Mischievous Laugh Novels & Stories

During the holiday season, a flood hits. The company's warehouse is submerged up to the third floor. Due to the emergency, I have my assistant tell everyone to come back a day early to help. I promise that the company will provide stipends and extra time off to make up for this. But on that day, a Gen Z employee goes live across the internet to report me. "Oh, my God. It's 2025, yet there are still companies forcing employees to adjust their time off and work overtime! Is this heartless boss so broke that she needs to exploit us like this? Will she die if she doesn't squeeze us out of every drop of usefulness? Company notices override the law. Impressive stuff, this is!" Soon, the company ends up on the trending list due to criticism from the online community. Even the regulators come knocking to hold us accountable. In the end, the company is forced to cancel the notice. A lot of equipment isn't salvaged in time, resulting in significant losses. The employee even posts a victory lap. "Give the boss a tiny lesson—see if she dares to force overtime again!" I'm so angry that I laugh out loud. I tell my assistant to cancel the annual benefit we give all employees—an entire month of paid time off for Christmas and the New Year holidays. If we have to stick strictly to the law, then fine. Have it your way!

As I gazed into his eyes, I couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity, as if I had known him for years. "There's something about you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Something that draws me to you." He smiled, revealing a set of perfect teeth. "I feel it too," he said, his voice low and melodic. "It's like we were meant to meet." I couldn't deny the electricity that coursed through me as he spoke, and I found myself leaning closer to him, wanting to feel his warmth. "Who are you?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. He chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "I'm just a guy," he said. "But I've been told that I have a certain charm." I couldn't help but laugh at his modesty, knowing full well that he was more than just a guy. He had an aura about him, a sense of confidence and self-assurance that was both intimidating and alluring. As we continued to talk, I found myself opening up to him, sharing things that I had never told anyone before. It was like he was a confidant, someone that I could trust with my deepest secrets. And as we parted ways, I knew that I had met someone special. He was more than just a guy, he was a kindred spirit, a soulmate that I had been searching for all my life.

At twenty, she was taken to a night club for the first time. Now, at twenty six, she meets with the one man she has ever slept with. Christopher Allen. She had taken his money and ran. She always hoped to never come across him again. Now, he appears and wants to take his daughter or they get married. Yes, she had a child after just one night. One night of reckless abandon. Her first time. {"You make me laugh, I am here for what belongs to me and I think you know what that is," he said. My heart dropped to my feet immediately after he said that. I know he would want his money and I hope that is what he is talking about. "What do you want, your money?" I asked hoping he will say yes. "You are very funny... I want what belongs to me and you know very well what that is, yes, you took my money but, that's not what I am talking about... I WANT MY DAUGHTER!" } He had come demanding and she had no choice. She either agrees to be his wife or never sees her beloved daughter again. That was what bound her to him for life. A night had led to being his forever.

When Seth Gibson told me his legs were crippled and that only snowmelt from a mountain's peak could cure him, I did not hesitate. I scaled the mountainside, climbing over 15,000 feet just to get some snow for him. When I staggered back, bruised and scratched, cradling the snow outside the hospital room, I overheard cruel voices down the corridor. "Seth, today's the deadline. Nevaeh still isn't back. Could she have died up there?" "I heard that the mountain's pretty high. She might have gotten altitude sickness. What a shame! She's already risked herself for Seth ninety-nine times. This was supposed to be the last time before the game ended." "Serves her right! She used to bully Janice, Seth's childhood friend, didn't she?" I saw Seth through the crack in the door. He was standing at the window, his legs perfectly intact, and his expression ice-cold. "Enough," he said flatly. "If she dies, the game ends." I froze in disbelief until it finally sank in. Seth had been pretending all along. A laugh nearly escaped me. What a relief! I could finally get rid of this weight on my shoulders. I pulled out my phone and called his uncle. "I'll marry you," I said.

The dying heir to Silverbay's showbiz empire suddenly announces he'll select a bride at random from the city's prominent families, hoping the marriage can bring some luck and save his life. On the night before my own wedding, his men arrive and inform us that the Simmons family has been chosen. My parents have just three days to deliver a daughter to him. As soon as my sister, Roxanne Simmons, hears the news, she breaks down in tears and rushes to my fiance for help. When he sees her crying, Clinton Whitfield drops to his knees in front of me, under everyone's gaze. "Mr. Sterling enjoys tormenting virgins. If Roxanne marries him, who knows what he'll do to her? "But you're already past the marrying age, so he won't be interested in you. Please, help Roxy this once!" He looks away, his voice heavy with guilt as he continues, "Besides, he doesn't have much time left. When you return, I'll marry you." Tears well up in my eyes. I ask, stunned, "And what if I don't want to?" Clinton's gaze turns cold, his earlier guilt replaced by ruthless intent. "Then I'll make sure you go to him myself." I laugh bitterly as a chill runs through me. "Fine. I'll go instead."

