m the only Avenger around, it looks like I’m elected!”

I do like Wonder Man sometimes. Despite his insecurity and self-doubt, when the moment comes he almost always steps up.

Anyway, this is the moment where Wonder Man takes some inspiration from not-named-but-totally-Superman cartoons, grabs some I-beams, bends them into U-beams, and dams up the molten flow.

And it works! You’re two for two on good ideas, Wonder Man!

Then he hears someone calling for help and he rushes in.

One of the workers tripped and someone got his fool ankle stuck in the stamp press.

He begs Wonder Man to turn off the press but Wonder Man doesn’t know how to do that.

Despite once being an inventor businessman, he thinks best with his muscles. So he decides to muscle this problem.

So he jumps under the press and holds it up, gloating that he once fought Thor to a standstill!

A steelworker: “But no one can hold a stamp press back! It’s set for fifty thousand tons!”

Wonder Man: “Don’t worry, friend -- I’m Wonder Man! I once fought Thor to a standstill! And if I can *ung* do that... s-surely I can *ghk* ... can *urf* f-fifty thousand, huh? HHEELLPP!”

Thankfully Tony Stark shows up, a sentiment some would say they never thought would be expressed.

He pulls the worker free and tells Wonder Man to jump clear.

Buuuuuuuuut.... Wonder Man accidentally.... stripped the threads on the thing.

If he jumps out head first, he’ll get a flattened bottom. If he jumps out feet first, a flattened head.

Tony Stark thinks of a third option though.

Grabbing Wonder Man by the belt and pulling him out in all one go so he clears the press.

Good job, Tony Stark.

Yet another sentiment that blah blah et cetera.

So here is part of why I find Wonder Man so endearing I guess. He sure does goof up a lot, often related directly to him bragging about how strong and cool he is. He’s a very human character for a character that’s no longer strictly human.

Wonder Man: “*Whew* That’s what I get for being cocky. Guess I still haven’t had enough experience as a super hero to anticipate all the angles. Thanks, Tony.”

MEANWHILE, AT THE MANSION OF AVENGE

A man approaches Avengers Mansion and tries to gain access with a card.

REJECTED

The security tentacles grab him and then a net is dropped on him, and then laser cannons activate.

So I guess the security system is working.

Agent Gyrich bursts out of the mansion and demands to know who this guy is and why he’s skulking about.

Sid Bloat: “I-I’m Sid Bloat, sir. I-I live down the street an’ I got this neighbor who’s been playin’ his stereo real loud, y’know? My landlord won’t do nothin’ about it, but since the Avengers are good-guys, I thought, well...”

Henry Peter Gyrich: “You mean you’ve attempted to breach a top security installation to solicit some of the most powerful beings on this continent... for a noise complaint?!”

Also the card he tried to use to gain access when prompted for a clearance card was a credit card.

I’m just flabbergasted by that.

I don’t know whether the line of thought was trying to unlock the high tech front door lock like you could with a less advanced lock using a credit card. Or whether he was trying to pay an entry fee. Good lord.

The Avengers all come out to see what the fuss is and Captain America tells the guy that the Avengers are a specialized organization and don’t reeeeeeeeally handle problems like noise complaints.

Gyrich tells the guy to go to the police.

Vision floats out through the wall and says he’s heard that the huu-man method in this situation is hitting a broomstick against one’s ceiling “can be an effective mode of communication in cases such as yours.”

Sid Bloat leaves to maybe take some of these suggestions into consideration but really is thinking he should have gone to the Fantastic Four.

I’m not going to look it up because I don’t want to be disappointed but if the concurrent Fantastic Four comic this month or the following month didn’t have Sid Bloat show up with his noise complaint then comics are a failed medium.

With that little nonsense over, Gyrich is satisfied that the security on the Avengers Mansion is adequate and that some random asshole off the street can’t just walk into the place like he did that one time.

He doesn’t like their newly won autonomy but orders are orders and he’ll be checking up on them from time to time. But for now, GOOD BYE.

And the instant he’s gone, the Avengers go ‘welp time to expand our roster just because we can.’

To be fair, they’re only going to ask Hawkeye and Yellowjacket. Two additional people plus I think Ms Marvel is sticking around because Scarlet Witch is still planning to take some ‘me time.’

Falcon actually suggests Hawkeye because he thinks it might ease the bad blood between Hawkeye and himself which-

Look, Falcon. I appreciate that you’re a nice guy who would think of Hawkeye when this opportunity came up. But the ‘bad blood’ is entirely on Hawkeye’s shoulders.

He’s blaming you for a thing you didn’t want to do but were emotionally blackmailed into by Cap to fulfill restrictions set up by Agent Gyrich. But Hawkeye took the brunt of his anger out on you, the Falcon.

Fuck ‘im is what I say.

Not that it matters. The contact number that Hawkeye left with the Avengers is out of service now that Hawkeye has a better gig and better digs working at Cross Technological Enterprises.

Meanwhile, Janet calls Hank “Giant Ant-Man Yellowjacket” Pym and lets him know that he can rejoin the team as a full-time Avenger but he’s enjoying having time to do pure research.

Also some chemicals are boiling over and he doesn’t want to be the jackass that spills chemicals on himself and gains superpowers. Nope, he’s the jackass that tested chemicals on himself on purpose without doing any kind of other testing on living matter first.

But me calling back to Grey Gargoyle and also throwing my hands up in defeat at the lack of safety protocols in comic book science aside, Hank hangs up on Jan to go deal with some chemicals that are boiling over.

Janet van Dyne, aka the Wasp: “Hank! What do you -- Hank? Hello? Ooo, Henry Pym, you’re infuriating! Just wait’ll I get home! I’ll show you! Or worse, I won’t show you!

Given what I know is coming, her trying to get him to rejoin the team has a foreboding feel to it. Geez.

Its true what they say. Not all of wisdom brings joy.

Later, after Wasp has gotten out of her superhero outfit to put on a nightgown to make a phone call to Hank and then gotten back into her superhero outfit to have a house meeting, uh, there’s a kind of house meeting.

Captain America: “Terrific. When we can’t add Avengers, they’re running out of our ears. But when we can add Avengers, everyone’s busy. Makes sense.”

Hah. A common problem to many in different permutations.

Beast suggests re-inducting Wonder Man. And I’m surprised it took so long for someone to make the suggestion. He was very recently with the team and verbally regretting that he’d have to leave it soon.

I guess they didn’t want to add too many people all at once and they wanted to soothe Hawkeye’s crybaby feelings and also wanted to let Jan hang out with her husband during superhero stuff.

But after that fell through, I’m surprised someone didn’t go ‘oh hey Wonder Man’ before Beast did.

But then, they’re besties. And I hope the X-Men never takes Beast back. Only bad things happen to him there. Or happened by him. I don’t think Beast would have broken the space-time continuum just to be a petty dick if he stuck with the Avengers.

Anyway, as we’ve seen, Wonder Man is in Pittsburgh with Tony Stark so why not bop over and surprise him with the offer?

But Vision notes that not all of them would be able to make the trip, seeing that Scarlet Wanda has her bags packed for her vacation time.

Vision: “Are you certain you must leave, Wanda?”

Scarlet Witch: “Yes, Vision. There are things I have to sort out. Things I’ve got to settle... on my own. Please try to understand.”

Vision: “Your decision is perplexing, my wife, and very human. I do not understand -- but I do accept.”

Vison + Scarlet Witch: “I love you.” -kiss-

Aww.

Geez. I’m really angry at John Byrne all of a sudden for no reason. Huh. Weird.

MEANWHILE, Pittsburgh.

The steelworkers set up a memorial for Joseph Conroy.

Since there’s nothing left of anyone who falls into molten slag, its tradition that the last ingot poured from the steel someone died in is set up on the grounds as a kind of tombstone. Tombsteel. Non-grave marker.

But the steel mill owner Vince Paretta is quick to reassure prospective buyer Tony Stark that this doesn’t happen often, swearsies! This plant has an A-1 safety rating! He then drags Tony off to finalize negotiations.

As the workers and executives leave the yard, the sky fills with dark roiling clouds. The recently placed ingot begins to quake and smoke and finally

OH YEAH

A giant naked flame man bursts out from within it.

Obviously, this kind of pyrotechnic makes some noise and inside the office, Stark, Paretta, and Wonder Man have heard it and see the fire man heading towards them.

Wonder Man tells Paretta to get his security team scrambled while Wonder Man goes to slow the thing down. But he tells Tony to stay right where he is, in the soon to be abandoned office.

Which conveniently gives Tony the opening to change into his armor.

Outside, this monster gets named in the most logical way possible. Some random thing that someone shouts at it, yelling "H-holy Hannah! That thing looks like a living inferno!” and thus we will call this creature Inferno. As the caption box lampshades “The description fits.”

Wonder Man rushes forward to fight the shambling mass of man-shaped slag. He just runs right up and puts all his strength behind one mighty THRAM of a punch.

“But Inferno takes that punch, and -- almost politely -- returns it!”

FWOBOMM and also a SKABASH as Wonder Man smashes through a wall, headfirst.

Iron Man flies up from behind the creature and attempts to take it down with a blast of repulsor. But the creature shoots some of its own molten slag substance at the armored Avenger.

He’s protected from the heat by the refractory coating on the armor but the extra weight from the cooling slag throws off his balance and he SPUTCHs to the ground.

And now that both he and Iron Man have been made fools, Wonder Man concludes that this Inferno is big trouble. He decides to activate the emergency beacon he was given when he became a backup Avenger.

But as he does, Inferno ominously looms over him.

IN THE RECENT PAST AT AVENGERS MANSION.

Jarvis is happy that the loosened restrictions on the Avengers means that he is allowed to perform monitor duty now. That way the Avengers are free to do the Avengersy stuff.

Makes sense.

You don’t have CEOs personally manning call centers. You probably don’t need a superhero to watch a bunch of monitors.

But maybe we should and do.

Anyway.

Just as Jarvis has said all of that, the emergency beacon goes off. Shortly, Ms. Marvel reports to Captain America that Wonder Man has activated his top priority emergency beacon.

Captain America: “But what could possibly be in Pittsburgh that could threaten Wonder Man?”

He was knocked out by a stone man once. Hell, he was knocked out by Beast once. Lets not act like Wonder Man’s durability isn’t highly arbitrary.

But here’s an additional thing. The beacon was designed to keep pleeping until shut off at the mansion OR if the beacon itself is totally destroyed.

And Wonder Man’s signal just stopped.

DUN DUN DUN!

Next issue: Battleground: Pittsburgh!

This is a two-parter and we’re only half done so I’ll have more to say when we finish that other parter.

One thing though: if the Avengers were going to end up going to Pittsburgh because of Wonder Man’s emergency beacon then why set up the plot point that they were considering visiting him to offer him membership on the team?

One or the other would have sufficed, comic!

Either they go visit and coincidentally end up there just when he needs help with a living inferno or they decide to offer him membership when he gets back from his trip.

I don’t know why this bothered me enough to comment on but that’s the world we live in now.

Hey, follow @essential-avengers. Not only for great content like this but older. BUT ALSO: I just remembered that I’d promised to cover some alternate Avengers if I hit 20 followers and we’re at 13. Which is more than half of 20 by at least three. If we hit 20 followers you can ask that I look at one of these significant alternate Avengerses. You could even ask me to take a peep at the Mangaverse Avengers or United They Stand Avengers, you bastards.

