#(also the employee that was giving the prize packs was like 'you know what you had two draws so I'm gonna give you a pack because that's

[evita-shelby]

No substitute for experience

My first Tom Bennett x milf!reader smut (some slight Tom Bennett x reader's daughter sprinkled there)

If its a little wonky please remember i am asexual and writing this was already a feat in itself.

For @hoosbandewan and @elizarbell , who convinced me to do it

Cw: sex, power play, boss/employee dynamic, erotic asphyxiation, infidelity, younger man/older woman

Internet cookie to those who figure out who is the reader's husband.

Gif by @violaobanion

You are old enough to be his mother and yet that’s no issue for him.

He'd gotten a gig as your chauffeur and for the first time in his life he'd been eager to work. Before the first week had ended you’d given him a raise for his great service.

Tom’s been with plenty of girls, but now as he was shown how great sex was with an experienced woman, there was no way he was missing a single day of work.

The fine Bentley is the most common setting for your escapades, but the two of you have grown bold enough to fuck in the car garage, the stables where your husband kept his prized thoroughbreds and even the bed the two of you shared when he wasn’t away in London or your country estate in Birmingham.

Tom knew this was just a fling and would end once your business in Manchester ended, but there was something about you that drove him wild.

“You wished to speak to me, ma’am?” He plays the employee when he is ordered to your office by the housekeeper who does a great job of pretending she doesn’t know why you go through chauffeurs like he goes through packs of cigarettes.

You do not give anything away, dressed to kill and lips red as a bombshell as you play the stern lady of the house. You wear a tight number, something that put your best assets on display.

No one could touch you and live to tell the story, every one knew what your husband did besides politics.

He was playing with fire, but oh how good it felt even of it burned.

“I have had reports of your behavior with the maids, Bennett.” You try not to smirk and yet your eyes betray you as his do. You have the riding crop across your lap and the blonde miscreant knows he’s going to enjoy the punishment you dole out.

You like control, you have your husband wrapped around your finger and put the fear of god into anyone who dared to stand in your way.

If they put you in a room with Hitler, you’d put a stop to his nonsense with look.

“Just being friendly with Sarah and Alice, nothing serious.” He shrugs and adds, “Are you jealous, Y/N?”

You don’t know yet that he’s also been fooling around with your daughter, but for know he keeps his mouth shut. Tom didn’t want to lose the only job he's ever liked yet.

“Mrs. L/N.” you correct. You are Mrs. L/N when you play the boss and the chauffeur with him, but he’s come to enjoy going off script and making you lose your patience.

He knows he’s in for a spanking anyways, why not remind you he’s not one to keep his head down and bite his tongue?

You like his fire, you’ve told him yourself when he’d ravaged you after a visit from your husband.

Bet he can’t go on and on like this anymore, he’d said making use of his youthful vigor.

Oh, silly boy, there’s no substitute for experience, you’d said bopping his nose as of he were one of your children.

“How will you punish me, Mrs. L/N?” he asks taunting you with your own name and keeping himself defiant. “Will you spank me like a kid again?”

The fucking is always better when he provokes you.

“God, no, I’d hate to be predictable, Tommy.” You then asked him to join you on the fancy couches he’ll never afford in this lifetime.

You sit on his lap revealing nothing underneath your skirt, but you don’t let him touch you or even unbuckle his own belt.

“Only good boys get to touch me.” You playfully removed his hands from your waist before springing his cock free from its confines. “I have to teach you to obey, sweet boy.”

He doesn’t need much to be ready for you just as you were already fired up and ready to fuck before he even came into the room. You feel good, so good he thinks you aren’t going to punish him further.

“This doesn’t feel like a punishment, Y/N.” Tom groans lowly as you begin to ride him. He can’t touch you, but really its no hardship.

Your hands roam up his torso and settle on his neck. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

You have a wild and occasionally sadistic side to you, beside control you like inflicting pain onto your toys. Tom was no different and he bets every man and woman before him didn’t give a shit either.

“There is a Siberian prayer called Khlysty, where a priest would place their hands on your neck and give you the most wonderful ecstasy via strangulation.” You begin and waits for him to agree or refuse.

You only go as far as he allows and while the idea frightened him, he knows you wouldn’t hurt him or worse kill him.

He's in safe hands, literally.

“Russians always know where the fun is, don’t they?” Tom relaxed under her touch as the hands around his neck grew tighter.

But you don’t stop fucking yourself with him as if he were a toy and he fights the urge to touch you and return fire.

Feels damnably good. Better than anything so far.

And when he feels he can’t breathe anymore, when it begins to hurt despite the fact that he’s about to cum, you bring your lips to his ear and whisper the last thing he expected.

“Can my little girl make you cum like this, Bennett?” You let go and Tom unraveled in ways he’d never done before.

He's barely regained his ability to speak when he answers, “No substitute for experience, ma’am.”

[rudylloyd]

hiiiiii could i get yer phonetoy/mattven hcs :3 -94

I thought you'd never ask.

Courthouse wedding. Their witness was a scuttler. Yes the marriage is legally binding, as this particular scuttler was an employee of Fazbender Entertainment.

They live in Matt's house. He has a pretty decent one story, two bed/two bath house near work so they save a lot of money in gas since they walk to work.

Steven gets easily irritated at work [I mean look at his employees], so Matt likes to give him pep talks in the office when its closing time n steven needs to do paperwork

Lots of little notes passed back n forth during work hours. Lots of little scribbles and smiley faces [like this]

Steven asks Matt for his input on what merchandise to keep in the prize corner

He also looks the other way when Matt sells fireworks.

During the beginning of their relationship, because Matt had never been in a relationship prior to this one, he didn't know what nicknames would be considered endearing, so he just called Steven "honey boss" for two weeks before steven said "honey would suffice."

Honey and Dearest [alternatively, hon and dear]

Matt "night owl" Virginia and Steven "early bird" Stevenson.

they didn't have proper engagement rings for a while. Steven proposed with a spider ring from the prize counter. Matt keeps that in a lil box.

When its cold or raining, Steven insists that Matt uses his suit jacket to fend off the weather. Matt used to act like he was annoyed with Steven doting on him, but eventually gave in and ended up buying a new jacket for Steven just to keep the old one.

They don't have a big spoon/little spoon dynamic. They sleep like they're playing twister and usually wake up with one of them half off the bed and the other one sitting straight up.

Matt has his own desk in Steven's office. He usually helps fill out paperwork but sometimes he just doodles all over it.

Two gossipy boys. Never a dull moment when you both really dislike a certain pair of crayon colored idiots.

[this one's long, I'm sorry] but their first date happened because Steven had been flirting with Matt, but Matt had no idea at first. When he was worried he was stringing Steven along, he tried telling him he wasn't worth the effort the phone was clearly putting in. When Steven kept pushing Matt gave him one chance to really woo him. It ended up working.

Steven washes Matt's hair in the sink bc he doesn't think Matt gets it all the way done when he showers. That's why his hair is so luxurious.

They pack each other's lunch. Steven usually leaves Matt a nutritious and filling lunch along with three snacks. Matt thinks Steven's as bad a snack addict as he is and packs only snacks and little juice boxes. [easily drinkable snacks. applesauce, yogurt, etc.]

Matt makes phone calls on Steven's head and sometimes, just to fluster him, pretends to forget the numbers so he has to keep restarting. It's the phone equivalent of combing your fingers through their hair since. yknow.

Similarly, Steven tends to do that. Usually without realizing it, he just gets comfy lingering around the prize counter and then suddenly his hand is in Matt's hair and Dave and Old Sport are doing that "Phoney and Matt sitting in a tree" childhood rhyme.

Slow dancing in the kitchen just for the hell of it.

On Steven's head, on the bottom part, he has Matt's name engraved in it. Matt has a small tattoo on his chest of Steven's name.

they argue. but about stupid stuff like Steven beating Matt to the answer in a crossword puzzle or Matt stealing Steven's shirts n wearing them to work. It's never anything serious, just silly stuff.

And now. A drawing.

[nagarajseofreelancer]

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[peachydinosaur]

finally met the Fake Nerd Girl that nerd guys make up to get upset about sometimes. it was two grown men at a magic the gathering tournament that kept very loudly saying Factually Incorrect things about different topics and getting upset when someone corrected them on the mechanics of the new Unfinity set (which was what the tournament was for)

[barry-j-blupjeans]

🎈 for Taako and Kravitz, the kid could be Angus or maybe Taako is forced to take Mookie because everyone else is busy

9. 🎈you're a single parent at this birthday party at my work and I cannot believe I have to keep up the shtick when I'd much rather be wooing you 

--

Mookie Highchurch was the worst child Taako has ever known. That being said: He didn't know a lot of children. But he was pretty damn sure they weren't all this bad. Mavis was chill, mostly, but a little too stuck up, and Taako had given up on her after she told him that "stealing from the grocery store isn't cool, Uncle Taako". Kids these days, really. Angus was sort of teetering on the edge between cool and uncool, because, on one hand, he did help Taako finish his undergraduate degree. On the other hand, he insisted that getting Arby's every day was "bad for your health" and "death to your wallet".

(Both were true but Taako would never admit it. Where else would he get potato cakes?)

Actually, if you put it in that perspective, Mookie was objectively the coolest out of all three of the children Taako knew. Mookie didn't send him the disgusted side-eye only a pre-teen could manage when Taako used a slang term. He didn't want to read science books all day like Angus and he didn't think that Taako was a "consequence of all morally bad choices catching up with him" like Mavis (he really needed to talk with Hekuba, like, come on). He was loud, and fun, and adorable.

Like a baby demon. Or a puppy who would bite you when you stopped paying attention. Or both.

Taako sagged against the prize counter, head in his hands. The bright lights in here were giving him a headache. Why he ever agreed to taking Mookie to this birthday party, he'd never know. Even worse, the other parents seemed to have no clue that he wasn't Mookie's father. Taako was too overwhelmed to be upset about that. Maybe for payback, he'd make Merle take his place at work for a day. That'd show him.

It'd also ruin his business forever, probably. Okay, scratch that, he'd find some new revenge.

"Hey," said a voice from Taako's right, barely perceptible over all the noise. Taako looked up and then immediately flung himself away. The mascot for the restaurant was standing next to him. It- they? He?- was tall, covered in green fur, which didn't make sense because he was an alligator, and alligator's didn't have fur- with some sweet kicks on and a neon pink shirt. No pants for this 'gator.

"Sorry!" the alligator said. The rest of the words got drowned out in the heavy music that played.

"What?" Taako asked. The alligator seemed to repeat what he said, but it was just a soft undertone under all the sound. "I- I can't really hear-"

The alligator held up a hand in a "follow me" motion. Taako glanced over his back- Mookie was fucking kicking ass as skeeball- and shrugged. He'd be fine. The gaggle of moms near the tables would handle him. Taako followed the alligator towards a room labeled "Employee's Only!" and stepped inside. The music could be heard through the door, but dimmer, and more manageable. The lights in here were much softer.

"Geez," Taako said, leaning back against the wall. "Thanks, my man."

The alligator lifted his hands to his big, terrifyingly realistic head, and twisted. After a second of struggle, the head popped off, and underneath was a human man, who shook his hair out of his face. He set the head down on a table nearby.

He was... hot. Like, holy fuck, this dude was hot. Those cheekbones? That hair? His goddamn eyelashes were so long. Taako suddenly felt breathless for very different reasons.

"You seemed overwhelmed," the alligator- god, that was weird now without the mask- said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm-" Taako snorted, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I mean, I've got a pack of hell children running around me, and mine keeps wanting to show me bugs he found on the ground every three seconds, so, like, yeah. Not thrilled about all of this."

"It can be a lot," the alligator said. "Which one's yours?"

"He's not mine, actually," Taako said. And then, "not that I took him from someone! His dad was busy so I was like "sure, I'll take care of this monster for a few hours, why not?" and then he was like "oh, he's got a birthday party to go to! Good luck!"" and now I think he's either at a dance recital or out clubbing. Who's to say at this point."

The alligator smiled at him. Taako's insides did a funny little flip.

"He's the really short one," Taako said because he suddenly realized he hadn't answered the question. "With the curly hair- hey, homie? What's your name? 'Cus I keep calling you "the alligator" in my head and that's not working for me."

"It's Kravitz," he said, tucking a loc of hair behind his ear. "The curly-haired one is the one who threw a basketball at me earlier, right?"

Taako wanted to die. Just strike him down then and there. Mookie was no longer cool. They did not throw basketballs at hot alligator people. What was Merle teaching this kid?

"Yeah," he said. "That's him. Sorry about that."

"I can deal with him if it means I get to talk with you," Kravitz said. "Wait, that's- fuck, didn't mean to say that. Sorry, uh-"

"No," Taako said, grinning. "You don't get to back out of that so easily. Keep talkin', Krav."

"I got some... children... to go, uh, frighten," Kravitz said, picking up the mask. It was hard to see, but there was definitely some blush on his cheeks that wasn't there before.

"You gotta go frighten some children," Taako repeated. Kravitz nodded, slamming the alligator mask back onto his head.

"Yup," he said. "You can- feel free to stay in here 'til your ready to come out-" Taako snorted. Kravitz batted a hand towards him, but didn't comment on it. "If anyone asks, just say I let you back here, yeah? Uhm, gotta- gotta go get basketballs thrown at my head and stuff, so-"

"Good luck," Taako said.

"Thanks," Kravitz said, still sounding flustered. He slipped back through the door and Taako stared after him for a moment before leaning back with a smile.

Maybe this wouldn't be too bad after all.

[hoodieofholland]

hey love. I’m obsessed with mob!tom - could you write something where mob Tom and the reader have a really big fight and Tom says something that was really mean and reader storms out and doesn’t come back until late and night and Tom is super worried :) at the beginning angst and at the end fluff.

I actually asked other writers too to write this a while ago but nobody does it and I found your account now and I’m so in love with your writing you are super talented <3

Sorry if my English is not really good- it’s not my first language

A/n: dear anon, you were reading my mind! I was actually procrastinating with a draft of some angst with mob!tom for a while, and you just motivated me to write it again hahah im obsessed with mob!tom too btw, no shame on this lol. Thanks for requesting, hope you like it!

Masterlist Request/tell me your thoughts on this

Warnings bellow the cut!

Warnings: angst, language, mention of gun.

You throw your purse over the table as you storm inside the house, walking up to your room with a stern face, straightened back and confident steps, without saying a word. Tom watched you from behind, sighing as he knew what was about to come - you were pissed.

He followed you slowly, not wanting to hurry the fight that was about to come. He knew pretty well what he has done tonight, but wasn’t planning on apologize, as he was also sure he wasn’t wrong about it.

By the time he reached the main room, you were already in the closet, taking off your jewels and putting them inside their boxes. “Baby”, he called you, but you didn’t raise your head.

Your gesturing was obviously stating your humor - or the lack of it. You wasn’t being so careful with the expensive belongings, as you always made sure to be.

“Baby”, Tom tried again, sighing this time, “Can you at least tell me what the hell did I do?”

That was the breakpoint. You lifted your head to look at him sternly. “Seriously? You gonna really act like you don’t know?”

He snorts, running a hand through his brown curls. “I mean, I know. I just don’t get why you’re so upset about it”

You laugh humorless. “I’m upset ‘cause you fucking treated me like a doll, Tom. That’s why I’m upset about it!”

“What?”, he snapped, narrowing his eyes. “What the fuck, I just told that asshole of a waiter to get his shit together instead of eye-fucking you. For God’s sake, what’s wrong with that?”

"Well, maybe the fact that you made a scene in front of the manager because you were jealous?" You shout, shaking your hands. "Should I tell you the obvious fact that this man is probably fired now because of your speech?".

Tom was growing mad. He couldn't believe you were defending the guy who was flirting with you the whole dinner.