From high school to my sophomore year in college, I've been in four relationships. None of them lasted, obviously. Boys my age just don't know how to treat a girl like me. I turned twenty, two weeks ago, and decided to swear off love until this hunk of a man walks into our film class. The stranger who I rocked during my birthday party. Well, I thought I only rocked him but memories of that night flood me upon seeing his face. His hands on my waist, my back to his chest, his mouth on my neck. And then...one of the club's rooms. Oh my God! "Good morning everyone, I'm Professor Christian Lambert but you can just call me Professor Lambert. I'll be taking you on international film studies from now on." His gaze ignores all the students in front of me and lands on me. My body warms at the intense memory of us together during my birthday party. As if thinking about the same thing, his face splits into a mischievous grin. Rumors soon begin to fill the campus about the professor. Five years ago, his ex-girlfriend mysteriously disappeared but was later found a month later, in a man's shirt. It was the professor's DNA that was found in her hair and because there was no evidence, he went scot-free. I planned to keep my distance from him after hearing the rumors but... ****** "Hey, little birdie" Professor Lambert corners me after one of my lectures. "I couldn't stop thinking about you after that night." I swallow hard and avoid his piercing brown eyes. Is this right? He's my professor and a rumored killer but...why is my heart beating so fast?

She thought the worst thing that could happen to her had already happened. Her husband. His assistant. Eight years of marriage quietly falling apart on a Tuesday afternoon while she was at work. She was wrong. Evelyn Harper bought the house on Harrow Hill to disappear. Remote. Abandoned. Cheap enough to make her laugh out loud at two in the morning. She should have asked why it was so cheap. From the very first night, something in the walls knew her name. Evelyn. Low and unhurried. The way someone speaks your name when they have been waiting a very long time to say it out loud finally. Then came the touch. Fingertips, cool and deliberate, ghosting along the inside of my thigh. I shifted, half asleep, my legs parting before I could think better of it. The touch climbed higher, slow and patient, tracing the seam of me, circling the ache that bloomed hot and sudden between my legs. I was embarrassingly wet, instantly wet ,hips rocking into nothing, chasing the sensation. Then she knew that; Something ancient lived in that house. Something that had chosen her specifically. Something that had been waiting for her bloodline for over a century. And the lonely man who follows her into its darkness may be the only thing standing between Evelyn and losing herself forever. Some houses don't just haunt you They own you.

Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs. He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man. This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress. "She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her." He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed." Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I opened my mouth and asked Salvatore for a divorce. Salvatore let out a sharp, ugly laugh, his eyes full of contempt. "Francesca, you pull this same shit every time," he jeered. "Your act is pathetic. Even more dramatic than your performance in bed." He leaned in. "You really want to divorce me? Fine. I'll give you five million in cash if you actually walk out that door." The living room erupted in laughter. They all said I was playing hard to get, that I didn't know my place. But they didn't know. This was the 88th time I had asked for a divorce, and it was the first time I truly meant it.

We all know how it ends, the story of the sexy cheerleader and the captain of the football team. But this is different. Every cheerleader always dates every guy on the football team it is a "high school achievement". You know how it feels to walk down the hall and have all eyes on you, most of them envy you, some wish they were you, some wants your man and the few just would stop at nothing to drag you down. Well that's a "high school challenge" one way or the other student see school as a battle field in other to meet up with the high status, keeping up appearances, expressing themselves and getting high. Keeping up good grades is only secondary. PROM, PROM, PROM, that's what's on every girls mind and it will be embarrassing when your girls ask "who are you going with" and you say "with no one", "that's a high school walk of shame". High school is like a bed you lay. You can choose how you want to lay it, what matters is you lie on it eventually. By The story of the sexy cheerleader and the captain of the football team are just like the fairy tale story of Cinderella and her prince charming but the question is, does every story end up like that? Still, standing at the far end of the hallway was a simple introvert, trying to cook up the courage to say one word to her. He could see her laugh at her friends jokes, but can she SEE him?

I could hear the thoughts of the poorest girl in the entire school. At our campus ball, she deliberately ate food that contained nuts to give herself an allergic reaction and blame me for it. With tears streaming down her face, she cried, "I know you don't like me! I know you look down on girls as poor as me, but you can't bully me like this!" Everyone believed her and turned on me, including my fiancé, Mark Hawkins, who was expected to form a political alliance with my family through our engagement. He pinned me in place and demanded that I apologize to the 'victim'. I shook my head, trying desperately to explain that it was not me who put the nuts in her food. That was when I heard the thoughts of that 'poor' girl, Alice, ''So what if she's the mafia don's daughter? I still brought her down. Being defended by her rich, clueless fiancé feels incredible!' I was stunned. Before I could react, Mark pushed me to the floor and said firmly, "Helen, apologizing won't kill you." A disbelieving laugh slipped out of me. I wondered if he would still say the same thing if he could hear Alice's thoughts. When I finally gained the ability to share the thoughts I heard with someone else, I chose Mark without hesitation.