[gripefroot]

The Milan Job

The first thing Bucky notices about Stark’s Milan penthouse is that there are no doors. 

Well, there’s a door to the bathroom. But there’s not a single bedroom - the main part of the loft is open and surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, and a set of glass stairs lead up to a balcony where a half-dozen bunks are lined up neatly, beds made and looking pristine. 

Bucky hates it.  

“Are we serious about this right now?” Sam blurts, rolling his suitcase in as he stares at the balcony. “Because I did not come prepared to listen to Steve snoring for the next four nights.” 

“I don’t snore,” Steve protests, walking in behind Sam. He takes a look at the sleeping arrangements, and grimaces.  

“Wear ear plugs,” Tony says from the open kitchen, where he’s mixing himself a drink. “All the hotels are booked for fashion week - this is all we got last minute. For the record, it’s normally just a king-sized bed up there, because Pep and I don’t usually invite guests to our vacation homes. If you don’t like the bunks, we can switch it out and get sleeping bags.” 

“Oh, a sleepover!” Your gushing voice enters the penthouse next, trailed by Natasha. Bucky presses his lips together as he runs his fingers through his five-hour-flight hair, wanting to joke with you but feeling rather constrained in the setting.  

So much for mission sex.  

“I don’t believe you for a minute,” Nastasha slides her sunglasses up on her face, arching a brow at Tony. “If you wanted to get us hotel rooms, you could have.” 

“Maybe,” Tony says with a sly shrug. “But this is like a team-building activity. Six adults, one bathroom. If we can make it through this, we can make it through anything.” 

“So no hot dates, Sammy,” you tease, wandering over to admire the city view. “A city chock full of models, and you’re on a chastity leash.” 

“Aw, c’mon, 28,” Sam protests, as Natasha sniggers and even Bucky cracks a smile. That open bar Tony has stocked is looking mighty fine. “Where’s your imagination?” 

You turn, back to the windows as you send Sam a sly smile - your eyes flicker to Bucky. There’s a funny feeling in the region of his stomach, and he smiles back. 

“I wonder,” you say woefully.  

“This place is tiny,” Natasha reports, measuring her strides from one wall to the next. “Are you even allowed to have six people here?” 

“You don’t call the fire marshal on my penthouse, and I won’t call the police on those knives you snuck through security,” Tony deadpans, taking a sip of his drink.  

Natasha rolls her eyes. 

“Anyways, we’ll have a briefing tomorrow morning from my friend,” Tony adds, striding around the bar and into the living space. You’re still standing there, arms crossed, and Bucky fancies that you’ve been admiring his behind. Makes him wanna wiggle it, just to hear you laugh. Can’t do that here. “Then we start our patrols in the evening. White tie, remember.” 

Bucky remembers. He’d packed the tuxedo Stark had made him buy two years ago when he’d first joined the Avengers.  

“This place is whack,” Sam complains. “What’s the use in keeping an eye on bad guys if I’m being suffocated by a bow tie?” 

For once, Bucky agrees with Sam. 

“I don’t remember you telling us white tie,” you interrupt, attention now on Tony as a little frown forms between your brows. Still cute. “I brought my normal gear.” 

If we’d packed together like we normally do, I could’ve reminded you, Bucky thinks, but doesn’t say.  

“Milan Fashion Week has strict dress codes,” Stark explains. “All security is in Armani, minimum.” 

“Does Pepper keep a suit here I could borrow?” you ask.  

“No, because when I bring Pepper to Milan, she’s not on duty.” 

Bucky sees Steve’s face pinch and his ears turn bright red all the way across the room - and the temptation to laugh is quickly smothered into a cough.  

“Come on, 28, we can go shopping,” Natasha suggests. “Scope out the town. Rustle up some food. Leave these bozos in this shoebox to smell each other’s breath.” 

“Excellent idea.” Your smile is beaming. Bucky feels like scowling - losing you already? Not fair. And he’s stuck with Steve and Sam and Tony - even worse. He doesn’t support this idea, not one bit.  

He supports it about fifty minutes later, when his phone dings and he gets a text from you: a picture taken in a fitting room, involving a red dress that shows off your legs and thigh holster - a little coy smile on your face, as if daring him in some way or another.  

Bucky coughs, nearly launching himself off the couch where he’s been lounging since you left. His face feels like it’s burning. Quickly he shuts off the screen, and tucks it back in his pocket.  

“So, long story short, he fixed up my jacket and I gave him a bottle of whisky, and we’ve been friends ever since,” Tony explains of his friend Auernon. “Gave him a ref to get into fashion school, and so here we are. It stands to reason he would call upon an old friend when those bomb threats started rolling in…” 

Bucky’s phone dings again. He’s gonna have to silence it. But curiosity overwhelming his caution, Bucky pulls it out of his pocket ever so slightly, staring at the picture that pops up. A teal dress this time, one that flows to the floor but shows off your shoulders. That smirk in the mirror - to die for. You know what you’re doing. He gulps thickly.  

“Sorry,” he mutters, aware of Steve’s eyes on him. Quickly he shuts off the sound, adjusting the way he’s sitting ever so slightly as he pretends to be interested in Tony’s story.  

The phone vibrates another half-dozen times. A velvet burgundy suit, with a slit in the white blouse down to your navel. A gold ball-gown, regretfully captioned with ‘can’t take down bad guys in this.’ An emerald green number that Bucky supposes is meant to look old-fashioned, with a bright-pink petticoat showing beneath the hemline. It makes his mouth water, thinking of getting his head beneath that skirt… 

Anyway, Bucky didn’t listen to a word of the conversation. 

Six hours later and the skyline is getting dark, Stark has ordered a dozen pizzas (ten and a half of which are gone), and you and Natasha finally return. There’s a bustling of bags and packages, and giggles, and when you stride into the kitchen to dump a tower of boxes on the counter, a complaint: 

“You guys only saved us anchovies?” you protest. “Rude.” 

“Double rude,” Natasha agrees. “Would be a shame if those fishes slithered into certain pillows, tonight.” 

It’s been long enough since your last photo that Bucky is comfortable enough to stand - which he does, carrying his plate into the kitchen as he eyes you up and down. There had been no indication which dress you had bought - and by the sparkle in your eye as you meet his for the tiniest moment, Bucky can’t help but feel a sliver of anticipation.  

“Sheesh, you buy enough to outfit the entire team?” Sam asks, refilling his drink as he pokes around some boxes. 

“Nope. White tie at a fashion show is no joke,” you inform him.  

“That’s true,” Natasha says. “Just don’t tell the Depression Grandpas how much you spent. We’ll be up all night arguing economics and moralities.” 

“Since we’ll all be up all night listening to Steve snore, anyway,” you joke.  

Bucky leans over, trying to peer into a bag - but you reach over and snap it shut.  

“Nice try, Barnes,” you way warningly. “But that’s private.” 

He likes the sound of that.  

“Did you call me a ‘depression grandpa’?” Steve asks with a frown, moving towards the kitchen as well. “What’s that supposed to mean, Nat?” 

“Only that you’re stingy.” 

“Cheap,” you add. 

“Obsessively frugal.” 

“Miserly.” 

“Tacaño,” Sam offers, and the room silences. At the confused glances his way, he shrugs. “Four years of high school Spanish, baby.” 

“28 spent nine hundred euros on her dress alone,” Natasha informs the group at large.  

“Nat! I told you not to tell!” you protest, but you’re laughing at the general shocked outcry. Now Bucky has to see the dress - it had better be worth it.  

“Was that really necessary?” Steve asks, brows furrowed. Bucky answers in his head: yes, and he hasn’t even seen the dress yet.  

“Wow, even I’m shocked,” Sam says.  

“When in Milan,” Tony calls over from the living area. “Nice work, 28. I look forward to seeing it.” 

“At least someone’s supportive,” you say tartly, sending Steve and Sam (and Natasha) all severe glares. Then your eyes land on Bucky - he quirks a brow, ready. “And doesn’t Grandpa Two have any reprimands for me?” you ask sweetly. Bucky interprets this as, “Did you like the pictures I sent?” 

“Several,” he says, when in fact meaning, “Thanks for the public boner, babe.” 

Your smile stretches across your face as Sam starts to snicker.  

“You could’ve fed three families with that cash for a year in my time,” Bucky begins. His intended response: “I just wanna eat you up right now.” 

“Times have changed,” you point out, and he sees the glint in your eyes: “I wouldn’t complain in the slightest.” 

“Still could’ve done something better with that money. Donated it. Saved it.” Bucky is grinning, hoping you hear the hint: “When are you gonna let me take it off of you?” 

“I suppose,” you allow. “But I needed a dress, and now I have something to wear to all future work functions.” Oh, he loves this playing. He knows exactly what you mean. 

“Anytime.” 

Bucky is so ready. To show you how much he enjoyed those pictures, to wrap his fingers around Tony’s throat for booking lodging with no freaking doors. 

“Can we see it, at least?” Sam asks.  

You grin, and pick up the boxes to take up the stairs. “You’re gonna have to wait for the mission, Wilson.” 

Oof. Bucky doesn’t like that. Without any privacy, he’s going to have to wait, too.

He hates this mission. 

The next evening’s security set-up at the catwalk doesn’t lessen Bucky’s disgust. Sam was right about the bowties - Bucky is sliding his index finger beneath his collar every ten seconds just to try to get some air. Not that the air is any good, anyway; it stinks like too many people and too much perfume. There’s sweat on the back of his neck, and the com device in his ear isn’t staying put. He can still hear Stark’s voice, though. Hard to ignore, unfortunately.   

“Can we please try not to kill anyone today?” Tony sounds peeved. “I know you’re scowling, Barnes. This is my friend’s first show and no one wants a bomb.”

“Well, you’re no fun,” Natasha says sardonically. “You mean I don’t get to use my knife for anything more exciting than cutting grapes?” 

“I want a bomb,” says your voice, stationed somewhere else. Bucky suppresses a sigh. “I haven’t seen a single suspicious person. This is boring.” 

“Keep your eyes up, 28,” Tony barks. “No jokes.”

“Wow, this must be serious,” Natasha says dryly. “Stark can’t take a joke. Oh wait - he never can.” 

There are grumbles from Sam in agreement. A trace smile flicks at Bucky’s lips - but he continues to stand stoically, eyes on the opposite wall as frivolously dressed models and uptight makeup and hair artists follow them around. There’s at least four people crying; someone is shouting, and he’s pretty sure that girl that just walked past in towering heels has a sprained ankle. Too late to back out of the show, though.  

“Aerials are clear,” Sam reports.  

“Parking and valet are clear,” Steve next.  

“Sitting in the audience is the most boring job,” Natasha states. 

“Once I finish with Auernon, I’ll swap you,” Stark says.  

“Basement is clear,” you say.  

“Backstage is terrible,” Bucky mutters, hopefully not loud enough that anyone near him can hear.  

“I’ll trade with you, Tin-man,” Sam jokes. “I’ll take models over electricians.” 

“Let Bucky stay,” you insist. “He needs a date more than you do, Sammy.” 

Wow. Just, wow. Bucky’s face is burning, but he’s struggling to suppress a smile, too. “I can get a date on my own, thanks,” he growls, and there are snickers audible from Sam and Nat. And you.  

“Which means he won’t,” Steve clarifies.  

“Ten minutes to showtime,” Stark snaps. “Stop bantering and do your jobs.” There’s a fizzle, and a click. Stark has left the conversation.  