Turns out that what was supposed to be a calm and relaxing dinner quickly became something distasteful, as Tom took notice of the waiter that was serving your table that night looking at you with a dumb smile on his face the entire time. He could even see the guy talking to some other workers about you, staring at you like you were some kind of meal. So Tom did what he thought was right - he made it very clear that you were his girl and a employee shouldn't be looking at you like that.

"I don't give a single fuck if he's unemployed right now. He should take this as a lesson to not disrespect you or any other woman in his workplace", Tom said, undoing his tie and throwing it in anywhere in the wardrobe. He was tired and pissed with the whole situation - and, more important, with you, for making a big deal out of it.

"Disrespect me, or disrespect you, Tom?", you snap, eyes wide with anger. "Cause it didn't look like you were worried about me. Cause all I wanted was a peaceful dinner with my boyfriend, who actually never seems to be available to me, and you made it pretty hard for me to enjoy, just because you were mad for a guy possibly be flirting with your girl! Like I fucking belonged to you!"

"Oh, fuck off, y/n", he hissed, walking past the closet's door and going straight to the bathroom. "It's obvious I'd be pissed for the it too. You're my girl, and I don't think it's nice if other man look at you like that! Don't act like you've never done it too".

You followed him, yelling next. "Shit, you're unbelievable! What is it? Nobody can look at Tom Holland's girl? Because you're the great motherfucker mobster and I'm your fucking prize?"

Tom turned his body to glance at you again. He pointed a finger at you, eyes serious and penetrating. "I've never said it. That's not how I see this".

"Oh, really? So you care to explain me why do you keep doing that? We barely spend time together now, Tom, and when we finally get to have a nice night out, you make sure to state that I'm yours and that no other man can lay an eye on me", you sniff, unable to keep the cracked voice from coming out and show how upset you felt about it. "I don't like to feel that I'm waiting for you like a goddamn doll, Tom".

"Well, darling, I'm sorry if I'm not being enough, but that's how real world works", his voice is cold and he is avoiding looking into your eyes, his jaw clenched in a way that make it clear that he's not satisfied with the conversation's rumor. "I made it pretty clear when we first met that my job doesn't allow me to be here the entire time, so what the fuck do you expect me to do? Or do you think that this nice house and the maids, and all the fucking jewels I give you come for free? Tell me, y/n, what the hell you want from me?"

You watch his usually soft features whenever you were around turning into the one he used with his men. The veins in his neck visible, his pupils huge and thin lips trembling with anger. Tom has never spoken to you that way, and you could feel the pressure on your chest with the pain from his harsh words.

A couple of tears rolled down your cheeks and you were quick to rub them away with the back of your hand. Noticing the way you pressed your lips together lightly, Tom's face softened and he realized his posture and tone.

"I don't- I don't know, Tom", you say in a low, croaky voice. "Think I just wanted us to be a couple. I'm truly sorry if that's too much to ask you for".

His heart pained at your words and he took a few steps in your direction. "Darling, no, that's not what I-"

You stopped him, putting your arm in front of you and shaking your head. "No, that's exactly what you wanted to say. I don't know what I had in mind when we started dating, nor what I was thinking when I agreed to move in here, but I don't want to be between you and your job anymore".

He stared at you, unaware of what you were about to do, thinking about what to say. He didn't want to fight with you like that, but didn't want you to think that what you've said is true neither.

You walked past him and straight to the closet again, picking up your suitcase and grabbing a few clothes from the wardrobe. Tom watched you for a few seconds, startled, and then started to panic.

"What are you doing?"

You ignored him, trying to think what you'd possibly need to get to stay out tonight. You could get the rest of your things later, but right now you just wanted to get out of that house.

"Y/n, love, what are you doing?" He asked in desperation, reaching your arm and trying to pull you away from the wardrobe, but you just shrugged his touch off.

"What does it look like? I'm leaving, Tom! If you can't conciliate our relationship with your job, then I guess I have nothing to do here anymore". You say through gritted teeth.

"What?!" He breathed out. "Darling, you can't leave like-"

"Don't you fucking call me darling!"

Tom stops and stares at you, blinking. His mouth is agape, trying to get his thoughts together. You didn't stop packing, and when he saw the determination in your actions, he simply couldn't contain the anger growing on his chest.

"Know what? Go. Leave me! Get the fuck out of this house. I don't fucking care!" He yelled, and you jumped slightly at the sound of his guttural voice.

You wiped some of new tears and nodded once, not minding to get anything else as you closed your suitcase and walked out of the room, hands shaking from the emotions you were so hardly trying to refrain.

But before you could step out of the room and go down on the stairs, you turn around to see he stagnant at the same spot. "Fuck you, Tom. You can take all this damn jewelry. Take this, the clothes, and everything else you bought me. If I can't have you, these don't mean a single thing to me. I'm not a fucking doll, Tom".

You left, and he couldn't move for minutes straight.

*********

The night passed by and Tom didn't hear from you. He checked his phone more times than he liked to admit, but you didn't answer any calls, any messages. Nothing. He didn't even realize what time he fell asleep on the couch, waiting for some sort of sign from you, but in the morning, when he rolled out of it, his heart pounded in his chest at the realization that you were nowhere to be seen.

He asked Harrison, his best mate and the second person you most chatted with in the house, if he has seen you, but he didn't have anything. So Tom waited, trying to focus on his work for the morning and the evening, as he thought that maybe you just wanted some time to think clearer. He regretted saying those things to you already, knowing that none of that was true. Obviously he did care if you were there in the morning. He wanted to wake up with you by his side like every other day. It was all that mattered for him after all. Not the money, not the jewel, not the house. It all didn't make sense when you weren't there.

And he felt so sick thinking that you truly believed he was seeing you as a prize, as a doll that would stand beautifully waiting for him at the end of the day. He knew he should have persisted and said that you weren't right, that he loved you so much that he could take a bullet for you, right on his chest. He'd do anything for you, but didn't seem to know how to put that in words when it comes to a fight.

"Fuck!" He shouted when alone in his office, hands collapsing on the desk. It was past seven at night and he hadn't heard from you. A whole fucking day. He asked Harrison to send the men to look for you. He wouldn't force you coming back home, but he needed to be sure you were alright.

All the bad thoughts he could have were now successfully running through his mind and driving him nuts. He thought that maybe some rival mobster could have laid eyes on you, all by yourself, and tried to do something. You could be in serious danger right now, and Tom wouldn't forgive himself if that was the case.

He took a drink. He needed to clear his mind as time was passing by and his men didn't have any information about you. Your phone would be filled with unanswered calls from him, even voicemail telling you he was sorry and would do anything if you only called him back to say you were doing fine.

"Please, love, if you're listening to it... fuck, I'm so fucking sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I'm a dumbass, and you don't have to forgive me, but, please, just let me know you're fine and I'll give you your time. Just- please. I need to hear from you, y/n", he recorded, a drink on his hand and the other holding his phone firmly.

When it was 9pm, he decided he was going out to look for you himself. He just couldn't sit there waiting for a call or for his men do to something - he needed to take that pressure of his chest and no one was helping.

He took his gun, called Harrison and a few more man before heading to the living room.

"Alright, we have a few more places left" Tom started his instructions, while shoving his gun at the back of his trousers. "Harrison and I are going to her family's house. You two check in her old friend's place. Doesn't matter how far it is, I don't want you two to come back until you've looked through that fucking town-"

"Tom", Harrison cut him off, coughing a bit to get his attention. He was about to snap at him, when he followed his gaze.

And there you were, standing at the door frame in the living room, a confused expression on your face as you tried to understand what was going on in the middle of the room. Usually, Tom never had meetings in any other area than the conference room.

"What's going on?", you asked bluntly, and Tom releases a deep and relieved breath, so audible that you couldn't not take notice of.

"God, you're here", he breathed out, walking towards you in large steps. You were still mad, but also so confused with his reaction that you couldn't stop him from holding you tightly in his arms. "Fuck, darling, where were you?".

Besides his words being a bit harsh, his voice was soft and caring, worried if anything. He didn't let go of you first, kissing the top of your head for a long minute.

Harrison smiled a little seeing the both of you and dismissed the men out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

"Sorry, you don't need to explain", Tom shook his head and pulled away to look at you. His eyes were bloodshot and tired, a dark circle around it. He brushed your cheeks with the pad of his thumb and furrowed. "Are you okay, though?"

"Yeah, I am- but what was going on?", you insisted.

Tom cupped your face on his hands, still not believing that you were there again. "I was so fucking worried. I thought that something was off, you didn't answer any of my messages or calls... I was heading to a drive with my men to look for you".

You blink a few times, startled that Tom was so concerned all this time.

"I was in a hotel room, actually", you chew in your lower lip, kind of ashamed that you put him through such a concern. "Needed to be alone for a time, so I turned my phone off".

Tom pressed his forehead against yours. "It doesn't matter anymore, darling. It was all my fault", his voice was croaky and you felt your heart pounding inside your chest. "I should never have said those things to you-"

"It's alright, Tom-"

"No, it's not", he shook his head. "Cause it was all lies. I do fucking care if you leave me. I wouldn't stand being away from you, my love. You're everything, everything. And you're right, I don't spend much time with you, and it eats me alive, cause that's what makes me happy, being around you. All I ever wanted was to make you happy, sweetheart. I'm so fucking sorry if I haven't shown you how much you mean to me..."

"Shhh, Tom", you closed your eyes, hugging him by the neck and bringing him closer. "It's okay, I know it. I wasn't thinking straight too, I know you don't treat me like that. I was just too pissed, and yeah, I'd like to spend more time together, but it's alright that you don't-"

He cut you by a sweet kiss pressed on your lips, "Nothing is more important for me than you. I was too mad with that thing in the restaurant to say it right away, but I'll try harder. I'm gonna be here with you, no matter what. Work can wait".

You sigh and pull him closer, breathing his comforting scent.

"My lovely girl", Tom sighs and smile a bit. "You scared the hell out of me".

"You deserved it, idiot" you said and he laughed quietly.

"I love you, darling", he stroked your back, hiding his face in the crock of your neck. "Always".

"Love you too, Tommy".

You spent the rest of the night together, having a nice and cozy dinner at home. Tom never smiled wider than that night, and the following others were fulfilled with his promise - there was always time in your day to spend alone with your boyfriend.

*******

Taglist:

@dreamy-clousds

@pinkrockstar19

@onyourgoddamnleft

@spideyspeaches

@miraclesoflove

@hollands-taste

@zspideyy

[adventuresinwonderlust]

hey, could you do something where the reader meets yoon while either they or him are rolling around on the floor of the wolmido ride? 🥺 ty if so!

Title: Wolmido

Pairing: yoongi x reader ft. JK

Warnings: fluff, smut, oral (m) receiving

Rating: 18 and over

Permanent Tag List: @mochilicious-yoongi @heyimtavia

You squealed loudly, jumping up and down, winning the ball toss game. Your friends mouth hanging open in shock. “Hell yeah! That’s my best friend!” She shouts suddenly at the two guys standing next to you, defeated. The one in baby blue pouts, telling his friend that he wants to play again. It’s the one in yellow, however, that you can't take your eyes off. His sweet stoic face, his sharp cat like eyes. You couldn’t stop staring the entire time you stood there playing. When had he noticed you? You wondered to yourself. “Here’s your prize!” The employee says, shoving a stuffed teddy bear at you. You cradle it against your chest, still staring at the handsome man across from you. “Come.” Your friend shouts, snapping you out of your mini staring contest.

You made your way through the crowd of people in the packed Wolmi Theme Park. “Come let's get on the Disco Pang Pang.” Your best friend urges. You cringe at the thought of being spun in circles, your stomach already doing back flips. “Uh, I don’t know about this. I might hurl.” “Don't be a baby. It’ll be fun!” You groan, being pulled along by your very excited friend. You approach the ride, waiting on the line, looking at the people bounce up and down screaming. “Is this supposed to be fun?” You ask aloud. “Yes, you my friend, are just boring.”

You shake your head, moving forward with the group of people ahead of you. “We shouldn’t do this. What if we get hurt?” Your friend sucks her teeth at your assumption, rolling her eyes but not responding. Soon it's your turn and the two of you make your way onto the famous Disco Pang Pang. You take a seat next to each other, tucking your teddy bear between your thighs, you both grasp onto the handlebars behind your head. “This is going to end badly.” You groan over to your friend. “It’s going to be fun. You wait and see.” You watch with unease as the gate to the entrance of the ride slides close and the stairs lift.

The ride begins to move slowly, and you squeal. “Hold on!” Your friend shouts to you. The ride soon taking speed, spinning rapidly clockwise, stopping, and spinning counterclockwise. You slide forward in your seat and attempt to shove yourself back just as the ride begins to hop up and down. You tighten your grip on the grab bars, your sweaty hands betraying you. “I can't hold on!” You shout to your friend. “You got this!” She shouts back. You groan quietly to yourself, the ride jumping quickly and spinning right after, causing your grip to come loose.

You gasp, feeling your butt come up off the seat and flop onto the ground, sliding to the center of the ride. Your stuffed teddy keeps gliding down, your body rolling clockwise with the quick spin of the ride. You can’t help but yelp, trying but failing to reach out to your friend. The ride seems to be moving faster and the faces surrounding you begin to blur. You call out to your friend but are unable to make her out.

Suddenly, you feel someone slam against you. You gasp, reaching for the body that’s pressed against yours. “Come I’ll help you.” The cat eyed man in yellow from the toss game says, reaching for your hand. When did he get on the ride? You wonder, reaching for his hand. He begins to shift on hit bottom towards the left, tugging your hand to follow his pattern. You begin to shift on your bum as well, the both of you making a slow and steady pace. Soon in the distance you see his friend dressed in baby blue, reaching his hand out.

“Oh, thank goodness." You whisper to yellow. His long, large hand reaching desperately for his friend. Their fingertips touch and soon their palms and you take in a deep breath in excitement. “Ahhh!” Yellow shouts, his hand slipping with a quick whip of the ride counter clockwise. The two of you rolling atop each other back to the center of the ride. “Oof.” Your breath escapes you as you land on top of Yellow. “I guess we got too excited.” He chuckles, pulling you close when the ride hops up and down then back around clockwise. “What now?” You ask. He smirks. “We just enjoy the ride.”

You swallow hard when he tucks an arm behind his head, lying flat on his back, allowing the ride to bounce him about. He pulls your body close to his with his free arm, resting it around your waist. “I’m Yoongi by the way.” He shouts, rubbing the exposed flesh of your hip. “Y/N,” you shout back. In that moment, even with your bodies sliding side to side and lifting off the ground, you can't seem to see anything else but each other. It isn't until your respective friends come to collect you both that you even realize, the ride has stopped moving. Your friend tugs you along, away from Yoongi and his friend in blue. You can't help but keep looking back towards him. “Come on Y/N, I'm hungry.” Your friend whines.

You make your way down the steps of the ride when you feel a tap on your shoulder. “We’re headed to the mirror maze. Wanna come with?” Yoongi asks. Your mouth falls open and your friend interjects. “We were just going to grab some food but thanks anyway.” Yoongi smirks, not taking his eyes off you. “I’d love to.” You say without warning. Yoongi nods, reaching out a hand for you to take. “Y/N, I'm hungry.” Your friend whines. “I’m Jungkook and I can eat.” He gives a sweet bunny smile. Your friends eyes light up and tucks her arm into Jungkook's lifted one. He soon swoops her away. “I’ll call you when we’re done.” She waves, walking off. You wave back, turning to fac Yoongi. “Shall we?” He reaches his hand out again. You nod, taking it and allowing him to lead you to the house of mirrors. You both walk around, laughing and pointing at the shapes you make in the mirrors.