“Wow, tetchy much?” Natasha snarks. 

There’s static in Bucky’s ear - he winces, and then your voice, whispered, comes through: “I got us a different frequency, Buck. We’re muted to the team.” 

“Wow,” he murmurs back, impressed. “You must be bored if you’re fiddling with electronics.” 

“And you’re having such a great time, huh?”  

“No. I miss you,” Bucky says, and his voice is petulant - he doesn’t care. The night before had been awful; not just Steve’s snoring and Sam’s sighing and tossing and turning and Stark’s annoying watch lighting up practically the entire loft - but Bucky had been able to watch your bunk all night, but powerless to do anything. Not even to say anything. Yes, he’s grumpy - and he’s not even sorry.  

“Oh, baby,” you sigh. “Don’t worry about that. The show’s about to start.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?”  

“You’ll see.” 

Bucky likes the sound of that - and he’s smiling like a dope as models run off last minute towards the blaring music and flashing lights of the state. There’s still crying from inside the make-up room. It’s making his head hurt.  

A voice can be heard from the main stage area now, jabbering in Italian over the speakers. Bucky doesn’t care to listen, so he doesn’t. Absently he turns to walk down the hall, peer down a corridor, take note of no bombs, and return to his place.  

Boring. Completely boring. 

No, not boring at all - exciting! Enticing! Captivating! Bucky’s jaw drops as he catches sight of you moving down the hall towards him, shaking back your coiffed hair as your lips curl into a smile. Forget the show. Forget the mission. This. This.  

You had not sent him a picture of this particular dress - Bucky would’ve remembered it. Dark blue and glittering like stars with glitter all over - or whatever fashion people use to make dresses glitter - swooshing on the ground and showing off at every other step...a slit on the side, showing off your leg, and which goes… 

...all the way up to your hip.  

Bucky is drooling by the time you pause in front of him, his clasped hands covering his crotch and your eyes sparkling brighter than the glitter. Hands on your hips, and he drags his eyes away from the skin of your thigh. You must be wearing the holster on your other leg...he wants to find that out first hand.  

“Worth a thousand dollars?” you purr.  

“A million,” Bucky says, his voice thick and rough. “I want my head under there so bad - ” 

“Bucky!” you interrupt with a laugh. “Save it for when we’re alone.” 

“And when will that be?” he growls back. “Stark’s dumb penthouse - ” 

But you don’t give him a chance to finish that rant - winding your fingers through his, you arch a brow in challenge and start to lead him down the hall away from the show.  

Yep. Forget the mission.  

“I’ve had a chance to scope things out,” you say over your shoulder with a grin. “Security here is pretty pathetic.” 

“Not surprised,” Bucky says, but he doesn’t want to talk about security. He’s watching how you swerve and sway and sparkle and he wants his hands all over you about five minutes ago -  

A metal door. You punch in a key code - and it swings open.  

“Supply closet,” you whisper, dragging him inside and it clangs shut. “All the seamstresses have been sent off to the next designer. We’re safe here, for about twenty minutes. ‘Til the end of the show.” 

Bucky is tracing around the curve of your waist and hips - not as smooth as your skin, but that dress. “Enough time,” he mutters, dipping his head to nip at the soft flesh of your neck and throat.  

“Bucky…” It’s a sigh, and makes heat rush through his middle. His favorite noise in the world. “Don’t mess up my dress. I spent big money on this.” 

“My reckless girl.” He trails hot kisses up your jaw, loving the way your softness melts into his arms. “Spending so much money on something that can get ripped up.” 

“Buck, don’t you dare!” 

“I was speaking generally.” 

Your eyes are sparkling as he pulls away, grinning at your beaming smile. His metal hand slides between that slit in your skirt, and he nearly groans at how hot and smooth your thigh feels.  

“Babe,” he says huskily, lips ghosting over yours as he tastes your breath. The tips of his fingers find lace blocking his way, and he nearly growls again.  

“Bucky,” you coo back, your own hands tracing a pattern along the lapels of his jacket before moving lower. And lower. And finding his very apparent reaction to your appearance. Sucking in a breath, Bucky finds that his blood is rushing almost unbearably hot, his vision tunneling. Without thinking he gives the lace a tug, and it snaps apart in his fingers as you blink in surprise.  

“Bucky!” you say, scolding now even as you laugh. “I didn’t bring a spare pair.” 

“Don’t care.” He tosses the ruined underwear over his shoulder, and steps forward until your back is against the concrete walls, eyes daring, and his thigh between your legs.  

“So much for going fast,” you tease. “You could be here all night, huh?” 

“Yup. You too?” 

“Uh huh.” You slide down the zipper of his trousers, eyes never leaving his as he twitches painfully.  

“Without messing up our clothes?” Bucky grumbles.  

“We’ll manage,” you promise, your breath hot on his lips. That’s enough for him - he dives back in for a kiss, tongue tracing yours as he pushes back the rest of your skirt, tracing up your thigh holster as his throat closes over entirely.  

“Babe,” he grunts, and as his trousers are pushed down to his knees, he hoists you up around the hips so that your feet are dangling, and your lip is caught between your teeth as your legs wrap around his waist.  

“You really do like my dress, don’t you?” you purr, eyes all dark in the dim light. “Show me, Bucky. Show me how much you want me; how much it kills you we can’t be alone in the penthouse.” 

A challenge. He likes that.  

A little more roughly now, your back is pressed against the wall as Bucky guides himself into your already wet, heated core. His legs nearly gives out - but with a grunt he thrusts inside, and your eyes flutter shut with a whisper of a moan. Then the worst possible sound reaches his ears, and your eyes pop back open.  

R - i - i - i - p. 

Horrified, Bucky looks down - the slit hovering to your waist now where your skirt is riding up, is about an inch longer than it was earlier. He can see three or four popped seams, and he swallows.  

“Bucky.” 

“Shh.” He buries his face into your sweet-smelling neck, rocking into you as your thighs tighten around his hips. “I’ll buy you a new one, babe.” 

A husky laugh from your throat, turned to a lengthy moan as Bucky speeds up. Can’t really help it, at this point.  

“You sure you wanna spend money on that?” you gasp, fingers tight on his collar.  

He manages somehow to choke out, “I only spend money on necessities. And you, in this dress, is more important than oxygen right now.”  

Bucky is sounding like a clumsy idiot, he knows - but your giggle in his ear is worth it. Then there’s no more energy for teasing; he’s about ready to explode, and your breasts are heaving as you breathe, sharpening and growing louder and -  

This time, his legs really do give out - with a grunt and a curse, Bucky’s arm tightens around your waist as he falls to his knees, dragging you down the wall as you laugh. Figures. But he’s spent and a little drained, and doesn’t move for a minute. No, he’s happy to taste the salty arousal on your throat, careful to leave no marks, as you pulse around his extra-sensitive bits, your fingers caressing the back of his neck, his ears, his jaw… 

“Bucky…” a sigh, and your lips are on his cheeks. He grunts in response - he can hear the distant clamor of the show, but he doesn’t care one bit. Even if someone were to walk in right at that moment, he wouldn’t be the least bit bothered - unless it was Sam, of course. Bucky would not be ashamed for anyone else to know how lucky he is to have the best girl in the world, who wants him. Anyway, they’d probably be jealous, anyway.  

“My dress,” you say mournfully after a few more moments, and regretfully Bucky pulls away from sniffing your hair, and examines the damage.  

It’s really not bad. The slit is just higher than it’s meant to be, and without your underwear, a little too revealing. Well, a lot, in Bucky’s opinion. No one else needs to see you but him. He frowns as bit as he smooths over the torn seams before holding out a hand to help you to your feet.  

“Wait,” he says, a sudden idea striking. Hurriedly he tugs back up his trousers, striding over to one of the many shelves. It takes only a half-second to find what he needs, and belt hanging loose, he kneels down in front of you and yanks a needle and some dark blue thread from the little case.  

“Didn’t know you could sew,” you tease, and he pokes the thread through the needle.  

“Used to repair my own clothes all the time,” Bucky replies easily. “Ma made me start doing it when I was eight. Got sick of reattaching buttons and fixing skidded knees. Then in the army, didn’t have much choice if I didn’t want a brisk Russian breeze ‘round my privates.” 

“Well, it’s kind of you to make amends for ruining my dress.” 

Bucky snorts, tugging the seams back together as you stand absolutely still. It’s an easy repair - only takes about two minutes until you’re appropriately covered again, and he smirks in satisfaction. And then slides the skirt aside again, to kiss your soft thigh several times in further amends.  

“Hey,” you half-protest, laughing softly as he moves closer to your center - he doesn’t even care that you’re still hazy and loopy. He could drink you up all day.  

“You wear this dress, you’d better be ready for me,” Bucky says matter-of-factly. “This is serious.” 

“So serious.” 

You’re salty on his tongue, and your voice sweet in his ears and Bucky is sure his trousers are gonna get a little dirty on the knees but he doesn’t care, and -  

He pulls away, licking his lips as he tilts his head to listen. Already you’ve stiffened, a hand on his shoulder for support as the tromping sound of several heavy bootsteps are heard outside the door.  

“Doesn’t sound like models,” you whisper. Bucky is already doing back up his belt as he stands.  

“Finish later?” he asks lightly, as blaring alarms start to sound, along with shouts and screams. Your lips curl into a feral smile, and you whip back your skirt to tug out your little pistol.  

“I’ll hold you to that, Barnes. Bad guys first.” 

Bucky smirks, and yanks open the door.  

~

It’s a sunny morning at Avengers Tower two weeks later; you’ve been enjoying a lazy breakfast with Natasha (Bucky is in the gym, unfortunately), when one of the peons from downstairs comes up the elevator with a massive white box, wrapped in pearl-sheened ribbon and a tidy, though enormous bow. “That must be for me,” Natasha says, hopping down from her stool at the kitchen bar. 

“Agent 28,” the peon says, reddening slightly.  

Oh! A surprise. You stand to take the box from the peon, who is breathing heavily as they return to the elevator. A smile tugs at your lips as you give the box a once-over.  

“They scan for bombs and other tech downstairs,” Nat informs you.  

“A perk of living here, really,” you joke, tracing your fingers over the ribbon. “That and all the pizza Stark buys.” 

Natasha peers over your shoulder. “Well, what is it? Let’s see.”

“I really don’t know,” you admit. “Wasn’t expecting anything.” 

With a swoosh and a swipe, the knife at your waist has cut through the ribbon. Absently you push it away, sliding the knife back into its holster. The lid slides up easily, and a crinkle of tissue paper makes your heart skip a beat as Natasha gasps.  

Folded neatly beneath the layers of tissue - burgundy layers of chiffon and silk with a high-end brand stitched into the nape of the neck. Very impressive. As your heart begins to hammer in your chest, you bite your lip and tug out a thin white card tucked inside the blouse. Typed in 12-point Arial font, probably on any old computer, reads: 

Amends. 

You laugh. 

[princesskitten45]

Kitten’s Punishment

@littlesecrets

(Rose)

(listen to Crave You by Flight Facilities-- adventure club dubstep remix)

“Mommy! I’m home!” I hear my kitten yell.

    “Hey kitten, how was your day?” I asked.

“It was great! Rose and I went mudding!” she exclaimed.

    That’s when she steps into view and I see the mud that cakes her body. “Bella! What has Mommy said about mudding?” I say raising my voice.

“Mommy says: ‘When finished mudding, rinse your body off with the hose and then immediately take a bath.’” She repeats while hanging her head.

    “That’s right, now, head upstairs and take your bath. And maybe, I won’t punish you.” I warn. She scurries upstairs and as I watch her sexy ass, I yell, “And no touching what’s mine!”

    Five minutes go by and I start thinking, ‘Maybe I was too harsh.’ Getting up, I walk quietly to the bathroom and I can faintly hear the sounds of moans. I proceed and carefully open the door to the bathroom and see my kitten playing with herself. One hand is kneading her breast while she fucks herself with two ‘unoccupied’ fingers from her other hand. Occasionally she moves one of her hands to give her clit some attention.

    “So it seems as though we have a naughty kitten.” I say startling her.

“Mommy-”

    “No, don’t Mommy me. I want you to drain the water, dry off, and head into our room and perform Nadu.”

“Yes Mommy.” She says fidgeting with the drain stopper.

    “I’m so disappointed.” I say softly while closing the door.

* Time Break* (listen to Wifin You by Motanna of 300)

    I enter the room with my whiskey in hand. I look over to see the bitch in position. Setting the drink on top of the dresser I open the second drawer. I pull out a paddle with the word SLUT on it, a vibrator, a flogger, a gag, nipple clamps, a crop, a spreader bar, a blindfold, and handcuffs.

    “Wall” I command, laying my instruments along the edge of the bed. As she changes her position I ask, “Do you know why you’re being punished slave?”

“Yes Mistress.”

    “And what is the cause for this punishment?” I ask again.

“I disobeyed Mistresses rules.”

    “Dammit whore! I hate going in circles, you know that, get to the fucking point.”

“I came home dirty and when I went to wash up I had playtime by myself and without permission.”

    “That is correct. And since that it is two offenses the only safeword that you are allowed to use is ‘Red’. Do you understand, kitten?”

“Yes Mistress.” She replies.

    “On the bed, in Table.”

“Yes Mistress.” She says while following instruction.

    I grab the gag and put it in her mouth and clip it behind her head. Then, grabbing the nipple clamps , I carefully put them on. Next I grab the vibrator and turn it on to the slowest setting, I then roughly thrust it into her pussy earning a raspy moan the erupts from deep in her throat.

    “You like that, don’t you? You little slut.” I said slapping her ass and grabbing the blindfold and paddle. Putting the blindfold over her eyes I whisper into her ear, “Don’t forget to relax, little one.”

(Listen to Over,over and again From 50 shades darker)

    Backing off the bed, I line the paddle up with her ass. I bring the paddle back and as I swing it forward, I hear the crack of the contact and euphoria takes over my body. Using the paddle, I spank her ass fourteen more times.

    Hearing her soft pants, I look down at the entrance of her pussy and see it glistening with her juices. I move my fingers down to her folds and after I collect a sample of her juices, I taste it.

    “My, my… What a taste, my whore.” I say condescendingly and I hear her gasp immediately after my statement. With her ass still in the air, I put the paddle down and brought my hand back only to bring it forth to make contact with her ass, spanking her with my bare hand.

“Floor.” I command. While she once again she follows my instructions I pick up the spreader bar and start to cuff her ankles and she starts to squeal. “Do you need release?” I ask and she nods her head frantically. “Well that’s not going to happen. Bad girls aren't allowed to happen.” I say as I finish cuffing her ankles.

I pick up the crop and start gliding it across her ass and pussy. I quickly swat her pussy earning a sharp intake of breath from her. I continue to swat her with the crop, alternating between her ass and pussy, for twenty more times. I set the crop down and look at my beautiful princess. Bending down I plant butterfly kisses across her red ass and create a trail of kisses to her pussy. While getting closer and closer to her pussy I start to lap at her pussy. I think about eating her out but feel she’s had enough torture. I take out her vibrator, uncuff her ankles, take her blindfold off, and unclip her gag and nipple clamps, and then I  finally passionately kissing her on the lips.

I sit on the edge of the bed and pat my knees, “come here sweetheart” I say as she carefully and slowly makes her way to my lap. “You did a great job receiving your punishment today kitten. Guess what you get.”

“What do I get Mommy?” she asks

“A present. Any present you want. Do you have anything you want?”

She looks around the room as if searching for her present. “Hehe” she giggles when she looks back at me.

(listen to Skin by Rihanna)

    “Yes babygirl, did you figure out what you want?”

“Yes Mommy I did.” she replies.

    “And what might that be, sweetheart?”

“Hehe. You.” she giggles.

    “Is that so? And what is it that you plan to do with me?” I ask.

“Nothing” she says.

    “Nothing?” I question curiously.

“Nope.”

    “Then what is it that you want?” I ask.

“For you to play with me.” she blushes.

    “Are you sure sweetheart? You may not be ready, and once we start I’m not going to stop.”

“I’m sure. I can do it.” she says confidently.

    “Okay.” I say leaning into kiss her.

“Mommy, wait.” she says and gets up off the bed and runs into her wardrobe.

    “Baby, What’s the matter?”

“I want to play dress up as well.” I said.

    “Okay baby, just hurry up.” I call out to her. After a few seconds I start to get anxious ‘It’s too quiet’ I think to myself. “Bells are you okay?” I ask and that’s when I hear it. The music:

The mood is set / So you already know what's next

Tv on blast turn it down turn it down / Don’t want it to clash when my body’s screaming out

I know you’re hearin’ me / You got me moanin’ now

I got a secret that i wanna show you / I got a secret so imma drop it to the floor

No teasin’ you waited long enough / Go deep imma throw it at you

Can you catch it / Don't hold back / You know i like it rough

I laugh “Come on Bells, the catwalk is screaming your name!”

Hearing the sound of heels I introduce her to the audience. “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I please have your attention For the one and only Isabelle! My little kitten!”

“Shhhh… Mommy they’re not supposed to know that part.” She playfully scolds me.

    “Well then, hurry up if you don’t want me to tell them anything else.”

“Okay, Okay; I’m coming.” she says walking out of the wardrobe.

(listen to Gorgeous By X Ambassadors)

“Jesus Fucking Christ!” I say exasperatedly when I finally see her. My kitten is wearing a black lace bralette with a matching lace thong, a black corset that has a large pink bow, a garter belt with pink bows as the clips, black stockings, and 5 inch stilettos. She didn’t even stop there. She even put on her pink pleated collar with the silver bell and pink bow as well as her matching pink kitten ears.

    “I see someone went all out.” I playfully tease.

“Only for you Mommy.” she says with bright red cheeks.

    “Come here, Mommy wants to have playtime” I say as she falls to her hands and knees and crawls towards me. “Do you want the Hitachi?” I ask and she nods her head rapidly. “Alright.” I say standing up, picking her up and placing her on the bed. “Wait.”

“Yes Mommy” she replies.

    I turn and walk towards the dresser and open the third dresser to claim the wand.

“Yay!” she exclaims as I turn around and find her at my feet.

(Listen to My Girl By Dylan Scott.)

    I shake my head, “Didn’t I put you on the bed, babygirl?” I ask.

“Ya, but I didn’t want the bed I want you.” she says in her little voice.

    “Okay but can we finish this later tonight, lovebug? I feel that you should wait a little bit.” I say.

She smiles up at me and I feel like I’ve just won the lottery. “Otay mommy, what can we to?” she asks.

    Oh God, thank you for her, she’s my world.  I think. “Anything you want, besides sex.” I say.

“Can I color an’ cuttle? Oh, an’ I want ice cweam!” she says getting further and further into little space.

    “Okay love bug, lets go find you crayons and coloring books.” i say taking her hand in mine and leading her to the living room.

Before we can exit the room though she sits on the floor and starts pouting.

    “What’s wrong, Princess?” I ask.

“ No ice cweam! I want ice cweam!” She whines.

    “Okay babygirl, I didn’t say no.” I chuckle. “Now come one.”

“Uh-uh” she says still pouting.

    “Do I need to  carry you?” I ask and her face lights up. “Okay come on then.” i say and lift her into my arms. “Oh! One more thing” I say and she looks confused. “As much as I love your outfit it isn’t a proper coloring and ice cream eating outfit. I’m gonna change you into some more appropriate.”

“Apwopweeate?” she questions.

    “Something that’s okay for coloring.” I explain.

“Otay Mummy!” she says making me smile again. I carry her over to the bed and set her down to take her costume off. Once her costume is off I put her in her Rapunzel training pullups and one of my white t-shirts as I do so I tickle her belly and a string of giggles erupts from her.

“No! Mummy! ‘Top ‘’top. It Tickles!” She screams while giggling and rolling around on the bed as my hands chase her.

    “Okay, Okay Mummy will stop.” I say. “But come here. I need to take care of your bottom before i forget.”

“Otay” she says immediately positioning herself into Table.

    “Good girl.” I say pulling down her pull up and squeezing a good amount of ointment to rub in.

As i’m rubbing it in she starts to wiggle her bottom “Mummy it’s cold.” she whines.

    “It’s okay little one I’m almost done.” I say to reassure her. Once I’m done, I pull her pullups back up and pick her up to carry her bridal style into the kitchen.

“ICE CWEAM!!!!” she screams.

    “Yes yes I know love bug. What kind do you want?” I ask

“Tocwit.” She says.

    “What was that love?”

“Toc- wit!” she emphasizes.

    “What?” I say having a hard time hearing her.

“Heee” she hisses and tries to get down.

    “Two things baby girl, First no hissing at Mommy. And secondly, stay on the counter you’ll end up hurting yourself.” i say turning to open the freezer door. “Now where is the kind that you want?”

She holds up two fingers and then points down.

    “Are trying to tell me it’s the second one down.” I ask.

She nods rapidly. “YES!!!” she screams in excitement.

    I look at the second one down and see what the kind that she wants is. ‘Chocolate’ “Oh chocolate I see now okay.” i say and take it out alone with a sippy cup and straw.

“Hmmm?” she questions.

    ���I want it to be easy for you to eat Lovebug.” I say.

“Otay.” she says and does her grabby hands thing.

    I chuckle, “Not yet love, I have to melt it.”

Bella starts to pout and sob.

    “Hold on. It will be done shortly.” I say trying to reassure her.

“No, Now.” she says through sobs.

    “Will my thumb be okay for now?” I ask.

She nods her head so fast. And so i set the spoon, ice cream, sippy cup, and straw down next to her and allow her to suck on my thumb. I put the ice cream up against me and carefully undo the top as well as scoop a good amount of chocolate out into her sippy cup. “Oww!” I yelp.

“What Mummy?” She asks.

    “Baby I know you didn’t mean it, but I need you to be careful with your teeth, they hurt.” I say.

“Oh, Otay. Sowwy Mummy.” she apologizes.

    “It’s fine. But I do need my thumb so that I can get to the microwave and melt your ice cream. Can you let me do that Princess?” i ask and she shakes her head. “And why might that be?”

She takes my thumb out of her mouth but keeps a firm grip on it. “Because you didn’t say the magic words.”

    I chuckle. “Ah. Good girl knowing your manners. Excuse me, Princess Bella. May I please have my hand so that I can be a good Mommy and melt you chocolate ice cream in the microwave?” I ask.

“Why of ‘orse Mummy.” she giggles and lets go of my hand. Placing a kiss on her forehead I thank her and place her ice cream in the microwave for twenty seconds. When it’s done I test it, making sure all the large chunks are gone. “Okay here you go my Princess.” I say hand her the lidded sippy cup.