“Do you come here often?” You ask. He chuckles. “Not really. I don’t really like rides. They make me sick, but JK loves them, and he really wanted to try the Disco Pang Pang so, here I am.” “AH, I hate rides also as I'm sure you could tell from how quickly I fell of the Disco Pang Pang.” Yoongi laughs. “Yeah, you're really weak huh. I mean you flew off so quick.” “Hey! You fell off too so don’t poke fun.” “Actually, I let go so I could talk to you.” He gives a tight smile, soon looking down. “Wait, what?” “Yeah, “He shrugs, “I wanted to talk to you at the ball toss, but I get shy, so I figured saving the damsel in distress was a better option.” “You’re too adorable.” You whisper. His cheeks flush at your compliment. “No way. Watching you flop around like a scared fish was adorable.” You swat his arm, turning into the mirror maze, jumping at your own reflection.

He chuckles at your reaction, turning quickly and walking into a mirror reflecting the next hallway. “Ha!” You shout, laughing hard at his mistake. “I meant to do that.” He shakes his head in annoyance. “I think it's this way.” You point to the right. He shrugs, waving down the hallway. “After you.” You shake your head, walking down the hallway and into another dead end. “Shit. We’re stuck.” “Seems so. I mean we can just walk backwards.” He notes. “Or we can sit here until we are rescued.” You plop down on the floor, looking up at the handsome man in yellow. “Uh, we could be here for hours.” “My friend would never let me be lost for hours.” “Uh, with JK, she’s already forgotten you exist.” You giggle at the thought. “Well, what do you want to do to pass the time?” “Escape.” He smiles, turning to walk off. “Wait! Don’t leave me!” You shout, hopping up to follow him. You begin to walk back towards the way you came in. “You know this will be the second time I save you today. Which means I get a second date no?” You laugh at his brazenness. “Is that how you think this works?” “Well, I mean, it would be nice.” He pouts. “You’re beautiful you know that,” You note, “I haven't been able to stop staring at you.” He stops walking and looks over at you. “You know, I was thinking the same thing about you.”

Your breath hitches at his words, getting stuck in your throat when you realize he’s leaning in for a kiss. His mouth is soft, warm, inviting. He commands the kiss with ease, starting with gentle pecks and working up to breath taking tongue swirling. You moan into his mouth, digging your hand into the soft locks at the nape of his neck. You wrap your arm around his neck now, deepening the kiss. His hands begin to travel to your lower back until he drops them low, tucking them into your back pockets. You moan again at the feeling of his erection against your thigh, trying to catch your breath when he pulls away. “Sorry,” He whispers, “I’m getting too carried away.” “Not at all.” You whisper back, reaching down to palm him through his jeans. HIs cheeks flush and mouth falls open. “We- we’re in public.” He pants. You look around. “I don’t see a public anywhere. Just stay quiet.” You wink, lowering to your knees before him.

He chuckles nervously. “You don’t have to.” “I know but I want to. You were so brave today.” You bite your lip, unzipping his jeans. “Fuck.” He whispers, looking around again. You release his weeping cock, licking at the dripping tip. “We’re gonna get caught and arrested!” He covers his gaping mouth to keep from squealing, watching you wrap your mouth around his tip. His head drops back but only for a moment, his eyes scattering about the mirrors that surround you. “This is so fucking hot.” He praises, his hand falling into your hair. You suckle gently on his tip, reveling in the hushed moans that leave his lips. You relax your throat, taking his full length to the back of your throat. He whimpers at the feeling, his free hand slapping against one of the mirrors to keep him steady. You bob back and forth along his length effortlessly, picking up your pace, loving the hissing sounds that escape his pout. His grip in your hair tightens and you pull him out of your mouth. “You can guide me if you want.” You look up at him. His lust filled eyes widen and he nods. You smirk, turning your attention back to his reddened length. You bob on his tip first before taking all of him again. He moans out loud this time, his hand tangling in your locks. He wastes no time guiding you along his length, his hips hitching forward to meet your pace.

“This feels so fucking good. I’m not going last much longer.” He warns. You hum around him, and he groans at the feeling, speeding his thrusts in your mouth. You hollow out your mouth, relaxing your throat as much as possible so he can find purchase there. “Uhh, oh wow. I’m gonna cum. This feels so good.” You hum around him again, his thigh tensing. You bob faster, gripping his ass to pull him into your face. “Oh, oh. Fuck!” He shouts, yanking his cock from your throat and turning to spill his seed onto the floor. He jerks his cock slowly, his head falling back, until every drop is spent. You lick your swollen lips, standing now. He tucks himself away, turning and moving into your body for a kiss. “I need to return the favor.” He says with a kiss. Your eyes light up. “I wonder what that would feel like on the Disco Pang Pang?” You giggle. “Shit! You little freak. I don’t have any cash on me, but I’ll gladly hit an ATM to pay the operator off and make your dream come true.” You laugh heartily. “I’m not kidding. Let’s get the hell out of here. I need your legs wrapped around my face and now!” He wiggles his eyebrows, taking your hand to lead you out. “You’re crazy!” You shout. “Crazy about you!” He stops, pulling you into another kiss.

[big1ron]

Shampoo is a luxury item: clone wars shenanigans.

Tup laid across the men’s fresher counter of a space 7/11, or refuelling port. face up with his head in the far sink and a rolled up towel under his neck. his knees bent to fit in the space. He didn’t know if this was going to be a great or terrible idea. That would depend on just how competent Hardcase and Fives were. And Tup realized Hardcase didn’t actually have hair, and Fives’ was pretty short.

“Wait ok so you can’t do this in the sonic why?” Asked Fives again, genuinely curious for the 5th time, inspecting the much too bare-bones instructions on a bottle of shampoo they bought.

“The sonics don’t work with that stuff. You need actual water”

Hardcase was reading the other bottle, conditioner. “Don’t know why you’re making us go through all this trouble anyways. It’s just hair. Doesn’t the sonic wash it good enough?”

“Maybe. But these smell nice and you owe me after abandoning me.”

Hardcase sighs annoyed and slightly guilty. Fives runs the tap and cold water runs right into Tup’s face. Tup tries to sit up quickly but hits his forehead on the tap. Fives pushes his face back down and redirects the slowly warming water away from his face. “Oops. Sorry”

Tup groaned in annoyance and Hardcase sat onto the counter opposite to him, swinging his legs and reading out the instructions on the bottle. “Ok... first rinse the hair, which is what you’re doing now. Then massage in the product and wait 5 minutes before rinsing it out again. That’s what mine says anyways.”

“Shampoo says the exact same thing. So do you use both? Which ones first?” Fives asks semi rhetorically letting water splash back into Tup’s face as he reaches for the other bottle. Tup shields his eyes from the water and sighs annoyed.

“Shampoo first, then conditioner. Use both.”

“Oh. And how much are you supposed to use?” Fives asks, realizing his mistake and redirecting the water from Tup’s face again.

“I don’t know, never used it.”

“Well it’s says 2 in 1 so I assume that means half the bottle?” Hardcase suggests.

Fives turns off the water and pours some of the product onto Tup’s hair, face lighting up at the smell and shine, and again at the foam as he starts to massage it into Tup’s scalp. Hardcase sticks a finger into the foam and tastes it to see if it tastes as nice as it smells.

“Tastes like soap” he says, informing the others of his amazing discovery. That this fancy soap tastes like soap.

Fives chuckles lightly at Hardcase, though surprised at just how much this stuff was expanding. There was more than enough to cover Tup’s entire hair and the bubbles were quickly filling this sink. Hardcase watched with fascination.

“You having fun there?” Fives Asked Tup, who had his eyes closed looking like the very image or relaxation on the countertop of the men’s fresher in a space 7/11, at 23:00 hours local time. Tup hummed in contented confirmation.

“Man I’m kinda jealous” says Hardcase “I almost wish I had hair.”

Fives turns on the tap again to wash out the soap.

A natural born- or civilian togruta male walks in and stops at the entrance. Hardcase waves at him and he just turns around and leaves.

“Huh. Hope that’s not gonna be a problem.” Hardcase thinks aloud.

“What’s gonna be?” Asks Fives as he moves onto the bottle labeled ‘conditioner’, disappointed at how little this product puffs up compared to the other one.

“Someone saw us just now. They looked confused and kinda concerned.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know. Not an employee though. As long as they don’t tell anyone we should be good.” Hardcase dips a finger into the different floral smelling lather, and tastes the conditioner as well. Just in case it’s different. “This one also tastes like soap. They smell different but taste the same!”

“They’re both soap Hardcase. Do you eat every kind of soap you come into contact with?”

“No but these aren’t just soap. They’re hair soap. Maybe they taste different. I don’t know. Well now I do, cause I tasted them but I didn’t know that before I tried them.”

Fives shrugs. “You’re right I guess.” He reaches for the faucet again but Tup stops him.

“You have to let this one sit for five minutes remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Fives looks around for a chrono, but he can’t see anything to tell the time. He remembers seeing one by the cash register in the store. “Hardcase can you go outside and tell us when five minutes passes?”

“Give my five credits.”

“What? No! Why? It’s not even that big a task. Look I’ll do it if I have to I just-“

“It’s to buy us slushies, chill. If I’m out there I may as well.”

“Oh.” Fives produces the credits, as he was the one holding the money for the group. “Mix red and blue to make purple for me”

“And purple for me too” Tup adds.

“Sure, sure.” Hardcase waves them off as he grabs the credits and leaves the fresher, back into the store.

Fives takes Hardcase’s spot as soon as he leaves, swinging his legs idly until he decides to pack up the shampoo and conditioner in the backpack of stuff the group had brought with them. He assumed he wouldn’t need them again, all he had to do was rinse out the conditioner. In five minutes. He set the brush they had brought along with some hair ties onto the counter in preparation.

“Was it worth it?” He asks Tup, quickly growing impatient and ready to see the results.

“It felt really nice when you were washing it but now my neck kinda hurts from holding my head here. And it smells nice so, yeah so far I’d say it was worth it.”

“Cool, cool.” Fives had been having fun too, but he wanted to get on with the next step already. Where was Hardcase with those slushies? Surely five minutes had passed.

Some amount of time passed, which felt like an hour before Hardcase came back in with two purple slushies and one that leaned a bit more into magenta. “I think five minutes is up, I lost count.” He set them down on the countertop.

“Finally! What took you so long?” Fives sprung up, wasting no time turning on the water, not yet interested in his slushie.

“I was browsing to see if there was anything I thought looked more interesting. There wasn’t though. At least nothing in my price range” Hardcase took his spot back as soon as fives vacated it. He watched Fives through the mirror, sipping his magenta slushie through a straw.

Fives was delighted that Tup’s hair now felt silky smooth, even nicer to touch than before. He turned off the water and wrung the hair out before removing the towel from under Tup’s head and shoddily wrapping his hair with it.

Tup sat up cross legged on the counter and stretched, yawning. He turned to face the mirror and pulled off the towel. His face lit up as he saw his still wet hair, much shinier than he’d ever seen it. And it was soft to touch too! He ran his hands through it.

“I think it was worth it” he said happily. “It feels so nice!”

“Want me to brush it?” Fives asked, though he wasn’t really offering a favour, more asking one.

“Sure” Tup slid off the counter

“Wait I want to do it! Can I?” Hardcase interjected. Fives scowled at him. But Tup said it was more fair Hardcase got to do it, because Fives dis the entire washing. Fives drank his slushie dejectedly as Hardcase claimed Fives’ own prize.

Tup also insisted on them leaving with a shopping car because it was “just that easy” and riding in it because he “was too pretty to walk now.” Fives had pretended to be annoyed but he didn’t mind it. And it gave him somewhere to set his drink as they started the long walk back to base.

By the time they got back, some other troopers were also just returning from 79s. It’s was the early hours of the morning now, and the group had felt they spent the night well. Fives had regretted having to turn down their offer to go drinking earlier that evening, as Tup had forced him to come do this. But now? He bet he had had just as fun a time. And definitely a more memorable one.

[hexalene]

What's your wildest cruise ship story?

Oh shit I meant to post this sooner whoops

Uh

I have less “ONE BIG THING” stories and more of like, a series of surreal Events that happened to me over the course of the years and years I went on cruises (my family could go on cruises for free, so we abused the shit out of that for reunions and vacations for a long time)

So here’s a few of those, and I SWEAR TO GOD they’re real, and I might have photos buried somewhere to prove some of them, but idk, that’s like effort.

-I loved wandering around ships super super early in the morning. Like, crack of dawn early. I’d usually go hang out on one of the open floor restaurant areas around the middle of the ship, which had built in window seats you could curl up in. Pillows n shit too. Super comfy. I’d draw and listen to music, ect. One morning, I looked up and saw the Black fucking Pearl from Pirates of the Caribbean sailing by. Did not believe my eyes. It and four other ships, two of which were for non-pirate movies, were being sailed into a bay on the island we were headed to. I did manage to get a distant shot of it when I got on land.

-In 2006 (date relevant) I met two men in two different families, who were not related and had never met, named Tony Stark. As this was before the movie came out, I was left tragically alone with no one to be awed at this strange coincidence with me. One of them was even a dark haired man with a nice goatee.

(The other was a cute chubby grandpa type)

-Given the opportunity to demonstrate how corporations rig the system against the consumer, my father brought me down to the casino level and sat down across from a very fancy claw machine that dispensed iPads and other expensive tech prizes. He told me, “some people will win, and I’ll tell you when they will.”

I was like “okay dad sure” but we sat there for HOURS, and dad would say “okay, this guy will win if he goes for this prize” or “this guy will lose” and finally, “that woman will win an iPad.” Of course, most were losers, but he was DEAD ON every time someone would win. After a while he explained that the machine would only dispense prizes after collecting the money to pay for two more of whatever was won. He’d just sat there and done the math on the people playing the game and when it added up, he’d wait to see what they went for and let me know if they won. It had absolutely nothing to do with skill.

To make his point, he waited, counting out loud the money being put in, before standing up and slapping the button randomly on one of the lower rank prizes. He won an otter box phone case and told me that no one will ever give you the chance to win out at a loss to themselves, so don’t make a bet unless you’ve rigged the game to win. I was 14.

-uhhh what else

-The dance troupe arranged to do shows suffered a tragic undisclosed accident, so the short term bullshit to entertain people in the theatre was an honest to god passenger led talent show. Surreal on its own, but one of the passengers was a contortionist, and ran off to get their suitcase.

Now, they did a lot of fun bendy stuff, very weird, very cool, but they asked for volunteers at one point. I, my sister, our cousin, and two other kids were asked to come on stage. I was the oldest, maybe 12/13ish, my sister and cousin were 9, and the other two kids were between 6-9.

This MADMAN, without straining any of us to bend in any weird or uncomfortable way, managed to fit all five of us into his empty suitcase. I was in the damn thing and I have no idea how he managed it. He then zipped us all up inside and walked around the stage a bit. And it was fine, like not uncomfortable or hard to breath or anything!

I remember getting out of the suitcase clearest of all. We’d all been fit inside so snugly, in this order:

Me, stranger kid 1, cousin, sister, and stranger kid 2. To get us out, he lay the case flat and lifted my sister up. Somehow this like??? Was like those monkey in a barrel toys, we all just neatly unfolded with her, no tripping or falling or anything. That feeling, where one moment I’m staring at my cousins’ feet and some other kid’s elbow, and then I see the dude lift my sister and then all of us just RISE WITH IT and unfold like a flower blooming I have no idea if this makes any sense at all but it felt magical.

- Something bad happened back home, but we didn’t know what. My dad had a business meeting but mom wanted to see the beach. We got off the ship, and like, HARDCORE struggled to find a way to get to a beach, any beach. We were in....Mexico, somewhere in the neighborhood of Chichén Itzá, maybe an island nearby I think? There were some massive ruins somewhere, I remember that much.

While mom hunted down a beach, my siblings and I sat under a giant box fan, near a TV. Something was happening, the employees were changing the channel, trying to find the clearest signal to the American news. I remember looking over at the grainy footage being interrupted by commercials and other signals and piecing together through the static and the employee trying to translate that back home, the 2008 financial crash was happening and that mom’s insistence that we find a beach and have fun was because that business meeting dad had stayed behind to deal with was him trying to make sure we’d still have a house to live in when we got back to the states, and she didn’t know if this would be the last truly carefree time we had before we went home to face the music.