She stares at it. Is something wrong Lovebug?” i ask

Nodding she says “Stwaw.”

    I laugh “oh yeah sorry Love.” and I put the straw in the cup and she starts to drink. I put the ice cream back into the freezer and then pick her up and carry her into the living room.

“Color color!” she cries.

    “Yes baby girl I know.” i say reassuringly and grab her coloring book of cats and crayons. Setting her down I hand it to her and she tries to run away. “Uh, uh. What do you say?”

“Tank You MUmmy.” she grins and runs up to hug me.

    I hug back and say “of course babygirl.”

*Time Break* (Listen to What Ifs by Kane Brown)

    My babygirl is still coloring and I can’t help but smile. How did I end up with this girl? I mean I am so broken, So damaged; and yet, here she is all perfect and intelligent, so kind (even with all of her sass) and smart. I don’t want to hurt her, but what if I already did and she’s just hiding it from me. Now, I don’t want to ask her if that’s true because I don’t want to seem insecure but at the same time our relationship is all about trust. What am I to do.  

    But at the same time what if we were meant to be together? What if this is it? What if she’s the one? I have no problem with that, but what if I am and she doesn’t tell me no, that she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I already fucked it up? What if I am actually abusive. What if I am abusive and so much more and my princess isn’t telling me anything? I have to ask, I can’t take it anymore without asking her.

(Listen to Dive by Ed Sheeran)

“Bella can you come here for a second I need to talk to you”  I say.

“What’s wrong Mommy?” she asks

    “Bella am I mean, intense, abusive?” I ask.

“Of course not Mommy you’re perfect.”

    “Bella, I don’t want you thinking that you don’t have a say in our relationship, you do. I need to know if you're okay with what we have. As well as you feel you’re safe.” I say trying not to cry.

“Mommy, Look at me.” she says and I do. “I love. I have always loved you since a few weeks after our first encounter. And I will continue to love you until you stop loving me back. Now stop fussing over this.”

    I look over at my Princess and smile. “What would I do without you.” I say and lean in and kiss her with passion.

(Listen to Say It By Flume ft. Tove Lo)

    “Come on kitten. I think we could both go for a dose of love and affection.” I say and carry back up the stairs, into our room, and onto our bed.

    I pull the pull up and her t-shirt off her body and throw them on the floor. I do the same with my clothes. I position myself between her legs and blow cold air on her clit and she immediately starts squirming. “Do I have to use the handcuffs?” I ask.

“Yes Mommy.” She squeaks.

    I chuckle getting up to get them. Once I retrieve them I cuff her into a four point restraint. “Much better.” I say which makes her smile. Going back between her legs I begin to blow cold air on her clit again. At the same time I take my hand and with two fingers, run them up and down her slit. Looking up, my kitten is biting her lip. “Kitten, go ahead if you need to moan.” and sure enough she does. “FUCK!” i curse and sit on her face so we can 69. “Make Mommy cum on your face kitten.” I tell her and she immediately accepts the invitation. I follow suit and start to eat her out. I lap at her clit as well as tongue fuck her pussy. It’s not long before I’m riding her face at the same time she’s bucking her hips into mine. Lifting my head up for a second I tell her, “release” and give my attention back to her pussy. It’s a matter of minutes before she’s cumming and of course I’m lapping it all up. The whole time she’s cumming, she’s screaming and the vibrations make me cum as well and soon she’s lapping up my cum as well.

Pulling her head back and struggling to get air due to her recent orgasm, she says, “My turn Mommy. I want to make you cum again but by myself.”

    “Of course” I say and un cuff her body. Positioning myself at the headboard I spread my legs and say, “I’m all yours.”  And she immediately takes charge burying her head into my pussy. “JESUS!” I yell at sudden contact from her. And she continues to eat me out. She starts out by tonguing my clit and nibbling a little as well. As soon as she starts to fuck me with her tongue my dominant side comes loose and I grab her hair and push her face closer to my pussy. Making her moan she takes her hand and starts thumbing my clit. “Oh shit! Shit Bella That’s it.” i say screaming and in no more than two minutes I’m cumming. Lifting her head up I see that my cum occupies her mouth. Smiling she likes my cum from her lips and says “Finished.”

    “Would you like to have another round?” I ask.

“Can I really? I want the Hitachi.” she exclaims.

    I nod in response and grab it off the night stand. “Now do you want to do it together or by yourself?” i ask.

“Together.”

    “Okay. But kitten it won’t take the both of us that long to climax seeing as how we both just came not that long ago.” I warn.

“Okay Mommy.” she replied putting one of her legs on top of mine and the other leg underneath my other leg so that we are in the scissor position. “I’m ready.”

    I turn the wand on and place it against both of our clits. “Fuck mommy! It’s so good!”She screams buck her hips in succession. “Oh I know baby.” I say bucking my hips as well. “Fuck babygirl I'm already so close.” i tell her. “Me too Mommy.” she agrees.

    I remove the wand from between us and start scissoring her instead. My pussy rubbing up against hers and the sounds of our moans. “Shit baby I’m there. Are you?” I ask. “Yes Mommy.” She gasps. “Go ahead.” I say allowing her to cum. And we do just that cumming at the same time.

Epilogue - The Next Morning.

The epilogue is Sleeping Beauty by Dylan Scott.  And princess wakes up to a note that tells her that Mommy and  Pancakes are waiting for her in the kitchen.

[gattius-starfrost]

Shopping Woes

((Co-written with @kidcatgemini / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 ))

~*~*~*~

Usually, Syrielle would have been more than pleased to take a lazy evening… except she had been doing exactly that for the past week. Her condition was clearly starting to frustrate her, and it was getting obvious that she was doing her best not to panic. Her eyes watered, but she blinked away the tears, taking a deep breath.

She allowed him to lead her out of the Bazaar and to where their mounts waited for them. Gattius helped her up onto her hawkstrider.

“Hey, Gatto?” her gaze averted, “Back when I was in Dalaran… some of the students... They’d show some real promise for a while, but then…” she sighed, eyes watering again, “Then they’d just lose their affinity, yeah? Out of nowhere… what if that’s what’s happening to me?”

This time, there was no blinking away the tears. Her grip tightened on the hawkstrider reins.

“What if... I’m losing my potential? What am I going to do without my magic? I want to become an Archmage someday, Gatto… And the Guard is depending on me… you heard Ina, yeah? I’m your most active spellweaver.“

‘Tch. She’s figured it out.’ Alteris’ voice rang in once again.

“That might not be the case…” Gattius responded back in his mind as he stepped over to his horse.

‘Well, y’can’t tell her that now! It’ll only make it worse later.’

“But we don’t have any evidence to support it. It’s all speculation.”

‘Tell her, lad.’

“But earlier you said--”

‘She knows now, lad! Not gonna lie to her, are yeh?’

Gattius sighed, heavily, as he pulled himself up onto his horse. He looked at Syrielle, directing his horse up beside her hawkstrider to take her hand in his. He shook his head.

“Well, that is something I considered could be the case.” he admitted. “But there’re still other things it could be. We still don’t know for sure.”

He gave her hand a light squeeze, before letting go.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, just yet. Let’s go home. We’ll spend our day together, and look further into this later. Okay?”

His horse whinnied, eager to ride. Gattius grunted, quelling the impatient beast, before looking back to Syrielle.

“I don’t think that’s the case, though.” he nodded. “We’ll rule it out first, just to be sure.”

She quickly wiped the tears from her face with a free hand, letting out a shaky breath. She looked up again at him as he spoke, hanging onto his every word, some hope seemed to return to her as he mentioned it could be other things. The cryomancer gave one more sniffle, wiping what was left of her tears with the back of her hand.

“You… you’re right. I shouldn’t panic until we know for sure what this is,” she nodded, “Stressing about it isn’t going to help me get better.”

She was silent the entire ride back, her thoughts on a constant cycle of what ifs and speculation, followed by convincing herself not to panic. It was hard for her not to stress about the situation when her entire career hung on the balance. She remembered Gattius telling her one of his worst fears was to lose an arm, like Reth had… hers was losing her arcane affinity.

Her ears perked up a bit as the manor grounds came into view. Home, sweet home…

“I am looking forward to seeing you model those outfits for me,” she said, trying to be more cheerful for him, “Oh! Did you also buy those robes I picked out for myself?”

“Whatever you pulled off the shelves.” Gattius nodded, smiling. “We’ll make it fun. I’ll even throw in some little poses and flourishes for you.”

He gave Syrielle a wink as they closed the distance remaining to the Manor. He hopped off his steed first, before moving to help Syrielle off of hers.

“So what about the books, then? You want to read one aloud to me?” he asked, concealing his begrudgement for bringing it up in the first place - and again now. “Ought to see what all the fuss is about, huh?”

That made her chuckle, “You love me THAT much, huh?”

Her ears had returned to their regular position, and she gave his hand a squeeze as she climbed off the hawkstrider, smiling up and him as they made their way into the manor.

“Don’t worry, I won’t torture you with that quite yet,” she chuckled again, getting him off the hook, “I can think of a few things to do without making you listen to me reading -The Books-” she dropped the tone of her voice for that last part in a mock spooky voice, before giggling.

“I’m going to go brush my teeth, then get myself some more ice cream and some arcwine. Then you can show off those outfits and we’ll see where that leads, yeah?”

He grinned, and nodded. “Thanks, Bookworm. Your mercy won’t go unrewarded…”

He waggled a brow, following her inside. He was glad she was in a better mood now, at least. But those had come and gone lately. He wondered if mana deficiency brought on mood swings, as well. It made sense if they did; something affecting the body like that could wreak havoc on chemical equilibrium. Like excessive hunger, or pregn--

Gattius froze, expression blanking as he quickly tried to list off reasons why that couldn’t be the case. Birth control was all he could come up with; everything else pointed to the possibility. And sadly, the birth control wasn’t something he, personally, oversaw…

“--Aye, yeah, go on and brush your teeth, and all.” Gattius called ahead as he followed Syrielle upstairs. “I’ll lay the clothes out, and get ready for my little turn on the catwalk.”

He somehow managed a smile as he carried the bag of clothes into the bedroom. Like the lost affinity, best not to worry about it until there was some proof… right?

‘You fucked up now, lad.’ came Alteris’ mocking voice.

[certifiablyplatinum]

Can you save my heavydirtysoul?(Please say you can.)Twenty One Pilots concert story, 10/22/19

As I had missed my GA Floor seat show in June at home in Cbus due to my woeful injury,  I decided to buy tickets when the boyz announced their second leg and  stop in Cincinnati.  I mean, why not? Fangirling all over the place here. Of course, I was taking Jordan, as the summer of 2016 was the Blurryface summer and we played it out on our deck almost every night. I am secure in my vast music knowledge and boldly admit my love for Twenty One Pilots just as I do my more bizarre and obscure bands. Diversity is where it’s at, babies, ya like what ya like.

The brilliant blue October day arrived, and my preparations were made.  

First, I chose a hotel north of Cinci. I had a work retreat on the south side of Columbus the next morning, so shaving off those ends saved me time.

Secondly, I told the wayward Jordan “Meet me at XXX South High Street with your bags packed at 3:30 pm.” (referring to the event space I needed to be at the day after the show.)  Jordan: Huh? Where? Why?  Me: Just meet me there.

Third, I called the event space to ensure I could leave a car parked there overnight.

Fourth, I packed an overnight bag with 17 different outfits. I am not sure why.

 I left work and drove to the space I was to be at the next morning, and Jordy showed up VERY promptly. (Me texting her: It’s just past the bridge going over 71.  Her reply: I have GPS.)

 She tossed her bags in my car,  locked her car up, and off we went together.  She drove, as I needed to focus up with a call and verbal beatdown to  A T & T and a little light  bill paying. An hour and a half later we arrived at our Blu hotel in Blue Ash, freshened up, poured a Citron and G2, and called an Uber to US Bank Arena.

 Our driver pulled up, we tossed our cardboard coffee cups in the trash, and hopped in. He looked back at us randomly asked, “Do you like country music?”  I diplomatically and cheerfully answered, “I do if you do!” He seemed to doubt my sincerity, as he wordlessly handed me his phone. I chose a 90s alt-rock playlist and, well…. Pearl Jam’s Jeremy came on first.  I believe this set the tone for the whole evening and led to my overall uninhibited abandon. Because here’s the deal—I have this thing where I have a primal need to sing Pearl Jam loudly and also in a PREEEEETY spot-on Eddie Vedder voice. I simply can’t not do it. So when  I began to bellow along in my Eddie voice, Mohammed turned the radio up so loud that my ears were bleeding, as if to urge me along. Still, I sang on. (OOoooh my jaw left hurtin’, OOoohhh dropped wide open…)

 Anyway, we got dropped off and headed to get food and drinks at the Holy Grail Tavern.  Both Jordan and I couldn’t stop looking at our attractive server.  It got so that we were laughing out loud when she whizzed past us because we (the server and me) were always accidentally locking eyes.  I said, “Oh my God she’s going to think – who is this perv staring at me?”  And Jordan said, “Well,  *I* get to see her as she walks away and she has a great butt.” This led us to the conclusion that we couldn’t stop looking at her because we, as a species, are so used to ugly being the norm  (“Have you BEEN to the BMV, Elaine?”) that we can’t stop looking at people who are attractive.  We drink them in like a scarce hidden spring in a dusty desert.   The server asked, “One check or two?”  as soon as we finished our food and apparently I spoke loudly and with a bit of shock: “Well I am HAVING another drink!”  

 We chugged away and then around 7 we headed out the door.  I was in a bit of a conundrum because I had already walked a great deal and I didn’t know what side of the stadium we were on, and I didn’t want to walk in circles for nothing, as BabyCalf and BionicTendon were a lil sore. Just then, (of course, because this is how things happen to witchy little me), a jolly man called from one lone open-air shuttle across the street: “Need a ride?”  And how!  Not only did we get a ride, we got the VIP drop off at the secret back elevator!  Up we went,  got scanned in, and found our kickass seats—basically 6 rows up from the floor.

 Once we knew where our seats were, we went up to the stuffed and crammed hallway overflowing with yellow and camo-clad Cliquers, and made our way to a hallway bar cart.  The windows behind the bar cart looked out to the open air terrace.  We figured we would go out and get some fresh air rather than wait in our seats, and asked the bartender, “Can we have someone let us back in if we go out there?” She said “No, but you can keep walking around the corner and come back in the main entrance.”  No problem! But was it? We soon found it was, as we wandered back up to the main entrance with our brazenly open containers and were told, “No re-entry!” by a shocked looking person who may as well have added, “You dumbasses!”

 “BUT! BUT! She said we could come back in this way!” I eloquently burst forth.

The ‘who are these stupid people’ gate attendant said with some ‘tude: “Who. Is. ‘She’?”

“The bartender!” I pouted.

“You can’t have open containers either!” he parried again, noticing our drinks.

“Well what do we DO!?” I demanded, my Scarlett O’Hara inconvenience bubbling up.

He sighed and pointed. “That guy in the blazer is the manager. Go talk to him.”

 Another witchy win: the plaza was empty except for the one, lone, blazered manager, talking to a cop! What are the chances he was right there?  I strolled up, my drink still blatant AF, and explained our predicament.

“No re-entry,” he said.

“Oh my God! We were clearly here! We had to get in to even be here with a drink in our hand. She told us we could go out on the terrace and walk around to get back in!”

“Who is ‘she’? And no open containers.” he chided.

 Amazingly,  our damsel in distress act got us back in and the manager bellowed “Let ‘em through!” to all the ticket attendants, and we sailed on through, triumphant. “Comin through!” I waved my hands. Back to our seats we went!

 MIsterwives opened up, and I get it, auburn-maned singer Mandy Lee has a wild falsetto that yips and yodels and leaps around, putting me in mind of Kate Bush’s vocal style. Their wavy, colorful set and lighting was bright and cheery with rainbow tones and pops of pinks and yellows. The highlight was their cover of Lizzo’s “Truth Hurts”.   Ballsy move!  They bopped, boogied and bounced with great gusto all over the stage and when they finished with a rollicking “Our Own House”  with its zesty horn riffs, the crowd was getting into it.  (Jordan and I happened to be sitting in the “Family Section” and felt chastened by the uncertain-faced teens at their first show, not quite sure how to let loose, and their basic and somewhat resigned parents – neither of which group had a drink in their hands. Jordan made several trips up and back, soaking these poor people with vodka as she sloshed her way back to her seat.)

 FINALLY – the main event! The arena seethed with anticipation when the curtain billowed back and forth, sooo close to unveiling the set and stage. Finally, in a burst of red lasers and flames, Josh and Tyler appeared on the scene and ripped right into Jumpsuit, performed as a car on fire burned behind them. JUMPSUIT! JUMPSUIT! COVER ME! He screamed at the close, as we all did.

 Visually, the evening was a treat for the senses.  Kaledoscopic shifting colors and shapes, lasers, catwalks, a B Stage…. Costume changes and bridges,  Josh Dun and his abs on full display, Tyler with his various hats and costumes and instruments,  a glittering swath of twinkling lights for the gentle “Neon Gravestones” shining like stars caught in a net: The production of this tour was top-notch and stunning, allowing for a visual orgy to accompany the talent of the hometown boys. I stumbled across a line that I think puts it perfectly:

“This wasn’t a band rocking out, despite how hard Dun plays the drums. This was a post-apocalyptic rapper-hero performing songs with his drummer-sidekick nearby, in the midst of lasers and explosions.” They really do have a kind of anime’,  lone-wolf kind of renegade vibe going, especially with the way their albums tend to run with storylines: The Blurryface character, and now the bishops and mysterious DEMA of Trench.

Their setlist was packed full of the goodies…. Stressed Out (“what’s my name?” Tyler would chant rhythmically.)  The frenetic insanity and staccato rapping of Heavy Dirty Soul. My favorite from Trench, The Hype, or as I say “The song with the best ukulele-backed bridge ever written.” God that song is tight! They shifted stages during the end of “Nico and the Niners” and returned back on the main stage by the time Holding On To You started….. ahhhh, where Josh does his perfectly timed backflip from the piano! Lean with it, rock with it. Swoon, y’all.   Tyler’s laid-bare confessions are what resonate, causing the band’s wildfire-like leap to global fame.

 Something that is becoming a bit of tradition with the duo is that every show, as far as I know, has always ended with Trees. It’s a euphoric communal outpouring to close the night, everyone jumping up and down singing “LA LA…. LA LA LA LA LA LA….. HELLOOOOOOO!”  It’s a soft start, a gentle and sad build, and then a sweaty screamfest at the end. PERF!

 As we made our way out the doors and across the plaza, we made up songs like “My momma needs to take an elevator because of her busted tendon” – Jordan, and “OOooh but I got ma fishnet stockings on, yeahh” -Me.  Jordan also stepped on my foot and I howled in pain as she knelt before with remorse, boozily patting and stroking my foot.

 Sooo we grabbed another Uber, and here’s where things shifts from a normal boozy concert night to one for the books. Our dude, Dean, pulled up with the license plate that began with LGR.  Our relationship began with my opening sentence: “Your license plate says LIGER, like Napoleon Dynamite.  It’s a lion—and a tiger!”  And bam! Merrily we roll along!

 I am not quite sure how this went from polite chatter to veering off the rails, but I will condense and recount what went down as best I can recall.

Jordan: She had her achilles’ tendon repaired!

Dean: Oh, I can fix that.

(Like, totally matter of fact. Oh, I can fix that.)

 Jordan: Really?  YES!

Dean: Sure. We’re all made of electricity.  We’re just made of electric particles and neurons. I consult all over to doctors because I fix people.

Jordan: Why are you driving an Uber?

Me: .

Dean: Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.

Me: …How???

Dean: Electricity.

Jordan: How do you know how to do this?

Dean: I’m just kind of brilliant with this kind of stuff.

 OK, so, I’m kind of brushing it off at this point, thinking I’ll ditch him when we arrive at the ol’ Blu. Dean says he’s going to find a place to park and he will be right in. Jord and I get out and stand outside for a minute as we watch him drive around the corner.  “Let’s just go in,” I say.  “Yeah,” she agrees, “I think he left.”  My brain was so jumbled with confusion I wasn’t sure what was going on.  Was he actually planning on coming up to the hotel room?  “Let’s get inside,” I said, relieved that he probably was just messing with us and took off.

 The automatic glass doors blew open to the lobby and we walked in. Right behind us, a dude with a bag of City BBQ carryout and a gray medical-looking case followed us in.

Jordan: What’s that?

City BBQ dude: This is my (blah, blah, blah.)  It uses electricity to heal injuiries. (He says a name similar to   something like the Electralux El Diablo 5000.)

Jordan: She tore her achilles!

City BBQ dude: Yes, this equipment will heal it.

ME: (whipping my head back toward him):  OH MY GOD!!!! MY UBER DRIVER JUST SAID THAT TOO!  WHAT ARE THE CHANCES!?

Like, seriously, I am thinking this guest of the hotel is maybe a doctor in for a conference, or whatever.  It was only through muddled bits and pieces clicking together in my brain during the ride up in the elevator and ending when the bbq-toting man did not go to his “room” but walked in OURS that I fucking realized…

This guy WAS MY UBER DRIVER.

Not 2 separate people, both coincidentally on a mission and willing to fix bodily injuries with a machine with the equipment on their person.

 I was so confused when faced with this reality it was like I was living in an alternate universe.  As I am sputtering around saying, “Oh my God, I never really saw your face in the car, just the back of your head” Dean is busily and efficiently placing electrodes on my ankles, calves, shins, even my goddamn glutes.  I find myself saying, “You know, my shoulder has hurt a bit lately too” and he briskly whips my arm around and jams his thumb right where it hurts, murmurs the word “Release…..” and then slaps an electrode on my shoulder. THEN he hooks Jordan up. “Is this a TENS unit?”  I ask. “Pfft.  This makes a TENS unit look like child’s play” he retorts proudly.

Jordan and I are now are standing next to each other looking like inmates of The Green Mile and sizzling with pulsating electricity.   Dean eats his corn pudding, yanking the current up and down based on our grunts of discomfort. My phone is in my hand at all times with the first two numbers of 9 – 1 punched in and on high alert.  But as he contentedly moves on to his green beans with his feet kicked up on the table in front of him, I have to admit he looks pretty harmless.  

 I think Dean the Electrode Machine was in our room until midnight, giving us confident tips on how to heal, saying he could bring his machine anywhere in the world, and I finally started giving signs of get-out-I’m-tired. In a gentlemanly way, he bid us adieu, as I babbled on about leaving him a big tip.  I mean, he invited himself to cure me, but isn’t his time and trouble worth something?  I tipped him 30 dollars and added him on Facebook.  