-However, mom’s eternal struggles to find a beach didn’t begin in 2008. The previous trip we’d taken had another Beach Adventure.

That time, it was also just mom and the siblings. I don’t remember why dad was staying behind, maybe a poker tournament or something?

We disembarked and the struggle began. Nothing was in English, other than the scant few signs the cruise ship put out to guide passengers off the docks. However, THIS was not a problem, as I was about as fluent in Spanish as a third grader restricted to the present tense, and this worked well enough to get us around.

There was a massive bus to a beach, just PACKED to the gills with Americans. As we waited in line, a nondescript man came up to us, and said, “that bus will go to a very crowded beach with many other passengers of other ships. I know a better beach, and cheap! I’ll charge only half of what that bus will charge you and my beach is much much nicer!”

You might be thinking that common sense would tell us not to get in a random unmarked car with an un-uniformed man offering an amazing half off deal to a perfect isolated beach in broken English on a largely rural island, wouldn’t you? You’d be wrong.

My mother is a sweet devout catholic lady with a hidden core of raw chaos. Her idea of a nice day out in the snow with her tiny children was to strap us in the back, drive to the massive Schnuck’s parking lot, gun it up to 90mph, and hydroplane/drift like a fucking drag racer across the ice, laughing. Common sense does not exist in any normal capacity in this woman.

We spent an incredibly tense, silent, 45 minutes driving into the wilderness packed into a tiny car with no AC, sweating with heat and nerves as he drove us out in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly the driver pulls over. There is literally nothing but trees and cliffs for miles and miles. Mom is clutching my hand, my baby brother, and her knitting needles. The driver runs quickly to the center of the road, leans over, and picks up a huge tortoise that had frozen up when his car approached. He carried it over to the grass, and pat it goodbye.

Before he comes back Mom turns and looks at me and says, “a serial killer probably wouldn’t save a turtle, I think we’ll be okay.”

[richincolor]

New Releases for the Week of April 5th

We have six titles on our release calendar for this week. There is quite a variety with fantasy, sci-fi, contemporary romance, and even nonfiction represented. Are any of them on your TBR?

The Cost of Knowing by Brittany Morris Simon Schuster Books for Young Readers

Sixteen-year-old Alex Rufus is trying his best. He tries to be the best employee he can be at the local ice cream shop; the best boyfriend he can be to his amazing girlfriend, Talia; the best protector he can be over his little brother, Isaiah. But as much as Alex tries, he often comes up short.

It’s hard to for him to be present when every time he touches an object or person, Alex sees into its future. When he touches a scoop, he has a vision of him using it to scoop ice cream. When he touches his car, he sees it years from now, totaled and underwater. When he touches Talia, he sees them at the precipice of breaking up, and that terrifies him. Alex feels these visions are a curse, distracting him, making him anxious and unable to live an ordinary life.

And when Alex touches a photo that gives him a vision of his brother’s imminent death, everything changes.

With Alex now in a race against time, death, and circumstances, he and Isaiah must grapple with their past, their future, and what it means to be a young Black man in America in the present. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Somewhere Between Bitter and Sweet Laekan Zea Kemp Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

As an aspiring pastry chef, Penelope Prado has always dreamed of opening her own pastelería next to her father’s restaurant, Nacho’s Tacos. But her mom and dad have different plans — leaving Pen to choose between disappointing her traditional Mexican-American parents or following her own path. When she confesses a secret she’s been keeping, her world is sent into a tailspin. But then she meets a cute new hire at Nacho’s who sees through her hard exterior and asks the questions she’s been too afraid to ask herself.

Xander Amaro has been searching for home since he was a little boy. For him, a job at Nacho’s is an opportunity for just that — a chance at a normal life, to settle in at his abuelo’s, and to find the father who left him behind. But when both the restaurant and Xander’s immigrant status are threatened, he will do whatever it takes to protect his new found family and himself.

Together, Pen and Xander must navigate first love and discovering where they belong — both within their families and their fiercely loyal Chicanx community — in order to save the place they all call home. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

The Infinity Courts (The Infinity Courts #1) by Akemi Dawn Bowman Simon Pulse

Eighteen-year-old Nami Miyamoto is certain her life is just beginning. She has a great family, just graduated high school, and is on her way to a party where her entire class is waiting for her—including, most importantly, the boy she’s been in love with for years.

The only problem? She’s murdered before she gets there.

When Nami wakes up, she learns she’s in a place called Infinity, where human consciousness goes when physical bodies die. She quickly discovers that Ophelia, a virtual assistant widely used by humans on Earth, has taken over the afterlife and is now posing as a queen, forcing humans into servitude the way she’d been forced to serve in the real world. Even worse, Ophelia is inching closer and closer to accomplishing her grand plans of eradicating human existence once and for all.

As Nami works with a team of rebels to bring down Ophelia and save the humans under her imprisonment, she is forced to reckon with her past, her future, and what it is that truly makes us human. From award-winning author Akemi Dawn Bowman comes an incisive, action-packed tale that explores big questions about technology, grief, love, and humanity.  — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Zara Hossain is Here by Sabina Khan Scholastic Press

Seventeen-year-old Pakistani immigrant, Zara Hossain, has been leading a fairly typical life in Corpus Christi, Texas, since her family moved there for her father to work as a pediatrician. While dealing with the Islamophobia that she faces at school, Zara has to lay low, trying not to stir up any trouble and jeopardize their family’s dependent visa status while they await their green card approval, which has been in process for almost nine years.

But one day her tormentor, star football player Tyler Benson, takes things too far, leaving a threatening note in her locker, and gets suspended. As an act of revenge against her for speaking out, Tyler and his friends vandalize Zara’s house with racist graffiti, leading to a violent crime that puts Zara’s entire future at risk. Now she must pay the ultimate price and choose between fighting to stay in the only place she’s ever called home or losing the life she loves and everyone in it.

From the author of the “heart-wrenching yet hopeful” (Samira Ahmed) novel, The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali, comes a timely, intimate look at what it means to be an immigrant in America today, and the endurance of hope and faith in the face of hate. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Oculta (A Forgery of Magic #2) by Maya Motayne Balzer + Bray

After joining forces to save Castallan from an ancient magical evil, Alfie and Finn haven’t seen each other in months. Alfie is finally stepping up to his role as heir and preparing for an International Peace Summit, while Finn is travelling and revelling in her newfound freedom from Ignacio.

That is, until she’s unexpectedly installed as the new leader of one of Castallan’s powerful crime families. Now one of the four Thief Lords of Castallan, she’s forced to preside over the illegal underground Oculta competition, which coincides with the summit and boasts a legendary prize.

Just when Finn finds herself back in San Cristobal, Alfie’s plans are also derailed. Los Toros, the mysterious syndicate responsible for his brother’s murder, has resurfaced—and their newest target is the summit. And when these events all unexpectedly converge, Finn and Alfie are once again forced to work together to follow the assassins’ trail and preserve Castallan’s hopes for peace with Englass.

But will they be able to stop these sinister foes before a new war threatens their kingdom? — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Everything You Wanted to Know About Indians But Were Afraid to Ask: Young Readers Edition by Anton Treuer Levine Querido

From the acclaimed Ojibwe author and professor Anton Treuer comes an essential book of questions and answers for Native and non-Native young readers alike. Ranging from “Why is there such a fuss about nonnative people wearing Indian costumes for Halloween?” to “Why is it called a ‘traditional Indian fry bread taco’?” to “What’s it like for natives who don’t look native?” to “Why are Indians so often imagined rather than understood?”, and beyond, Everything You Wanted to Know About Indians But Were Afraid to Ask (Young Readers Edition) does exactly what its title says for young readers, in a style consistently thoughtful, personal, and engaging.

Updated and expanded to include:

• Dozens of New Questions and New Sections—including a social activism section that explores the Dakota Access Pipeline, racism, identity, politics, and more! • Over 50 new Photos • Adapted text for broad appeal — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

[alolowrites]

The Helpful Elf

Summary: The Hippity Hop Cat toy is the toy on every kid’s wish list this year, including Eri’s. With the toy flying off the shelves, you desperately ask Mirio, the Helper Elf at Hazuki’s ToyLand, for help. And Mirio doesn’t give up, especially when it comes to you.

Author’s Note: Hello everyone!!! Real life is being a pain right now, but I’m so glad I managed to finish this story right on time! It’s pretty long (for me lol) and it’s my first with Mirio so yay!! I also wrote it for the BNHASanctuary discord server’s winter collab (first time I ever participated in any collab), so I’m very excited about this. I’ll link and share the masterlist once it’s up. I can’t wait to read everyone else’s stories :D 

Please enjoy!

Word Count: 2.5K+

With October long gone and December in full swing, it meant one thing—the official start of the jubilant holiday season. Every year, Japan’s most iconic department store in Tokyo, Hazuki’s, transformed its ten floors into a magical winter wonderland. Around the country and around the globe, customers ushered through the doors to catch a glimpse of the glamorous store glittering with festive decor. 

Dazzling lights twinkled around the window displays that stretched around the block. Vibrant ornaments hung high above the ceilings like luxurious bubbles. And pine garlands peppered with red berries wrapped themselves along any rails that ran off forever. 

Hazuki’s was the place to kick start the holiday season and the one place to find everything and anything on one’s holiday shopping list. Especially the highly coveted toy of the year—the Hippity Hop Cat. 

Or so you thought. 

“Mirio!” 

“Huh?” Said man’s elf hat jingled when he looked away from his display. His blue eyes beamed at the sight of you. Mirio chirped out your name as you rushed forward, nearly knocking him over. “Whoa, you alright?” 

“I need your help,” you blurted out, catching your breath at the same time; those pesky escalators were no use at all. Mirio offered to get water, but you waved him off. “No, no…no time for water. I need your help. It’s urgent!” 

“Uh, sure, what can I do?” 

“I need a toy, but not just any toy.” Mirio blinked when you suddenly inched closer to him. You scanned the area as though someone was lurking around to eavesdrop on your top-secret conversation. “It’s the Hippity Hop Cat, you know—” 

“The cat whose hops are out of this world?” 

“Yes, that one!” You clung to his shoulders like a desperate parent trying to find some shred of sanity in this chaotic store. Shaking the blonde man, you begged, “Please tell me you have one in stock?”

“Oh man,” Mirio scratched his forehead as he recalled the inventory from this morning. He glanced at your hopeless eyes and tight fists curling on his work uniform. There was no way Mirio could leave you hanging like this; it didn’t feel right. So he flashed you his famous smile that outshone the star twirling above you both. “Come with me. I’ll check in our system.”

“Gosh, you’re a lifesaver.” 

Mirio humbly rubbed his neck as he led the way to the backroom. You eyed the uproarious floor covered with thousands of toys that rivaled Santa’s Workshop in the North Pole. It was like walking through a child’s dream. Every toy imaginable—dolls, electric cars, robots, board games, you name it—was here. Hopefully, that stayed true with the Hippity Hop Cat. 

The door closed, muffling the sounds of frantic parents buzzing through the aisle. Mirio typed away on the keyboard as you paced behind him. You cursed yourself for procrastinating this long to buy the prized toy. Christmas was in less than two weeks!

“So who’s the gift for?” 

“Oh!” His deep voice pulled you back to the present. You walked forward with folded arms, anxiously hugging yourself. “It’s for Eri, a sweet little girl my next-door neighbor, Shouta, adopted earlier this year. She had a rough upbringing, but fortunately, she’s living with someone who cares for her deeply.” 

“I’m glad to hear that.” 

“Yeah,” you smiled softly at Mirio, making his fingers freeze above the keyboard. That smile of yours took his breath away; he nodded but secretly tried controlling his heart that beat like a bass drum. It was difficult since you were so close to him. “This will be Eri’s first Christmas, and she wants the Hippity Hop Cat; I told Shouta I would buy it for her, helping ease some pressure off his shoulders.”

“That’s really thoughtful of you.” Mirio admired everything about you. He was absolutely smitten with you ever since you started working in the perfume department. Mirio sometimes strolled through the floor during his breaks just to catch a glimpse of you. After scrolling through the computer, the blonde man frowned. “Hmm…looks like we’re out of stock. And the next shipment won’t come until the twenty-first.” 

You groaned. “Man, that’s cutting it close; you think you can hold one for me? I can buy it during my break or after work.” 

“I’ll try my best.”

“Thanks, Mirio.” You squeezed his shoulder, and he shuddered at the touch. Glancing at your watch, you said, “I gotta go before Nemuri wonders where I am. But thanks for helping out!” 

“Sure!” He saw you slip out the door in a hurry; you throw an apologetic smile for good measure. Pushing the elf hat further up, Mirio chuckled, “No problem.”

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Okay, so maybe there was a slight problem.

Santa Claus was still around town, and Mirio was placed on “elf duty” to help out with the pictures. Don’t get him wrong, the sunshine man adored children as much as the jolly old man who lived in the North Pole. However, Mirio realized he couldn’t guard the Hippity Hop Cat for you. All he could do was pray that one miraculously stayed on the shelf until you bought it. 

A flash went off, snapping Mirio back to his job. He smiled brightly, guiding the kid off Santa’s lap and ushering the next one to the chair. Nearly every parent in Japan was here today, the line looping around the store. Other customers, not visiting Santa, shopped as well, making the place extra crowded today. Yet, none of them were you, and that worried Mirio. 

“Ho, ho, ho, it was nice meeting you, sweetie!” 

Oh right! Mirio needed to focus, but it was hard knowing you weren’t here yet. All Mirio wanted to do was make people happy, especially you. After the sweet story you shared with him, he was more determined than ever to get you that toy. His blue eyes glanced at the bearded man in the red coat—could he help? Who knows. 

As Mirio waved goodbye to each kid, you stumbled off the escalator, face flushed as though you ran fifty flights of stairs. You glanced around the packed floor, dodging an airplane that whizzed by and brushing against the sea of customers to find Mirio. The blonde elf locked eyes with you and flashed a relieved grin; the grueling wait was over. 

And so was his duty with Santa Claus, what luck! Mirio marched over to you, placing a gentle hand on your back and guiding you to the aisle. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.” 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, narrowly avoiding getting hit by a robot’s arm. “The perfume department was swamped with tourists and other people. I practically had to beg Nemuri to let me slip away for a few minutes so I could buy—” Turning the corner, you gasped in disbelief at the empty shelves before choking out, “—the toy.”

Mirio blew a low whistle; people were snatching these toys off the shelves like no tomorrow. Still, he wouldn’t give up just yet. “C’mon, maybe there’s some left in stock.” 

“You sure?” 

“Can’t hurt to try, right?” Mirio flashed you a boyish smile, blue eyes brimming with determination. You nodded and followed him through the elaborate maze of this chaotic toy store. 

However, just as you both passed by the cash register, someone bellowed out: “That’s the last Hippity Hop Cat, sir. Thank you for shopping at Toyland; have a nice day!” 

No! You screeched to a halt. Your eyes watched as the man grabbed his bag and left the store with an exhausted but relieved face. Without thinking, you slammed against the counter, scaring the young green-haired employee who clutched his uniform. Leaning forward, you desperately half-whispered, “Please tell me what you said wasn’t true!” 

“I-I’m sorry?”

“The toy!” You frantically gestured to the exit, the man now long gone. “Please tell me you have another Hippity Hop Cat for sale!” 

“U-Um, I, uhh, well,” Midoriya stammered until his eyes spotted a familiar face behind you. The nervous man sighed in relief, knowing he was saved. “Mirio!”

“Hey, Izuku, sorry about that,” Mirio bashfully chuckled and clasped your shoulder to calm you down. The blonde man quickly introduced you to his co-worker, adding, “They’re trying to buy the Hippity Hop Cat, but are you sure that was the last one in stock?” 