 Jordan and I try to get ready for bed but she then runs into a couple of questionable characters and starts talking to them. The three of them are standing outside (why did we go back outside? Perhaps to bid Dean adieu, I believe.) They start cooking up plans like long lost homies.  I say “Get upstairs” and take her arm.  (She can be hard to manage once she crosses that line.)  We get in bed.  It is nearing 1am. Jordan lays on top of me crying and blubbering “Promise me you won’t ever die.”   I say kindly as I smooth her hair, “I will though.”   We laugh about being electrocuted by our Uber driver.  I say I can’t believe he just invited himself to our hotel room.  She casually says with the air of a jaded and well-worn matriarch: “Please, Mom, everybody hangs out with their Uber drivers in their hotels now.” Then she gets up again and walks out the door.  I am fading fast but I manage to say, “GET BACK IN HERE! Where are you going?”  I close my eyes for a minute and I open them when I hear the door open again and Jordan puts her face right next to mine and whispers in a low, clear, concerned voice:

“Mom. There is a naked man sitting in the egg chair in the hallway masturbating.”

“Huh?” I whisper back.

She repeats it.

With STRANGE AND STOIC CALM considering my inebriated and disoriented state, I pick up the desk phone.  The next thing I know, I am whispering as calmly and clearly as Jordan did: “Hello. This is Room 303. I want you to know there is a naked man masturbating in the egg chair up here in the hallway.”

 DEAD ASS PAUSE on the other end. Finally: “Umm, ahh, ok, I… I .. uhhh… I’ll come check it out.”

Five minutes later the phone startles me out of my slip into slumber.  

“Hello?” I answer.

“He’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yes. The man. No man.”

“Okay.”

 It is 2:30 now and I don’t just fall asleep—I hurtle into it like a plane crashing into the ground, fading to black.  I don’t wake up until I hear something.  It sounds familiar.  It’s a ringing sound.  It’s that thing that makes you wake up. But where is it?  “Jordan,”  I hiss. “Huh?” she moans.  She bolts upright and grabs her phone and stares at it. “This is new,” she whispers.  “Make it stop!”  I cry. The ringing continues.  I realize it’s coming from my phone which is on the floor.  I remember how to make it stop.  It’s 6:45 am. I lay in exhausted torment until 7:15. Then 7:30.  Then with every ounce of strength I can muster, I get my ass up and get to the excruciating business of  getting my shit together and getting my shit together…( sayin’ wake up, ya need to make money!)  At 8:10 Jordan and I are both in the car with a cup of coffee.  You’re not hard core unless you live hard core, like Dewey Finn says.

 I sail up 71 without incident.  The coffee kicks in and I’m actually feeling pretty okay. At 9:49, I pull into the venue we are at for the day at work. Jordan’s car is safe and intact.  I find a parking spot, wave to my friend, and tell Jordy to wake up.

 She sits up, opens her eyes, retches, opens the door, and promptly vomits down the side of my car.

I squeal, then chant prayerfully: OMG PLEASE DO NOT PUKE IN FRONT OF MY CO-WORKERS!

 I don’t even see her leave.  She is gone, slinking away to her car, as I had practically pushed her out of a moving vehicle.

 So.  That’s my review of Twenty One Pilots and a little story thrown in to boot.  

 PS My foot doesn’t feel any better.

PSS Pics below of Tyler, Josh, me, Jordan,and Dean.

[mfmagazine]

Tanya Min Jee

Article by Lauren Weigle

Photo by Jan Klier

Styling by Tanya Min Jee

Makeup/Hair by Stace Quach

Model: Michaela Boyce

So, what do you think defines Tanya Min Jee as an artist?  Some may think it’s her determination to always stay true to herself and her design aesthetic.  Others may think it’s her ability to take others opinions into consideration, but not let it deter her from realizing her vision.  She, on the other hand, believes it is, “the desire and need to express myself visually and create “beauty” in a tangible form,” that defines Tanya Min Jee as an artist.  

On your website, it titles you as Fashion Designer, Technical Designer, and Wardrobe Stylist. How does each one play a part in your career, being of a creative mind?

I chose to title myself as a fashion designer, technical designer, and stylist because I do (and enjoy) all three roles equally. It’s incredibly rewarding to be able to oversee and contribute to all aspects of the design process from taking what I envision in my head to seeing the finished garment styled on a gorgeous model for a kick ass photo shoot!

Where do you feel your strengths truly lie when it comes to your work?

My insatiable curiosity and my continuous quest to define “beauty” through my work. Always setting high standards and growing exponentially through each experience.

And what do you most struggle with as a designer and stylist?

Time management: there are so many opportunities, so much room for personal development, and so much more technical learning/exploring I have yet to experience. The fashion industry is constantly evolving and so should people in the industry, especially designers and stylists. So I do what I can, but time management and upholding a balance in life is always important for me to remain inspired and productive.

So, when it comes to styling, what are some rules of thumb you use?

Absolutely #1 in my book is FIT. This applies to my everyday customers as well.  No matter how gorgeous the fabric is, how amazing and/or unique the silhouette is, or what designer label you are wearing, if it doesn't fit well and flatter the figure, it is a waste of money and good closet space. Another important rule of thumb is consistently staying true to my styling aesthetic. No matter the artistic direction of the shoot, it’s important to me to always have an identity—a “signature” if you will on every outfit I pull. I would love to have enough of a styling presence where people look at photo and/or fashion editorial and say “that looks like Tanya Min Jee styled this shoot.”

I got ya.  Do you ever apply these guidelines to your personal, every-day wardrobe at home?

I dress what flatters my figure best and dress for comfort and ease, which suits well for my busy lifestyle. Somehow this is translating to wearing a lot of black. [Laughs]

Ha ha.  I totally understand.  Half my wardrobe is black.  So, what do you feel draws people to your clothing? What makes your designs stand out?

Edgy, modern, clean, and sophisticated. A marketable design sensibility with a fine art craft/execution. I would also like to say my clothing has a timeless and ageless quality to it, but only time will tell.

What kind of fabrics do you most like to incorporate into your line?

Natural fibers. I used wool for my 2010 collection and absolutely loved working with it; wool is easy to work with and not to mention, it looks so clean and crisp on the runway if patterned/sewn well. I also love fabrics that have a graphic nature to them, whether by screen-print, fabric manipulation, or irregularities in weave; it gives an unexpected touch to an otherwise simple design.

Tell me about some of your collection’s shows on the catwalk.

The first fashion show I was involved in was at my school, NYFA aka New York Fashion Academy, located in Seattle, Washington in the spring of 2009. Since then, my designs have graced Seattle's own THAW, Fashion's First, and Internationally for Vancouver Fashion Week's first annual design competition. It’s amazing how much preparation goes into a successful runway show, especially when you consider that a designer segment lasts no longer than five minutes! But trust me, all the hard work, late nights of sewing, and stress is worth it when it all comes together beautifully and I receive great feedback from industry professionals and prospective clients.

So, where can these prospective clients and buyers come to view your collections? How about the every-day customer?

My designs are available through custom order at this time.

Where did your dream to become an influential designer in the fashion community originate in the first place?

Hmm...not really sure. Growing up in a family of creatives/professional artists probably contributed to this. My father designs and builds houses, my sister is an accomplished, award-winning interior designer specializing in hospitality, both of them have been amazing role models growing up and always raising the bar when it comes to design/craft. Now, pursuing fashion? I have absolutely no clue [laughs]. The desire to become a fashion designer popped into my head—like an epiphany—in middle school but my dreams did not manifest until fifteen years later when I enrolled in fashion school in 2008.

Well, how does it feel to realize your dreams?

Amazing!  Beyond words... but my journey has just begun. I am nowhere near where I would like to be, but I feel I am at a great starting point.  

What advice would you give little girls who dream of doing the same thing as you?

The four P's: passion, persistence, patience, and a positive attitude. And this isn't a P, but oh so necessary: thick skin.  

Since you mention having a thick skin, has it been a tough road at all, getting to where you are now?

Absolutely. Fashion is an incredibly tough and competitive industry. Beyond the fabulous runway shows, beautiful models making your clothes look good, and the amazing photo shoots, fashion really is 1% glamour, 99% hard work and persistence. It is not an easy ride...but if it were easy, everyone would be doing it, right?

[vintagemichelle91]

A Chance Encounter

For @yourtropegirl and @rauliskafan (Thank you my dear for helping me and making sure it was worthy of posting!) 

Author’s note: @yourtropegirl you inspired a great idea and thank you for giving it to me. I took some liberties with it, but I really hope you like it!!!

(gif from @all-things-raul-esparza)

           “You’re up early.” Amanda Rollins, your neighbor from across the hall, greeted as you both locked your apartment doors. “I hope Jesse wasn’t your morning wake up call.”

           You smiled with a shake of your head. “It was more like my boss with her own wake-up call…fashion never sleeps,” you said as you rolled your eyes and waved your hand. A strong cup of coffee was going to be a definite necessity this morning.

           Amanda chuckled and walked alongside you towards the elevator. You’ve known Amanda for about three months now, and it was a relief to have a friend outside your job. The move from Georgia hadn’t been easy, especially to New York. Everything in the fast-paced Big Apple seemed so different from the semi tranquil life to which you were accustomed. But when an old colleague of yours contacted you with an opportunity to work as an Art Director for Crimson Magazine, you jumped at the chance immediately.

           The change was necessary and very much welcomed.

           “Well if that is the case let me just say you look lovely this morning,” Amanda complimented. Your outfit consisted of a simple grey wrap dress and a pair black knee-high boots. Yet the off-white coat and the right accessories topped off your outfit just perfectly.

           “Even if I haven’t had my morning cup this morning?” you questioned, your voice edged with amusement.

           Amanda sighed and playfully squeezed your shoulder. “Of course, even then.”

           “You are sweet.”

           “When you catch me on my good days, honey.” You both laughed as you reached the lobby.

           “I hope you have a good day,” you continued. “Wish me luck… it’s Fashion week and I have to attend two shows before lunch.” You mentally flicked through your schedule for the day and realized that you would not be home at a decent hour tonight.

           Amanda gave you a pained, sympathetic expression. Although your careers were worlds apart, you had things in common with the pretty blonde detective. And it was such a comfort to you to know that you lived right across the hall from a cop. Your first encountered one another when her daughter ended up spilling her sippy cup filled with apple juice on your suede Manolo Blahnik pumps. To say that you were internally screaming would be an understatement. However, the baby girl’s sweet giggle led to your own laughter. Amanda was horrified and offered to find some way to pay you for the damages, but you said that keeping an eye out on your humble abode from time to time would suffice.

           “Sounds fun nevertheless,” Amanda said.

��          “It’s a labor of love,” you said as you scrolled through your messages. As clichéd as it might sound, fashion was your passion. Your career was everything to you, no matter how stressful or exhausting it could be.

           Ding!

           Your neighbor took notice of the small smirk that spread across your lips as a message came through your phone.

           Sorry about canceling on you last night… work held me back. Hope your morning is running more smoothly than mine and if it’s not… tell me how to make it better for you.

           “Oh that secret man of yours has you wrapped around his finger.” Amanda poked fun, but she had admitted from time to time that it was nice to see that you were taking the time to at least date. It had been her idea to sign you up for an Internet dating service, which you were entirely against at first. But after a few drinks with Amanda and an overwhelming feeling of loneliness, you decided to give it a try.