“Yeah, it was. I’m sorry.” 

“Oh…oh, okay…” Your shoulders drooped like a sad puppy; you were too late. After saying a quick apology, you numbly dragged your feet toward the exit as a gray cloud formed over your head. A warm hand stopped you from going any further, and you blinked up. “Huh, Mirio, what’s wrong?”

“You alright?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” you dismissed his concerns, but he wasn’t convinced; your eyes told a different story. Still, you mustered a brave face with a faint smile. “Listen, I appreciate everything you did. I knew it was a longshot getting the toy, so don’t sweat it, really.”  

“I know, I just,” he sucked in a breath, “I just wished I could have helped you out more. Especially since you wanted to make Eri happy.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get her something else.” You squeezed his bicep when Mirio opened his mouth to interject; he faltered slightly at the brief touch. “It’s fine, really. I’m sure Eri will love any toy for her gift; I promise.” 

Mirio nodded, watching you leave the store and disappearing within the crowd. You said everything was fine, but he knew that wasn’t true. That fake smile of yours spoke volumes. There has to be a way to get that toy, Mirio pondered, rubbing his chin and staring at the floor with furrowed eyes. 

Suddenly, an idea popped inside his head just as a jingle bell chimed behind him. A white smile stretched across Mirio’s face. The idea was crazy, maybe a longshot, too, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Mirio whipped out his phone and searched through his contacts until he landed on a specific name. 

The line started ringing...and ringing...and ringing when—

“H-Hi, Mirio.”

“Hey, Tamaki!” The blonde man beamed like the sun. He lowered his voice, cupping the phone for secrecy while walking away. “Listen, buddy. I know you’re busy and all, but I got a huge favor to ask…” 

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“…you think you can do it?” A small puff of breath floated out of your lips as you stepped away from the revolving doors. You stood beside a colorful window display of tiny elves grinning from ear to ear, their eager hands holding toys for the good boys and girls. One elf balanced himself at the tippy top of Santa’s mountainous red bag, his green gloves clutching the pointy hat for dear life. 

You smiled, appreciating the creative design before saying, “I can close the following week...yeah...okay, awesome, thanks again!”

Crisis one averted. Crisis two was up for debate, mainly because you held a shopping bag with Eri’s gift. It wasn’t the Hippity Hop Cat, but a nice small plushy cat toy instead. You bought it just a few minutes ago after wandering through the aisles at Toyland. The plushy cat toy wasn’t a bad second choice; it was adorable and incredibly soft to the touch. But it wasn’t the toy you wanted to give for Eri’s first Christmas. 

Oh, well, you sadly thought, biting the inside of your cheek. You stared at the elves again, realizing that their costumes matched Mirio’s work uniform in Toyland, down to the funny little hat. Mirio somehow pulled it off well thanks to his bubbly personality and warm heart that could melt the North Pole's snow. 

At one point, you wondered if Mirio was even there since you didn’t see him at the store today. You assumed he was doing inventory, but Midoriya said Mirio took the day off after a last-minute “personal obligation” came up, and it was too important to ignore. Must have been serious, you sighed as the shopping bag rustled against the wind. 

You braced your coat, hissing as the cold air sliced across your cheeks. Yup, it was time to go unless you wanted to freeze out here. Shuffling away from the window display, you stopped when someone screamed your name. Glancing over, you saw Mirio running toward you with one arm waving high in the air. 

“Hey!” Mirio finally caught up to you, his face flushed and nose redder than Rudolph’s, yet he kept on smiling. “So glad I found you!” 

“Whoa, you alright?” Now it was your turn to be concerned, just like he was when you rushed into the store to ask about the Hippity Hop Cat toy. Mirio nodded enthusiastically, squashing your worries away. “Midoriya said you were busy with a ‘personal obligation’ today. Is everything okay?” 

“Oh yeah, everything is great!”

“Well, that’s, um, great.”

“So, listen, about the Hippity Hop Cat toy—” 

“Mirio, I told you not to worry about it,” you butted in, shaking your shopping bag with the plushy cat. “I went ahead and bought something else for Eri and—”

“Ta-da!” 

You went radio silent, staring in disbelief at the surprise. Sitting in Mirio’s hands was the one and only Hippity Hop Cat toy. The number one toy that was on every kid’s wish list, yet rarer to get than Willy Wonka’s Golden ticket. That toy was now only a few inches away from you. 

“B-But how?!” The words finally fumbled through your lips, flickering your gaze between the toy and Mirio while stumbling forward a bit. “It’s sold out everywhere!” 

“Let’s just say I pulled some strings with Santa’s workshop,” Mirio cheekily grinned like one of the elves from the window display. You choked out a laugh, dropping the shopping bag so you could hold the boxed toy; it felt wonderful in your hands.

You looked up with eyes softer than freshly fallen snow. Mirio continued talking up a storm, his arms flailing wildly like an excited kid who discovered something new. The delicate holiday lights flickered around you both, casting a lovely glow that was as bright as the joy twinkling inside Mirio’s eyes. 

They were always so welcoming that, without thinking, you gave him a crushing hug. Mirio froze, his arms hanging mid-air as he slowly processed what was happening. After a few seconds, his shoulders relaxed, and his strong arms eagerly wrapped around you, holding you in place. Even with that thick coat of yours, you felt very soft that his heart soared to new heights. 

“Thank you, Mirio,” you whispered near his ear, giving him another squeeze. But you didn’t stop there. A sudden urge came over you, and in a bold move, you planted a sweet kiss on his cheek. Pulling away, you bit back a laugh at his flustered face. “You really are the best Helpful Elf I know.” 

“Well, you know me,” he shot you a grin, “I’m always here to help.” 

“Is that so?” You tapped your cheek with your gloved finger. “Think you can help me gift wrap this toy, say tonight at my place?” 

“Luckily for you, I’m a whiz with wrapping paper.” 

Mirio’s hand wormed its way into yours, giving you a loving squeeze before joining you on your long walk home. The Hippity Hop Cat toy was the toy on every kid’s wish list this year, including Eri’s, whose first Christmas was officially saved. And it was all thanks to Mirio, the one and only Helpful Elf at Hazuki’s Toyland.

Thank you for reading!!

FicMas Fest 2020 Masterlist

[beatlesdumpsterfire]

For @pushmipulluridesagain's prompt:

The Beatles go to Target

Brian should have known better than to give the boys the day off, completely unsupervised. Even John, Paul, George, and Ringo were shocked. In fact, they were so shocked that they couldn’t think of a single thing to do to fully take advantage of Brian’s huge mistake.

So, they found themselves in the sitting room of George’s flat, staring around at each other with blank looks plastered across their faces. Finally, John was the one to break the silence with a suggestion:

“Why don’t we go to Target?”

It wasn’t the most exciting option out there, but it sure was something, and it was a lot better than sitting around like their wax figures at Madame Tussauds. None of the other boys had any better ideas to offer, so that was that. Before Brian could change his mind, they all piled into George’s car and sped off to their local Target.

“Are we looking for anything specific?” Paul asked the car. Ringo turned around from the passenger seat and grinned back at Paul.

“It doesn’t matter if there’s something specific we’re looking for, we’re bound to walk out with a cart full of things we didn’t even know we needed.”

“I once went to Target looking for a screwdriver and I came out with an inflatable lawn decoration,” George mused. “I don’t think I’ve even taken it out of the box though.”

“There’s something about Target, it just sucks you dry,” Paul thought aloud. He paused for a second and quickly turned to John, who was obviously on the verge of making a bad joke. “Don’t you dare say it,” Paul warned him.

John luckily listened, which saved him from a hefty slap from Paul, and instead shared some wisdom he had picked up from a TikTok he saw the other day.

“You know, I heard somewhere that you can steal a certain amount of stuff from Target and they won’t stop you. They keep track of what you take, but they’ll only pull the authorities in when you’ve surpassed a certain dollar amount of stolen goods. It’s so they can charge it as a serious felony, I think.”

“Huh,” Ringo thought aloud. “So I could steal just under that amount and waltz out of the store?”

“I doubt it’s that black and white,” Paul interjected. “If they catch you taking something, they’re bound to stop you, right?”

“Why don’t we test it, lads?” John grinned. Paul let out a groan; he should have seen where that conversation was going. He had been a fool to assume they were going to take an innocent trip to Target.

“I’m game,” George said from behind the steering wheel. “We were bound to do something stupid today, I’m glad we figured out what that was.”

“Sounds like fun,” Ringo chirped happily. “I’ve never stolen anything before.”

“You haven’t either, have you, Paul?” John teased Paul.

“I have too,” Paul murmured. He had pocketed a single bean from the grocery store when he was 5 and, while his mom made him return the bean to one of the employees working there, he still felt it counted.

John could see straight through Paul’s fib, but he was confident that his mate would participate, as much as he acted like he was against it. Knowing that they were all on board to rob a Target got John feeling especially energized: he couldn’t wait to kick capitalism in the shins.

“Let’s make a competition out of it, Lads,” he announced, clapping his hands together. “30 minutes on the clock, whoever comes out with the most impressive collection of items wins.”

“What’s the prize?” George asked.

“Bragging rights,” John decided. None of the other boys were especially happy about that but, considering they were going to rob a store, they were all already kind of winning something in a sense.

“And one last thing,” John added, “if you get caught, you’ll be disqualified.”

“That’s straight-forward enough to me,” George nodded as he turned into the Target parking lot. “We’ll meet back at the car once our 30 minutes is up then?”

“Yeah,” John said.

“You’re going to get your asses handed to you!” Ringo cackled, unbuckling his seatbelt and rushing into the store before anyone could even set a timer. Paul, John, and George all exchanged tired glances; they knew Ringo was about to do something stupid.

And, of course, they were right. Ringo tore into the Target, the bell dinging above his head as he scanned around the store, his heart beating up into his throat with a wild look in his eyes. He needed to prove to his mates that he could be the best thief out there, one that was bound to earn their utmost respect. Ringo hadn’t really listened to the rules all that much, but he felt that he got the overall gist of the competition: he just had to take the biggest and most impressive thing and not get caught. That was a piece of cake because he, Ringo Starr, was the Master of Deception.

Ringo sprinted for the electronics department, nearly taking out an older gentleman and a mannequin in the process. The mannequin slowly toppled over, flattening the older gentleman behind Ringo, giving him the most action he had received in well over 50 years.

“Ooh!” the older man squealed.

Ringo made it to the section with the really big televisions and felt his pupils dilate tenfold.

“Yes,” he breathed out. Sure, there were three Target employees on the floor nearby, but Ringo was the Master of Deception. He had this in the bag. He managed to slow his breathing down to a pace that didn’t make him look like a rabid animal, and sauntered to the biggest TV in the store. Ringo looked it up and down and then smiled. He was gonna win this thing so hard. He looked to the left, making direct eye contact with one of the employees, and then looked to the right, making direct eye contact with the other employee, and then turned back to the TV. And, in one big grunt, he dislodged the TV from the wall and proceeded to shove it down his pants.

Both employees probably would have made more of an effort to stop him if they hadn’t been so thrown off guard by the fact that he had just put an 80 inch TV down his rear. It was a mystery how he was able to fit that screen in there, but somehow he did it.

Well, Ringo was the Master of Deception after all, I guess he was just doing what he did best.

While the TV was semi-concealed, the latter half of it stuck out of the seat of Ringo’s pants and rose well-above his head, so there was no denying what he was doing. Ringo had grossly miscalculated how heavy the TV was going to be; he was obviously struggling as he attempted to shuffle his way to the front doors. The two employees who had just witnessed this entire shit show exchanged an uncertain glance and shrugged their shoulders. They weren’t paid enough to deal with shit like that. Let the weirdo shove a TV down his pants if he wanted to.

Somehow, by some miracle, Ringo managed to make it to the front doors without being stopped (although he did attract a lot of strange looks). It was only when the metal detectors started to blare through the store that Ringo was surrounded by seven employees, two of which body slammed him to the ground. In a matter of seconds, the TV was removed from his pants and Ringo was sitting against the Starbucks counter by the front door with his arms shackled behind his back, moping not only because he had been eliminated from the competition and arrested, but also because he could no longer confidently say that he was the Master of Deception.

After Ringo powered into the store, Paul, George, and John synced their watches and agreed to meet back in the parking lot to determine the winner (they already knew that Ringo was going to be disqualified, it was only a matter of time before they found out exactly what he had done to eliminate himself).

George was the second to enter the store behind Ringo. As if he was going on any old Target run, George casually strolled through the front doors and made his way directly to the food section. The second John had initially mentioned theft, George’s stomach growled since it had officially been 20 minutes since his last meal. From that second onwards, George could only think about one thing and one thing only: filling the apparent goddamn void in his stomach.

So, in that food aisle, George went to town, carefully packing his shopping cart to the brim with crackers, cookies, sandwich-making materials, and lots and lots of candy. Satisfied with his load, he retreated to the back of the store where he very quickly found the employee break room and settled there, seated eagerly in front of his stuffed cart. A few employees filed in and out of the room as George worked away at his feast, but none of them bothered to stop him because they could care less. This was just an average day at Target: some guy had shoved a TV down his pants a few minutes ago, so George’s spectacle wasn’t even the worst thing they’d seen all day.

In ten minutes, George had consumed well over 50,000 calories and patted his extended stomach with content before letting out a belch that rattled the whole establishment for well-over 10 seconds.

Across the store in the women’s lingerie section, Paul snapped his head up from a rack of nice bras and scanned around in a panic. When he realized that the shaking wasn’t coming from an angry guard storming up to him, Paul’s shoulders relaxed and he returned back to sifting through the silk fabric, trying to find the flashiest bra available.

George collected all of his empty packages and started to shove them into a plastic Target bag that had been discarded in the breakroom so he had evidence of just how many things he had stolen that were now sitting in the bottom of his stomach. But, George wasn’t going to stop there; as impressive as his feat was, he knew that he was up against some tough competition (aka John, Paul didn’t count), so he really had to step up his game.

As he scanned around the store trying to find something good to snag, it occurred to George that he was wearing a red shirt and a pair of khakis (he was long overdue to do his laundry). He was basically an employee at Target, so George knew that he really could take things the extra mile. And oh boy, did he. He approached a cash register where there was an apron and an employee’s scanner sitting loosely around and tugged the apron over his head, adding the scanner to one of his front pockets. To be an incredibly huge nuisance, George went out of his way to unscrew the credit card reader (with his Target screwdriver, of course) and packed that into his apron as well. He checked his phone and, when he saw he had two minutes to spare, he decided that he had had his fun, and returned to the parking lot.

For Paul, when he first entered the store, he was a nervous wreck. Since the bean incident, he had vowed to never do a wrong thing ever again in his life. But, deep down, he knew that he would much rather become a criminal than let down his mates. He especially didn’t want to see the look of disappointment on John’s face if he came back empty-handed; that just wasn’t acceptable.

So, he decided to go the conservative route and start off small. After sneaking a pack of Trident Layers into his coat pocket without so much as a blink of an eye from those in the vicinity, Paul felt his heart rate slow. It was okay, this was fine, he totally had this. So, from there, Paul started to get more of a feel for the sticky fingers, sliding a pack of soap up his sleeve and a daily planner down his shirt. Now he was really feeling the groove of things, so he boldly made his way to the gift card section and grabbed a $20 Applebee's gift card. He was really going wild now. He was yet to face any consequences for his actions, so he booked it to the best part of Target: the electronic section, where Ringo had just been fucking shit up five minutes prior. Attempting to keep all of his stolen goods concealed, Paul strolled up and down the aisles, trying to decide which items on display were the best to grab (aka what would impress John the most). After checking to see if the coast was clear (which it was, since all the staff in the area were busy dealing with Ringo in the front of the store), Paul slid a Nintendo Switch inside his coat and hustled away from the crime scene, giggling to himself.