           You sighed and clutched your phone stepping out into the cold New York street. “Figuratively, honey. He ended up canceling our date last night because of work.”

           “It’s been two weeks,” Amanda said in disbelief.

           “I know and I don’t even know what he looks like!” The rational part of yourself was at odds about the whole thing because this site was a little different. No pictures; this was more of a private website for people with solid careers. You went through the whole background check and everything, but you were still wary about it.

           “Maybe I gave you the wrong idea about this, but from the look on your face you are already in deep,” Amanda pointed out as she dug her hands further into her coat pockets.

           “He says the nicest things, Amanda. He doesn’t give me the vibe of having an agenda like most men,” you tried to reason with some ounce of hope that you were right. “This one is different.”

           “Mmm… as soon as you get a name let me know to run him through the system.” Amanda smiled before heading off in the opposite direction to head to her precinct.

           “Sure thing, momma.” You waved back with a laugh and hailed a cab to whisk you off to the nearest coffee shop.

           As you stood in line, you debated on how to answer him back. You didn’t want to seem desperate and answer right away; he had to work for it now that he had canceled on you last night. Heck, you even blew off the dinner with an upcoming brand and sent your colleague to the event.

           But Amanda was right; this man, whoever he was, had bewitched you with his digitized words.

           “Carmen, hold all my calls. Also, can you double check when I am supposed to meet with Judge Barth and can you please get me the Kemp brief from one of the interns… thank you.”

           You were never one to eavesdrop, but the man in front of you seemed to have a lot on his mind as you heard him sigh in annoyance and the line in the coffee shop was not moving any faster.

           “Tough morning?” you mused out loud.

           The man glanced up from his phone and subtle green eyes stared back at you in confusion. Your small smile made him realize you were talking to him.

           “More like week,” he replied in an annoyed voice.

           “Sorry to hear that. I don’t suppose saying it will get better will make much of a difference?”

           “In my line of work not in the slightest,” he answered with a sad smirk.

           Before you had a chance to say anything, your phone beat you to the punch.

           “No… I’ll be there in a few... make sure you get a picture of Vera Wang. We’re going to need it for the spread. Also, make sure you confirm my meeting with Barneys this afternoon. Send me the draft for that accessory article Tamara wrote, you know the one that JJ approved so I know how to lay it out. And please don’t forget to get my dress from Gucci for tonight’s dinner.” You hadn’t realized you said it all in one breath and the man behind you was completely amused by the time you ended the call.

           “It seems that your morning is busy too,” he pointed out.

           “Fashion week is incredibly notorious for that in my line of work,” you replied as the line finally began to move up and you counted your blessings. You were not sure how much longer they would hold your seat at the show.

           “Are you an editor?” he asked

           “An art director. But just as busy as the editor I suppose.” For the first time, you focused on his gray three-piece suit. It was tailored to perfection and that was an A+ in your fashion book, especially when it came to a man. Your eyes flickered down to his left hand and you didn’t see any sign that he was already taken. Another tick off your list. He was handsome and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks.

           And yet you held back on introducing yourself. There was no chance you could handle talking to two men as the same time and the one in front of you did not give you any indication that he was in the market for a date. Best to just give him one more smile and go your separate ways.

           You did just that as he reached the front of the line to finally order his coffee and left with another smirk. Just as you were about to pay for yours, the barista informed you that the stranger had paid for your coffee as well.

           Pulling out your phone, feeling generous with the nice gesture that was just bestowed upon you…why not make one yourself and reach out to your mystery man.

           You can make it up to me by meeting me tonight for drinks.

           When you finally took your seat and the models were ready to strut the catwalk in Vera Wang’s spring/summer collection, a message appeared on your phone.

           Just tell me where to meet you and I’ll be waiting- R

           So now you knew his first initial.

           Your head was miles away and nowhere near the dinner the magazine was hosting in honor of fashion week. On the outside, you dazzled your colleagues with your smile and your quick wit, but on the inside, you were a muddled, nervous mess. Was meeting your mystery man tonight the right choice? Would he cancel on you again? Were you just too damn brazen to be doing this in the first place?

           “Pull yourself together!” You mentally screamed at yourself as you took a small sip of white wine. Initially, you didn’t want to drink but you needed all the liquid courage you could get. Then again, you did not want to be drunk when you finally met him.

           R…

           There was a range of possibilities as to what his name could be. Amanda was less than forgiving about the entire ordeal when you called her during lunch to give her the news. But she was the one that actually knew about your dilemma and you needed to vent. You were starting to think that maybe this was just not right.

           Your eyes kept gazing over at the bar, hoping to notice any possible stranger with a phone in hand… but then again everyone these days clutched onto their phones for dear life. Opting to meet him after your work dinner, you told R to meet you at Bar Fiori which was conveniently located in the same vicinity of the restaurant. He happily agreed and said that he would be waiting at 9pm.

           According to your watch, you were due to meet him in ten minutes, and your heart raced at the prospect. Dessert plates were being pulled away as everyone said their goodbyes for the night and made plans to head out to after parties. You kindly declined the invitations and ducked into the powder room to make sure you were put together.

           “I figured you would be in here.” Amanda burst into the ladies’ room with a sigh of relief.

           “Amanda, what are you---?”

           “Honey,” Amanda said with her palm in the air. “You think I was going to let you meet him alone without back-up? No chance in hell.”

           You were touched at how protective Amanda was. Then again, did you really want to show up for your blind date with an SVU detective as a wing woman?

           “Thank you but---”

           “No, no buts. It’s not like I’m going to walk you over to him. I’ll be in the shadows watching,” Amanda reassured you before you could ask her to leave. “Once I make sure everything is okay, I’ll leave you to it.”

           You shook your head in awe. “Jesse’s dates will have to watch out for Momma Rollins.”

           Amanda laughed. “You know it. I thank my lucky stars that won’t be happening for quite awhile.”

           “Agreed!” You laughed as you touched up your lipstick. Everything seemed to be in place. Your hair was loose, falling in perfect waves and the deep plum knee length dress hugged you in all the right places. The black satin Christian Louboutins completed your look and just happened to be your good luck heels.

           “You look amazing. Honestly, I hope this guy turns out to be everything you hoped for. Because you deserve it,” Amanda said sincerely and you felt as if you were about to cry.

           “You are so sweet. But you’re going to make me ruin my make-up.” You gently wiped the corners of your eyes and fanned away the tears threatening to fall.

           Ding!

           Your heart practically leapt out of your chest as your phone signaled a new message. You took a small breath and checked.

           I’m here and very much ready to meet you- R

           “He’s here,” you said almost breathless…

           Amanda took hold of your shoulders. “You got this. And remember, I’ll be nearby if you need me.”

           You nodded, shaking your head as you set out meet your mystery man. Amanda stayed behind you as you made your way towards the bar. It seemed to have filled up even more so as the minutes ticked by and you glanced around. There were about three men who seemed to be alone.

           You turned back to Amanda and gave her a slight panicked look because you just weren’t sure. She looked just as distressed as you and narrowed her eyes looking at the men hoping to notice something that would give him away.

           Until her eyes widened and she shook her head in disbelief.

           “Counselor?” she called out rather loudly. You froze in the place you were standing.

           It was the handsome man from the coffee shop.

           “Rollins? What are you doing here?” the man said in disbelief as he set his glass of scotch down. Scotch? R had mentioned his love for the drink and your heart fluttered at the sight of it. You had no idea if it was the tall glass of wine you had at dinner or the hopeful prospect that he was indeed R that pulled you forward.

           “I’m sorry to interrupt, but… are you R?” You still had to ask just to make sure you were not about to make a fool of yourself.

           His gorgeous green eyes narrowed slightly in recognition. “I am. You’re the woman from the coffee shop.”

           “Yes,” you replied sheepishly.

           Forgetting that Amanda was standing close by, you let out a small breath of relief to discover that this was your mystery man. To top it off, Amanda seemed to know him quite well.

           “Well isn’t this something?” Amanda seemed beyond amused. “What a small world.”                                        

            “You know her?” He pointed toward Amanda.

           “She’s my friend and neighbor,” your smile confirmed.

           “So treat her well, counselor.” Amanda firmly grasped his shoulder and gave you a wink. “I should head off to relieve my babysitter,” she said, checking the time.

           “Thanks again, Amanda,” you said as you hugged her goodbye.

           “Tell me everything when you get home,” she whispered and left with a wave.

           “So….” you began, not knowing where to begin.

           “I think its time I properly introduce myself.” He stood up and offered his hand. “ADA Rafael Barba. I work with your friend.”

           “I guess her background check won’t be necessary after all,” you laughed and he quickly caught on as to what you meant.

           “I would hope not,” he said as he pulled out a seat for you and called for the bartender.

           You couldn’t help feel his eyes on you. Not a lustful stare; it was more of an appreciation of the way you looked. You weren’t uncomfortable in the slightest. Yet, his smirk still sent your knees buckling.

           After introducing yourself, any and all doubts faded. It was replaced by light laughs, subtle smirks, and a hand on the back of your chair close to your skin. The conversation carried on as effortlessly as it had when you messaged back and forth.

           By your third drink, you realized it was getting late and remembered you had a meeting in the morning.

           “I should get going.” You weren’t keen to leave as you lingered closer to him.

           “It is getting late. I wouldn’t want to answer to Rollins tomorrow for keeping you out to long.” He chuckled as he traced the rim of his glass while keeping his eyes on you. It was as if he was trying to take in every single feature of your face, like he was painting a picture with his gaze.

           “I’ll make sure to tell her to be nice to you,” you replied.

           “Does that mean you’ll accept a proper dinner invitation?” he asked with a sparkling stare. Oh, those green eyes were going to be the end of you…

           “That depends… are you asking?” It didn’t hurt a little to tease him just a little. Better still to keep him on his toes and he played along flawlessly as he leaned in closer. The subtle hint of his cologne wafted between the both of you and you couldn’t help but sigh.

           “Yes.” His voice was low and a tingle ran up your spine. His fingers slowly caressed your bare arm and your eyes closed. “I would very much like to see you again.”

           You melted at the sound of his voice and your eyes fluttered open. “I’d like that, too.” He was just as irresistible as his written messages. More so.

           With an agreed date and time for your next encounter, this time not by chance, he hailed a cab for you to make sure you would get home safely.

           “Guess we have to say goodnight now,” he said as he grasped your hand and gazed into your eyes.

           You looked at him from beneath your long lashes and felt your heartbeat quicken. Secretly you hoped that he would kiss you, but you weren’t sure it that was proper for a first meeting. But he was just so damn irresistible that you found yourself moving closer to him until his lips were inches away from yours.

           “Until next time,” you whispered back in time to feel his kiss. Gentle and sweet and once he let you go, he left you swaying with longing for more.

           With the blaring of the cabbie’s horn, you two were pulled out of your trance and he ushered you into the back seat. He still lingered by the curb with the door still open, seemingly not wanting to see you go.

           “See you soon, Rafael,” you promised as you waved goodbye. The taxi had barely turned the corner when your phone dinged.

           Dinner’s too long to wait. Coffee tomorrow?

           You grinned like a schoolgirl as you fired back a response.

           You’re on. But this time I’m buying.

           Sweet dreams, fashionista.

           With his kiss on your lips, how could they be anything but?