Now he was on a high. He was bound to win the competition with his impressive level of skill; the rest of the boys had probably already been caught because they were nowhere near as sneaky as him. As Paul hustled past the home goods aisle, he caught a glimpse of a Rolling Stones poster and turned back around with a smug look. The poster immediately went down his pants, where it belonged, so Mick’s face was pressed up against some stuff I’m not going to list out here. To top off the successful day, Paul made his way to the lingerie section to pick out an especially nice bra to give to John as a joke, to really rub in his victory. With the exception of the quick period of shaking that nearly made Paul crap himself, he was poised with a confidence he had never felt before, like he was immortal. Paul crept his way out a side door and returned to George’s car with his head held high and his pockets completely lined with goods, making it to George and John with three seconds to spare.

John knew exactly what he was doing from the get-go. He knew that his mates would all fall for a friendly competition and get so consumed by it that John could do his dirty work undetected. He knew that Ringo was bound to create a distraction big enough for him to do what he set out to do. He wasn’t sure if Paul and George would get caught too but, if they did, that would just be an additional bonus. After watching George and Paul hurry through the front doors, John stomped out his used cigarette on the pavement and ambled in behind them.

“Hey, Ringo,” he calmly greeted his mate as he made it through the front doors, where Ringo was still handcuffed and swarmed by employees and police officers.

“Hi John,” Ringo attempted to wave back, failing miserably. With a satisfied smirk, John moved to the front registers and, one by one, popped them open with a screwdriver that he himself had stolen from Target just the previous week. You’d think that alarms would have gone off, or someone would have noticed, but no, John was the true Master of Deception. He opened his coat to reveal a large, holographic fanny pack (also stolen) and started to fill it with the 1s, 5s, 10s, 20s, and 100s in each cash register. In under a minute, he had emptied out every register in the store, right under the cops’ noses. It was practically a miracle.

While George and Paul were still trying to make their way around the perimeter of the store, finding the best things to take, John was out the front doors in under three minutes, his fanny pack stuffed to the brim with cash just like George’s stomach was about to be with food.

“Fools,” John couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he lit a new cigarette and took out a long, satisfied drag. And, with that, he let himself back into George’s car and reclined backwards in the front seat, his feet kicked up on the dashboard. He kept an eye out for any commotion if someone caught on to his crime, but the store was incredibly peaceful and still, like a lake on a cool summer’s morning. John found that to be oddly beautiful, so much so that he knew he could write a decent song about it, called “Hey Target I Just Robbed You Blind, Suck It”.

After what felt like ages of waiting, George finally emerged from the store and, not too shortly afterwards, Paul trailed out after him.

“Did you see they arrested Ringo?” Paul asked as he plopped in the back seat, his pockets swishing this way and that and a loud, papery crunching noise coming from his pants.

“I was able to get in a quick word with him,” George told Paul. “Turns out he tried to steal the biggest TV in the store by hiding it in his pants.”

“Classic Ringo,” Paul rolled his eyes. “You’re awfully quiet,” he turned to John. “Nervous to lose?”

“You wish,” John snapped back to life, reclaiming his role as the leader of the competition. “Well, let’s go then, boys, shall we? Show off what you were able to grab.”

George was the first to go, and Paul and John’s eyes widened as he emptied out the opened food packages from his stolen bag. He had enough in there to fill half a trash dump.

“I ate all of that in under 10 minutes,” George proudly shared, before letting out another loud burp. “And, I took this.” George untied his apron and threw it in the pile, adding along the scanner and the credit card reader. “They thought I was an employee,” George couldn’t help but laugh as he looked down at his red shirt and khakis.

“What are you gonna do with a credit card reader?” Paul couldn’t help but ask. It seemed like the stupidest thing George could have taken. Well, actually a toilet plunger from the bathroom would have been stupider, but Paul had come to that conclusion earlier after taking the toilet plunger from the men’s room and talking himself into putting it back.

“Dunno,” George shrugged. “It seemed like it would be hard to take, so I took it.”

“That’s admirable,” John admitted, impressed with his younger mate. “Alright Paul, show us your booty.”

Paul couldn’t help but grin in anticipated excitement at his seemingly inevitable victory as he first retrieved the pack of gum and soap, followed by the daily planner and $20 Applebee’s gift card.

“Hold up,” John stopped him. “You’re disqualified.”

“Disqualified?” Paul nearly shouted in shock. “Why?”

John pointed at the Applebee’s gift card.

“That’s a foul right there. No one in their right mind would steal an Applebee’s gift card and consider themselves a winner. That just spoiled whatever else you took, I don’t even want to see it.”

“But I took a Nintendo Switch!” Paul tried to protest, reaching into his coat to grab it.

“I don’t care,” John held his ground, “you’re disqualified.” George watched onwards in excitement; he loved it when he did better than Paul.

“Now how’s that fair?” Paul protested. “We’re all judges here, your word isn’t above ours!”

“It is when I already know I’ve won,” John retorted. Before Paul could fight against this, John unzipped his jacket, displaying his fanny pack. Both Paul and George broke into fits of laughter.

“You can’t be serious, John,” George howled, “You think you won with that?”

“That’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Paul added in, relief washing over him that John might have just been giving him a hard time. That theory was quickly abandoned, however, when John, sporting the strongest poker face ever seen in the history of mankind, unzipped the fanny pack, revealing the stacks upon stacks of cash inside.

“I counted it all while you were in there wasting your time,” he explained to George and Paul’s gaping faces. “It’s near $20,000.” George recoiled in shock.

“John,” Paul’s voice was shaking now, “I don’t think that was such a great idea…”

“They haven’t caught me though, have they?” John tested Paul with a raised eyebrow, nodding towards the store.

“But I don’t think you should be sitting in their parking lot with the $20,000 you just stole, John,” George told him, trying to keep his cool.

“I’m not worried about it,” John waved George off. “Ringo’s got them all busy. Meanwhile I’m gonna buy me a new car to celebrate.”

“John,” Paul deadpanned, “you already own three cars. And you don’t have a driver’s license.”

“You really do need to consider other ways to live lavishly,” George agreed.

“What matters is that I’m $20,000 richer and you’re not,” John snapped back at them, growing frustrated that they weren’t as in awe of his achievement as he had hoped.

Right as Paul was about to suggest that John go back inside and return the money before they got into any serious trouble, Ringo knocked on George’s window, accompanied by two cops, making them all jump. After glancing back at John to make sure his money was hidden, George rolled down the window.

“They’re taking me to the sin bin,” Ringo explained, nodding at the two cops who were holding him in a deathlock. “Apparently putting a TV down your pants is considered a crime.”

“No kidding,” Paul told him.

“My bail is supposed to be posted at about $20,000,” Ringo continued, ignoring Paul. “Can you help set old Ringo free?”

Paul and George slowly turned to face John, who was scowling downwards.

“Yes,” George answered for him, “in fact, I think we’ve got $20,000 we can spare.”

Ringo smiled.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.11 (spicyhoney)

Summary:  Stretch finally has Edge's address, but as always seems to happen in this town, answering one question only makes two more spring up to take its place.

Read ‘Unconventional Wisdom’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

The dog spent all morning napping behind the counter, not rising for broom bristles nudging him nor Stretch stepping over him awkwardly so he could grab a few boxes from the top shelf to fill up the front racks. He did snore loud enough to be heard over the radio, but eh, so did Red so Stretch was used to it.

It wasn’t until the jangling cowbell over the door heralded the arrival of a group of kids that the pup gave up on his snoring and wandering out to inspect the new arrivals, tail already happily wagging. Predictably, the kiddos were enamored of their newest employee, although guard dog might be overstating things a bit. Okay, maybe a lot; it looked like Red hadn’t been able to get back to sleep last night because the once-filthy dog with a mess of tangled fur was now freshly washed and brushed, and he smelled a lot like the shower gel from Red’s bathroom. Cleaned up, he was a handsome dog, looking as fluffy as an enormous toasted marshmallow. Not exactly threatening, fluffykins here was probably gonna spend most of his shift on moral support duty.

The little girl who was currently the main recipient of the dog’s enthusiastic face licking giggled and asked, “What’s his name?”

“uh.” That gave Stretch a pause. He shrugged. “doesn’t have a name yet, i’ll have to ask red what he thinks.”

“Should name him Rover,” one boy put in helpfully.

Another boy chimed in, “Or Bingo!”

“Cheeseburger!” A little gal firmly declared as though no other name would do and Stretch couldn’t help laughing.

“is that a name suggestion or a lunch request?” he teased. All the kids giggled, including the one who’d suggested the name and Stretch gave one of her pigtails a gentle tug. “tell you what, here.” He pulled out a pad of paper from under the counter, flipped past the pages filled with inventory lists and cribbage scores to a blank one and wrote carefully at the top, ‘Name Our Dog’. He set it in one corner of the counter triumphantly, “there! now anyone can suggest a name and red can choose the best one.”

All the kids seemed in agreement that this was the best course of action, each taking a turn to scribble their suggestion on the sheet. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if ‘Cheeseburger’ was at the top of Red’s picks.

The kids eventually abandoned the dog and started a round of intense negotiations over what penny treats to buy today. Stretch left them to it, settling to sit on the stool to wait for them to bring up their selections to the register. His mind wandered idly back to newest side quest: getting to 637 Wood’s End Drive.

He’d already tried to look the address up on his phone’s GPS and wasn’t too surprised to see that it didn’t come up, naw, that would be too easy. So, first was figuring out how to get there and second would be figuring out how to get there. Not like he had a car and somehow, he doubted that Backwater had a thriving Uber economy. Maybe he could hitch a lift with someone? People were always coming into town in those big ol’ pickup trucks and the folks around here were pretty friendly, plus Edge seemed to be pretty well known. They all probably knew exactly where Edge lived and stopped by for pie and tea all the time. Surely someone would be delighted to help out, particularly if they were one of the lookie-loos from Mama’s who wanted to see Stretch and Edge on another man date, thank-you-but-no-thank-you.

That would probably be the easiest way to go about it, but Stretch found he was strangely reluctant to take that route. It felt a little like cheating, considering the roundabout way Edge went about handed out his address.

Anyway, if he’d wanted to go down that path, he could’ve simply asked Red days ago, but that right there was an entirely different can of worms that he didn’t want to share with any of the early birds. Red never forbade him from hanging out with Edge, but he’d been pretty clear time and again that he wasn’t too keen on it, either. Might be best if he kept any mentions of Edge to a minimum unless Red brought him up first.

He’d just figure it out himself, thanks, and he wasn’t any puzzle master, not like his bro was, but he had a little pride buried around here somewhere. Edge set him a challenge, damn it, and he was gonna see it through.

His absent gaze strayed down to the pile of bicycles outside the store, kid-sized, sure, but hey, wait a second—

“hey, guys,” Stretch said slowly, and the debate on whether to get two packs of everlasting gobstoppers or three paused as a half-dozen heads perked up like prairie dogs from a sugary plain. “if i wanted to buy a bicycle around here, where would i go?”

Heads ducked down again in a hastily whispered conversation, then the spokeskid popped up again and said, decisively, “Try over at the thrift shop. Miss Maggie always has old bikes for sale.”

“thanks.” He should’ve known. The only other option right in town was the tractor supply shop and while driving up on a John Deere would make a hell of an impression, it was probably well out of his price range. The kids crowded over with their handfuls of spoils and Stretch dutifully rang them up and if he tossed in a dime of his own to cover them, eh, wasn’t like they’d ever know. He handed over a paper sack of treats to a chorus of thank yous and the divvying began before the kiddos even got out of the shop.

“Oh, Edgar Allen said to tell you hi!” One little girl called back to him. She was gone out of the door before he could even think of a reply, all of them clamoring onto their bikes, their faces chipmunk-cheeked with their spoils.

Edgar Allen, shit, yeah, that was right. He’d pretty much been the first stop on this questline and Stretch’d been meaning to do something for him. He’d already rethought the magazine idea; what if it turned out that scarecrows couldn’t read, kinda insensitive there. He’d have to think of something, though, owing someone didn’t sit well with him even if that person didn’t qualify for traditionally alive.

In the meantime, the dog, bereft of childish companionship, wandered back behind the counter and flopped down with a huff, sighing deeply.

“yeah, go on and take a break,” Stretch told him, “you were working pretty hard there.” He stretched out a leg to pet the dog carefully with his foot and wasn’t too surprised that it didn’t care one bit about his shoe, only pliantly rolled over to give him better access to the belly region.

Stretch obediently kept petting, hell, he obeyed better than the dog. But his thoughts were still on the upcoming journey to 637 Wood’s End Drive.

~~*~~

Red relieved him in the shop a little later than normal, looking a lot like he’d just hauled ass out of bed. His shirt was the same one as earlier, only with a fresh crop of wrinkles and his eye lights were still bleary with exhaustion.

Almost, Stretch offered to stay later and let Red get a little more sleep, considering it was his fault Red got woken up in the middle of night. But the baleful glare Red sent his way was an unspoken warning that such an offer probably wasn’t gonna go over well. He kept his jaw shut tight and took the paper sandwich bag Red handed over before heading out the door. Time to get this side quest rolling, literally, he hoped.

The few times he’d met Magdalen May he’d figured right from the get-go that she, like Red, was a partaker of the Sheriff’s son’s prize cannabis crop. Not only because of her dreamy demeanor but also whenever she came into the store, she was surrounded by an almost visible cloud of pot stank so strong that Stretch got a contact buzz while she was shopping through the meagre selection of yarn that Red kept. By the time she left, Stretch would have a craving for Cheetos so strong he’d be ready to start gnawing on his fingerbones for a cronch.

Stepping into the thrift shop was a little like hot boxing in a hoarder’s closet but Stretch soldiered on, squinting as his vision adjusted from the bright light of day to a dimness barely above attic-levels. He went past shelves of gewgaws and boxes of dusty records, old clothes hanging from racks that looked like they’d been commandeered from a lot of remaindered furniture. There were tables piled high with ancient radios, cameras, electronics that Stretch didn’t know the name of and surely didn’t work, existing only to be parted out by an amateur scientist or an electrician in search of cheap parts. Antique glass was set high on the shelves, catching dusty light and sending a kaleidoscope of color to scatter over the room, freckling it in greens, reds, and yellows.

The entire store radiated a glorious sort of chaos and if it weren’t for the fact that he already felt a little woozy, he would’ve stayed for a while and poked through some of the wares. Maybe even find a new book for Red buried in the nearby piles, see if he’d be willing branch out into cowboy romance for a change.

He heading to the back of the shop where Miss Maggie was sitting in a rocking chair surrounded by boxes and shelves, knitting with flashing speed despite the foggy miasma hanging in the air. Her long white hair was smoothly braided and pinned up on top of her head, her weathered skin tanned dark and leathery. The weave of bright yellow yarn trailing from her needles was spread across her lap in an incongruous contrast to her dark, billowing skirt and the light sweater she wore against the chill of the air conditioning.

“Hello, Papyrus,” she greeted him with the sort of rough, croaky voice made over the years by a thousand packs of Marlboros. She didn’t look up, her attention completely focused on her knit and purl.

That gave him one hell of a pause. “how did you—” Stretch stopped. Great, he was in the soothsayer chapter and hadn’t even had time to prep. Yeah, okay, he didn’t really have any room in his life for another side quest, maybe let this one go. He didn’t actually want to know where she got her intel, not really, especially not with his head already spinning a little. He stuck his hands in his pockets to hide the way they wanted to curl into fists, rocking back and forth on his heels. “heya. i haven’t gone by papyrus in years, it’s stretch, thanks.”

“A wise choice,” Miss Maggie said. She sounded…different, somehow. He’d talked to her a few times now and strangely, today he couldn’t seem to place her accent. It wasn’t like the other townsfolk, all of them had a certain warm, down-homey charm, and usually so did she. Her words today were crisp, sharp-edged, nothing like the dreamy peace he was familiar with when she came into the store for coffee creamer and vanilla wafers. She glanced up at him over the wire rims of her glasses, her gaze as sharp as her tongue. “Names have power. A wise man keeps his true name to himself.”

“um. sure,” Stretch couldn’t stop himself from giving the door a longing glance. This was starting to seem like a bad idea, Miss Maggie seemed to be having a personality crisis, maybe he should come back after lunch. “that’s some very handy wisdom, but i’m here about a bike?”

She ignored that. “You have issues with names,” Miss Maggie told him. She kept knitting, needles flashing furiously in a rhythmic clickity-clack as steady as a metronome. “don’t you.”

“huh?” Stretch didn’t exactly have any flesh to get goosebumps with, but he felt a chill nonetheless, prickling maddeningly over his bones. His head was whirling, everything around him seemed to blur except the old woman in front of him. His tongue felt strangely thick as he whispered a question he didn’t want to ask, “i don’t…what do you mean?”

“Mmm, yes,” Miss Maggie sighed out, “so many names you’ve had and rejected. Had and left behind when you ran away, far, far away.”

“stop,” Stretch said weakly. His soul was starting to pulse with aching intensity behind his breastbone. The room filled with an electric heaviness like a coming storm, the rich green smell filling the room suddenly nauseating. “please, don’t.”

“Brother, lover, yes, but never father, not even once.”

“shut up,” Stretch said thickly. Or tried to, the words seemed to clot and stick at the back of his throat, refusing to travel over his useless tongue.

“And now you’re taking on new names,” she raised her head, and here in the dim, her eyes seemed like dark pools of pure blackness that reflected nothing of the flickering overhead lights. Her grin seemed unpleasant and wide, showing pale pink gums in an endless maw. “Is it friend you seek or something else, I wonder?”

As she turned towards him, her sleeve caught on the sugar bowl set on the table next to her, sending it tumbling to the floor. The burst of sound as it shattered pushed through his dazed distance like the snap of dry twig broken over a knee. Stretch jerked, blinking hard, and all the nebulous emotion in him surged forward, gathering and coalescing into real anger. He was starting to get sick of this shit, if everyone in town wanted to act like this place was Sleepy Hollow’s second-cousin, that was fine by him. He was happy to play along, but not if they were gonna keep sticking their shovels into his past to see what other skeletons they could dig up.

“look, fuck you,” Stretch snapped out. He turned back to the door, tossing over his shoulder. “never mind, i’ll figure out something else!”

“Wait!” And he didn’t want to wait, he wanted to push on through the door, but his stubborn feet suddenly refused to move. Miss Maggie clumsily thrust aside her knitting, hardly noticing her teacup wobbling, spilling tea and leaves out into her saucer in a wild splash. That funky weird woman vibe abruptly eased and so did some of the stench in the air, flavored instead with lavender tea. She waddled over to him, her long skirt dragging on the floor. Even bent over with age, she was impressively tall, hardly shorter than Stretch was, and he was a mini-skyscraper to most Humans. She looked up at him, her eyes a watery, pale blue, surrounded by a sea of wrinkles, how could he ever have imagined they were anything else?

Miss Maggie reached up to touch his cheekbone with fingers nearly as thin as his own.

“Oh, sweet child,” she said with mournful gentleness, and her voice was the smoky-sweet, grandmotherly one he recalled. “S’all right. Ain’t nothing wrong with setting aside a name you’ve outgrown, nor in taking on a new one.”

All his bright, burning anger collapsed inwardly, a card house with the center support removed, and hurt welled in him instead. He was crying, he realized distantly, tears stinging in his sockets, running down his cheekbones to gather on wetly his chin. He didn’t realize he was going to speak until he did, choking out, “it feels wrong.”

“How you feel and how things are don’t always match,” she agreed. She held out her arms, her gnarled hands open to him and Stretch leaned into them, burying his face in the soft, knitted shawl draped over her shoulder. She smelled like weed and lavender, a strange, exotic mixture. “i’ll get you all wet,” Stretch mumbled, muffled into the cloth.

She petted his skull gently, “It’s all right, child. I’ll dry.”

He held on tightly for a long time and when she finally drew back, she lightly touched his forehead with the tips of two dry fingers.

“You can get to his home through the forest,” she said, and it seemed to Stretch he could almost see it, clear as a picture someplace behind his sight. “Follow the exchange down about a mile, you’ll see a turnoff on the left. Don’t you stray from the path, you hear me, sonny?” Those pale, rheumy eyes searched his face for understanding. “Easy to get lost out there.”

“i won’t.”

“Good.” She let him go and shuffled back to her chair to picked up her knitting again. “Now, you mentioned something about a bike.”

For a moment, Stretch stood there, practically wobbling on his feet. He felt like he’d woken up from an unexpected nap, still floating in between the sleeping and waking worlds. Then he blinked, snapping awake, and looked around almost wildly. Until his gaze snagging on one of the shelves, or more specifically, something sitting on it, and held.

“a bike, i did.” Stretch walked over to the shelf where a bandana was sitting, a bright turkey-red plaid, and picked it up, holding it out for Miss Maggie to see. “how much for this, too?”

By the time he left the shop, he was in a fine mood despite his savings being a little lighter. He was pushing a rattly old bike with a squeaky chain and a horn that let loose with a hoarse ‘awhooga’ when the dusty rubber bulb was squeezed. The bandana was stuffed into his short’s pocket and the first thing he was gonna do was deal with that, then he’d worry about some maintenance. Probably better to find out if his new bike was streetworthy before taking his act on the road.

He used the walk back to the store to draw in a few deep, refreshing breaths of the heat-smoggy air, letting it clear his head.

“miss maggie sure smokes some strong shit,” Stretch muttered to himself. He left the bike leaning against the porch around back and headed over to the main road, taking his normal walking route down towards the corn. There were no kids on the makeshift baseball diamond today, looked like they’d headed off somewhere else to enjoy their penny candy.

The grass was yellowed and dying under his sneakers as he went off the beaten path, heading towards the rustling corn. Was it his imagination, or did those whispers get louder as he approached, even eager? The corn got lonely sometimes, Edgar Allen had said, but it didn’t mean any harm.

Somehow, he didn’t think the skeleton they’d found in the fields back in Doris’s day would agree.

“um, hi?” Stretch tried. There was no one around to see him and he still felt ridiculous, talking to the damn corn. “look, i dunno if you can understand me, but if you do, could you see that edgar allen gets this? i wanted to thank him for helping me out and i thought it’d look good on him.”

Carefully, he laid the bandana over a crux of green leaves and stalk, tugging to make sure it wouldn’t simply blow away. He left it there and turned back to town, hoping that the scarecrow got the message; as much as he wanted to thank the guy, he really didn’t feel like taking a second go in the corn maze to do it. He didn’t look back until he got back to the side of the road and there he paused, frowning. The splash of red should’ve been vivid against the sea of green but there was nothing, not so much as a glimpse.

He craned his neck, searching, but it hadn’t fallen to the ground and the wind wasn’t strong enough to carry it off. Maybe the corn had gotten the message after all? Yeah, he was going with that, and he headed back to take a look at his new bike, hands in his pockets and whistling cheerfully, which was a heck of a trick for someone without lips.

Yeah, he felt pretty good today and why not? He had a place to stay, a job, someone looking after him, and a dog. And now he had a bike. Things were looking up, Stretch decided.

Things were looking up.

~~*~~

tbc

[angelguk]

the one where jeongguk is in love with your voice (and also kind of in love with you). barista!jeongguk and busker!oc meeting for the first time. this was meant to be the intro for a fic but....life happens :/ still! it’s fun and jaykay is in love !! 3.3k words. listen to i want to be with you by chloe moriondo :3

The first time Jeon Jeongguk saw you he swore his heart stopped. It was early autumn and the sun was beating down on the tired pavement you’d paused at. He'd taken an impromptu break during the few moments it had taken you to set up and get your guitar out of its case. At first, he didn’t notice anything, too preoccupied with the game lighting up his phone screen to pay attention to the serene streets outside.

Then he heard your voice.

It wafted through the open windows and stained the atmosphere in the café, mingling with the scent of bitter coffee and burnt saccharine sugar. It took him a moment to register that the sound wasn’t coming from the speakers Seokjin had installed roughly a month ago but rather from the person standing outside in the late afternoon sun. The sound was coming from you.

He got up slowly, oblivious of the inquisitive gaze Seokjin was giving him and ambled to the glass French windows that allowed customers a full view of the cobblestone pavements outside the café. It also served the purpose of giving Jeongguk full view of you.

There was a claret scarf swathed around your neck. It was the first thing he noticed. You’d lazily tossed it over your shoulders in an attempt to combat the cool breeze that accompanied the autumn sun. The colour highlighted your skin, leaving you glowing underneath the afternoon sky. The guitar captured his attention next; it looked loved, stickers and small scruffs against the warm chestnut wood made it evident that that instrument had been in your hands countless times. That wasn’t difficult to confirm because your fingers deftly skipped over the strings with ease, pressing and strumming out notes that flowed into your euphonious voice.

It caught him by surprise, how much he liked the sound of you singing. But what drew Jeongguk in was the pure look of bliss that was painted across your features, a lazy smile gracing your lips as you sang out the lyrics of some song Jeongguk had never heard but he was going to look up in a moment.

He didn’t know how long he stood by the window watching you. Seokjin didn’t call his name when his break was over and time seemed to pass by in an instant yet it felt like it had been dragged out. He only resurfaced from his reverie when you stopped strumming your guitar. By then a small crowd had gathered and he couldn’t make out your face anymore but he heard the sound of your laughter skipping through the air as clear as the ringing of a bell. You sounded so thrilled, chatting away with some people who had the courage to walk up to you and compliment your talents. Maybe he should too — after his shift ends anyway.

(Unbeknown to him his shift had ended ten minutes ago but he still was stagnant at the window, watching you flit about with a grin on your face).

But then you were packing up and sauntering away and Jeongguk felt his heart twang as if he was one of the strings of your guitar. He had no idea if you would come back to the same spot again — he’d never even seen your face before. If only he’d gone out and said something, or just stood in the crowd and applauded.

But there was no point in dwelling on it so he ripped off his black apron in the staff room and bid Seokjin goodbye. His feet were heavy as he walked home and he kept glancing around, a sliver of hope that maybe you’d moved on to busk in a different but nearby location.

He didn’t find you despite aimlessly roaming around for an extra thirty minutes.

The next afternoon he found himself a place in front of the windows, gaze focused on the street across the café, a slight buzz in his veins because he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. The urge to see you again was driving him slightly mad and his co-workers could sense that because Namjoon and Jimin had vanished behind the counters. Seokjin didn’t say anything about his unusual behaviour.

He sat there, expectant, but you never come. This reiterated itself for the next few days until he abandoned the routine and reverted to his usual break schedule; he found his old spot in the back of the café and bent himself over his phone screen once more.

And then you came back a week later, a different scarf tangled around your neck (purple this time – or at least that’s what he could discern) and your beloved guitar in hand. Jeongguk found himself at the windows again, staring at your figure with an odd warmth blooming in his chest. You hadn’t missed a single Saturday since and Jeongguk had never been able to approach you either.

↯

Winter's around the corner, glaring by the fading ochre leaves tumbling from branches above. They form a golden carpet on the ground, the trees above left bare and exposed to the bitter winter wind. In general, Jeongguk favoured the feeling of sunlight against his skin — bright emerald leaves over sepia tones — which is why he abhorred this season. And yet he couldn’t help himself from staring out the window, the world falling into a cold slumber before his eyes. But the wonders of winter weren’t the reason Jeon Jeongguk was leaning against the windows of The Container, the café he worked at. He didn’t give a damn about winter; he was too preoccupied watching the girl across the street.

There’s a chill in the air, evident by the stiffness in your fingers as they strum the guitar in your grip. Why you hadn’t worn a thicker jacket was lost to him. Everyone knew how brutal the winters down here could get. Yet there you were, in a flimsy piece of fabric that didn’t hold the chill away, gingerly plucking at the chords of your guitar. For some reason, the sight of you enduring the cold and singing with a smile on your face made something warm kindle in his heart.

“If you keep standing like that you’re going to dent your face into the glass,” Namjoon comments, a cloth in his hands as he wipes the coffee tables  — a task Jeongguk was meant to be doing.

“Just dent the glass? Hyung, Jeongguk turned into a statue months ago. Don’t forget to dust him down, we don’t want our most prized decoration covered in cobwebs,” Jimin adds on, fingers swiftly drying up porcelain cups and saucers.

“Shut up,” Jeongguk retorts, snatching up his cloth and tearing himself away from the view before him. “I haven’t seen her in a while. She skipped the last couple of weekends, remember?”

“I’m sorry but I don’t have her schedule in my head, lover boy,” Jimin says, attempting to balance ten saucers and four cups in his hands, which was only going to end in a calamity of splintered glass and a tomato red Seokjin.  

“That’s not an excuse to stare at her like a psychopath through the window,” Namjoon interjects, kicking in a stray chair as he purposefully misses the glare Jeongguk shoots in his direction. “Jimin put those cups down before you break something. Seokjin will dock that shit from your paycheck and you still owe me five dollars.” His gaze flickers back to Jeongguk who was only half-heartedly cleaning up the café, “Are you ever going to talk to her? I bet she’s wondering who is the ugly guy who keeps staring at her.”

“I will! I’m just taking some time—"

“Time to do what?” Jimin had somehow successfully transferred everything in his grasp back into the cupboard, a triumphant grin on his face. “Your dick is going to shrivel up if you don’t get laid soon. And as far as I know, she's the only girl who has your attention.”

“Jimin has a point. I’m tired of hearing the terrible porn you watch at three am. Like come on, their moans are clearly fake and you still blast that shit.”

“I’ll turn it down when you clean after yourself. How many times have I picked up your dirty underwear from the couch?” Jeongguk snaps back.

“Disgusting. You’re both heathens. This is why I can’t live with you,” Jimin says, nose crinkled up as he dumps another set of dirty dishes into the sink.

“Glad to see my employees are hard at work.” No one had noticed Seokjin amble in and lean against the wall. “Jeongguk has a point, Joon. I can’t keep picking up your dirty laundry, you’re twenty-four not five,” he raises a hand to halt the torrent of words that threatened to spill from both Jeongguk’s and Namjoon’s mouths. “I wasn’t done. Namjoon also has a point, the shit your watch at ungodly hours is loud and disgusting and you need to make a move eventually. This whole stalker thing is starting to creep out customers.”

“Are you concerned about your business or me as a person?” Jeongguk questions, walking over to the sink to wring out his cloth.

“My business. Obviously.”

Jimin's muffled laughter fills the room as he flicks water in Jeongguk’s direction. “Some of us actually care and the last time you stuck your dick in anything was seven months ago. Which is mildly concerning.”

“I don’t need to constantly have sex like you Jimin.”

“You say that but I bet you’d kill to have the sex life I have.”

“STI’s have not and never will be desirable, hyung.”

“Shut it. Even if I dared you to, you wouldn’t have the guts to approach her.” He raises an eyebrow in challenge, baiting Jeongguk magnificently.

“Fuck you, I can and will approach her. Eventually.” He turns away from the sink, abandoning the cloth, a broom in his grasp as he saunters back to the window. You're still singing away to a small gaggle of people, the wind whipping at your skin. You really should have worn a thicker jacket. Maybe he should bring you something to drink? But do you even like coffee? Or were you a tea person?

“She’s probably a college student. By default all college students are required to like coffee whether they want to or not,” Namjoon interjects.

“Wait was I talking out loud?” He can feel the heat of mortification filling his face.

“This is why I need you to get laid,” Jimin remarks.

“I need you to shut up.”

"Jeongguk if I were you I'd go out there right now and give her a cup of coffee. In fact, I dare you to. I'll do the rest of the dishes for the semester if you do it." Namjoon’s arms are crossed over his broad chest, eyes staring Jeongguk down audaciously. The look in his eyes is telling like he knows Jeongguk would rather set himself on fire than talk to you. And he isn’t wrong.

“Jeongguk move, right now,” Seokjin hastily intervenes. “Shoo! He’s offering to wash the dishes! Grow a pair and get out the door right now!”

Seokjin’s right. The three of them abhorred washing the dishes (which was why Jimin was at the sink while they swept and dusted the café). So this was a perfect offer. He knew he should just take it because Namjoon didn’t do shit in the house anyway but he couldn’t help but feel apprehensive, a steady dampness forming in his palms. What if you found the gesture weird? What if you found him weird? What if his actions would make you run away from the café and then Jeongguk would never be able to see you again?

“Hyung...” His uneasiness was evident in his tone, whine sounding exactly like a wounded puppy.

“Knew you couldn’t do it.” Namjoon plucks up his cloth once more. “This really isn’t healthy though. She’s not some mythical creature, Jeongguk, she’s a person and people talk to each other.”

“I’m sorry are you declining Namjoon’s offer?” Seokjin looks as if he wants to snatch the broom from Jeongguk’s grasp and smack it against his skull. “Jeon Jeongguk you are putting your job at stake.”

“You can’t fire me for that! That’s unfair dismissal!”

“I’ll fire you for whatever.” Seokjin shifts towards the machines behind the counter, briefly cleaning his hands underneath the running sink. “I’m going to make you a latte and you’re going to leave this place and give it to her. Namjoon is offering to clean for God’s sake!”

Seokjin doesn’t pay attention to Jeongguk’s protests, swiftly fiddling with the machines as they whirr to life. “Here.” His outstretched hand held a steaming cup of coffee. “Are you going to take it or are we going to stay here all day?”

Jeongguk pauses, acutely aware of the tense atmosphere fusing with the scent of coffee beans and cream.  He doesn’t have to do it; he could just take the coffee and drink it himself. But then the sound of your voice comes drifting in through the open windows and his chest closes up. You’re singing louder for some reason, almost as if you were calling him to come. In all honesty, Jeongguk had to get over his fear of you. Namjoon’s right — you aren’t some mythical creature — you’re just a person like he was. And even if the small (read really big) crush he had over you felt paralysing at times it was better to say he tried then to admit he never did anything at all.

With a wave of sudden sureness rushing through his body he grabs the cup from Seokjin’s outstretched hand and twists around, blatantly ignoring the slow clap Jimin starts up or the shock filling Namjoon’s eyes.

His feet hit the pavement with a resounding thud, one that he feels in his chest but he keeps on walking. The closer he gets the more he feels like the world is slowing down. By now the crowd had dispersed, only one or two people stood around lingering. That’s reasonable because the sun had dipped further into the horizon, dwindling golden rays of sunlight illuminating the pavements. An instant later, he’s standing before you holding the cup of coffee in his hands. It’s then he realises just how stupid he probably looks. It suddenly hits that he’s got no idea if you were lactose intolerant or whether you preferred soy or oat or almond or how sweet you liked your coffee or whether you liked coffee at all and then you were looking at him and he didn't know what to say.

He tries to open his mouth but he can’t grasp at the words he needs. The strumming of your guitar slows down, a curious sparkle in your eyes as you look at the boy before you who’s turning bright rose with every passing second.

Jeongguk immediately goes on autopilot, shoving the cup in your direction. “Um, here, coffee. It’s cold.”

“The coffee? Sorry but I think I’ll pass on iced coffee,” you reply, shooting him a soft smile. “Thank you though.”

“Uh — no. The coffee isn’t cold, the weather is cold. I just thought that maybe you’d want something warm to drink?” Jeongguk wants the ground to open up below him.

The corners of your lip tug upward, eyes flickering over Jeongguk’s body. He refuses to look directly at you but he can feel the warmth of your gaze as you examine him. This is a stupid idea and he was going to kick Seokjin in the balls when he gets back inside. But instead of hearing a rejection floating from your lips, your voice urges his eyes up from the ground with wonder. “Sure, why not,” you say, an easiness in your tone. The coffee cup is out of his hand before he can blink.

He feels something in him shift violently when a smile breaks across your face.

The slamming of his heart against his ribs is nothing compared to the pounding in his head because holy shit your smile was the best thing he’d ever seen. Your face just lights up, the grin on your lips just as dazzling as the bright afternoon sun behind you. It felt as if there’s a hand around his heart squeezing it tight, leaving him breathlessly in love.

“Before I drink this,” you say, fiddling with the cup in your hand. “How do I know it’s not been tampered with?”

He flushes, taken back by your valid direct question. The sentence that leaves his lips is jumbled, a result of his nerves getting the best of him. “Uh — I  —well — um, I work over there,” he gestures to the establishment behind him, ears tinging rouge when his gaze lands on Seokjin standing menacingly behind the window. “My boss made it for you — well not for you, but kind of? I could have made you one too but he did — for no particular reason of course.”

Your laugh is light and airy, wrapping around his heart with a gentleness that leaves him woozy.

“Okay, I believe you.” You take a ginger sip of the coffee, still brightly gazing at him. “Thank you. This is so sweet of you. And a latte too, that's my favourite. Good guess.”

Jeongguk is never going to hit or insult Kim Seokjin again. His words still feel clunky falling out his mouth but he can't stop them from escaping.“You’re welcome! Thought I would bring you something you know. It’s really cold and you’re kind of the reason why we get so many customers.”

The eyebrow you raise is playful. “So you’re paying me with free coffees now? Not a bad move.”  

He rubs the nape of his neck, a sheepish smile on his face. “Got to keep the free advertisement happy, right?”

You laugh again and Jeongguk feels his world rearrange. In a second he’s buzzing, the warmth of your voice rushing through his body and leaving his nerves humming. Your smile was starting to have an adverse effect on Jeongguk’s heart. It might have stopped functioning properly a moment or so ago.

“I appreciate the gesture. Tell your boss thank you for me.”

Jeongguk splutters, eyes soft as he looks at you. “Actually, if you want to come in I could fix you something else as well. On the house! You can meet my boss as well.”

You pause, pretty lip caught between your teeth in thought. He thinks you might say yes. Needs you to say yes more than he’s needed anything else in his life. But then your eyes flicker to the well-worn leather watch strapped around your wrist, gaze crestfallen the second you register the time.

“I can’t today, unfortunately! Got to hurry somewhere right now.” He watches you pack up your guitar, the swiftness in your movements stabbing at his infatuated heart, the coffee he’d handed you sitting lonesome on the ground. You stuff the loose change scattered within your guitar case in your pocket before delicately placing the instrument in there. It only hits him then that he never once tossed something in there as a show of gratitude to you for filling the world with your mellifluous voice. His empty hands suddenly felt useless beside him, swinging forlornly in the winter breeze. He wants to help you, but he’s afraid he’s encroached enough already. “Thank you again. Maybe I'll drop by one day,” you say, smile bright and warm. He commits the image of you looking at him like that to memory, treasuring it deep inside of his heart.

“Yeah, sure. No problem." He doesn't want you to leave, but he can’t think of a way to make you stay.

Then you're gone, coffee clutched in your hand as you melt into the hordes of people roaming through town. Your claret scarf is the last he sees of you before he registers that he never asked for your name.

[kitkats-mikrokosmos]

you who led me through that maze, you are my light - chapter 1: such stuff as dreams are made

crossposted on ao3

genre: fluff, slowish burn, romance pairing: ot7 x reader summary: ❝ this rain, too, is coming to an end i won’t let go of your hand anymore i wish that you would love me ❞

(or the one in which bighit holds a raffle for army to spend 4 months with bts in a remote lakehouse, and you win)

word count: 1390 warnings: cursing

see author notes at the end

Words could not begin to describe the cocktail of emotions that shot straight through your veins as you stared down at your phone.

"Dear (L/N) (F/N),     Congratulations! You've won the raffle!     Please contact us by January 31st, 2021 to claim your prize.     We look forward to hearing from you. -BigHit Entertainment"

This had to be a joke, right? There was no way that this was real. Spam or a cruel joke from your family or maybe this was a dream.

You reached over and pinched your forearm. Hard.

The only thing that resulted was an explosion of stinging pain across your nerves and involuntary tears springing to your eyes.

So this wasn't a dream. But that still left spam or a joke.

It was totally in character for either of your brothers to pull something like this. But you didn't know if they knew how to spoof an email address, and, as you peered at the screen, you realized that address looked very official.

Quickly, you opened an incognito browser and did a Google search for BigHit's email address (addresses?). There was no guarantee of credibility, but still, it was better than operating under the assumption of goodwill. That was the sort of thing that got you hacked and all of your data sold on the dark web, and that was something you'd rather avoid. Once you'd found emails that looked like they might be correct, you opened the email again to compare them. The result had your heart hammering in your chest and your pulse fluttering in your throat like hummingbird wings.

They were almost identical.

This was probably the real deal.

This was probably the real deal.

You leaned back in your chair, a bark of disbelieving laughter leaving your lips.

Well shit.

You had some plans to make, you guess.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dear (L/N) (F/N),     We discussed what you mentioned in your last email, and, in the effort of making you more comfortable, we thought that we might send the boys out one at a time to join you in the as-of-yet undisclosed location. You would have a week to get to know each other individually before another member would join you both.     Is this sufficient? -BigHit Entertainment"

"Dear BigHit Entertainment,     That sounds great! Thank you so much for being so understanding. I really appreciate it. -(F/N) (L/N)"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Your plane will leave tomorrow at 6:00 AM. Sorry, but that ended up being the most convenient time."

"It's fine, I understand," you said, smiling even though you wanted to cry at the thought of waking up at 4 in the morning so that you could make the plane ride. You'd have to make an emergency order from Target for a couple of those Starbucks frappucinos. You absently scrawled a reminder to yourself down onto a sticky note that you stuck to your corkboard, phone balanced between your shoulder and your ear.

Oh, how you missed the days when you could just drive to the store down the road and pick up whatever junk food you happened to be craving at the moment.

Still, life goes on.

"All precautions will be taken, of course. Still, when you arrive in Seoul, you'll be required to quarantine for two weeks. I know you've already been informed, but I just wanted to double-check one more time: you are okay with this, correct?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

You'd expected it, in fact. They couldn't have known for certain that the ARMY that won the raffle would be from Korea, and there were all sorts of travel restrictions, worsened by winter - that they could fly you in at all was nothing short of a miracle. Quarantine seemed obvious.

You'd rather not spend time holed up in some hotel or someplace for fourteen days, waiting to see if you'll start displaying symptoms, but you'd also rather not get other people sick by accident - especially not the boys. The only way those two things could coincide was if the pandemic was over, and, unfortunately, things weren't there yet. You were still praying for a vaccine, but in the meantime.

"All right, I believe that's everything. We look forward to meeting you, (L/N)-ssi."

"I look forward to meeting you, too. Thank you. I really appreciate this opportunity."

It sounded like the person on the other end was smiling when they replied, "Of course. Have a good day."

"You, too."

"Bye."

You hung up and turned in your chair. Your suitcases were packed and waiting by the front door, and butterflies swooped in your stomach. In less than 24 hours, you'd be hopping on a plane to Korea, and in a little more than 2 weeks, you'd be meeting BTS.

Already, you were nervous. You couldn't imagine how much of a wreck you'd become as the day approached. Still, that was something for future-you to deal with. Present-you had enough on your plate.

First order of business: ordering coffee.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You blinked blearily up at the airport.

Where to now? you wondered as you stepped through the automatic doors. Multiple signs blinked at you to please wear a mask, and you adjusted yours a little, fixing it on the bridge of your nose. You glanced around. There weren't any obvious directions or anything.

"Uh, are you (Y/N) (L/N)?" an unfamiliar voice spoke.

You turned.

A woman in a pressed blue uniform and a matching mask stood there. She stopped the mandatory six feet away, and, judging from the crinkles of her eyes, she was smiling at you.

"That's me," you said, reshouldering your carry-on bag.

"Excellent!" she chirped, in true customer service fashion.

You felt bad for her, having to be this upbeat at ass o'clock in the morning. Maybe she could recommend you her coffee brand. Or maybe she was just fueled by spite like you'd been when you worked at the coffee shop downtown. Opening was always a fucking nightmare.

"Please follow me." She gestured onwards, then began walking.

You trailed behind.

"I'll take you to security," she continued as she walked, her heels clicking against the linoleum. "You'll be flying on a private plane today. Whoever's flying you out must really want to be sure you're safe." She paused. "And have a lot of money." She gave a tottering laugh.

You probably would've found the joke funnier if you were actually awake, but alas. You'd had two of your three coffees already, but there was only so much caffeine could do when it was up against the existential nightmare of an early morning.

Luckily, she didn't seem particularly daunted by her less-than-enthusiastic audience. Instead, she kept chattering on - about what, you weren't sure; you were having an incredibly hard time focusing your foggy brain to focus on anything for longer than 0.2 seconds.

You were flying to Korea. Jesus Christ. The reality was finally sinking in - as much as it could, given your current state. What country had you saved in a past life to be this lucky?

You likewise went through security in a daze, still reeling. You were only slightly more coherent when you were boarding the plane.

The flight attendant gave you a sympathetic smile and advised that you try to get some sleep - it was going to be a long flight.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

14 hours later, give or take, the plane had touched down in Seoul. You disembarked and were immediately swept away, rushed through customs before being deposited into the care of BigHit employees. One notable employee being Kim Hyun-Woo, whom had been the one you communicated with primarily as this whole thing was being set up.

He greeted you with a wide grin. "It's so great to finally be able to meet you in person, (L/N)-ssi."

You tried to return his smile as best you could. "You as well." You yawned. "Sorry, that was a really long flight."

"I understand." He nodded and gestured to the car. "If you'll climb inside, we'll take you to the hotel you'll be staying at for the duration of your quarantine."

You did so, and you were soon on your way.

You watched Seoul's cityscape slide by, the brilliant lights offset by the dark of the night, and you wondered why it was that you felt like your life was about to change. Forever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Short first chapter I know, but the next chapter will be longer - and juicier. You’ll be joined by the first member next chapter, so be sure to vote to decide who that’ll be.

[maxismatchccworld]

Hey you lovely Simmers! It is time for our new Spotlight of the Month. Please give a warm welcome to LittleMsSam aka @littlemssam​ 😊 I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t play the game without her mods and am so grateful for all of them!

Aloha everyone!

First of all thank you Kerstin for the Opportunity to introduce myself here.

My name is LittleMsSam and I am a Sims 4 Modder since January 2017. I used to play Sims 3 a long time ago and loved it. Not only because of the Game itself but because of the fact that it is a Game which supports modding. I love Games that gives Players the opportunity to mod it and make it more individual. Back then I was fascinated what modders could do with the Game but unfortunately I lost interest in Sims 3 because of lags and the long loading screens.

When Sims 4 came out I immediately loved the new Style. But of course in the beginning not much was to do since it was only Base Game. So I lost interest again for a while until I got back into the Game in the end of 2016.

I was on a Mod Hunt again but there was one thing I simply could not find. The Game was too easy for me so i was searching for a certain Mod to make it a little bit harder. But the only Mods I could find did the opposite: Mods that were making Painting & Writing faster. This was the reason i started to dig into modding myself and the beginning of a Modding Journey that quickly „escalated“.

I learned the Basics of Modding via Scarlet’s Tutorials on Sims 4 VIP. Which Tools do i need, how do i update my Mods and so on. From then on it was and still is a lot of trying by doing, failing and succeeding, laughing and crying.

My first Mod was…

now you can guess…

A slower Painting & Writing Mod. Tadaa!

I was so proud of myself back then and it is still one of my personal favorites that i use in my Game.

After that another Mod followed and another after and more and even more and now i am at a number of 164 Mods, 60 more Mods in a Random Small Mod Collection and a few Bug Fixes.

The main time I spent into modding now is to actually keep all those mods updated and to tweak them here and there. Especially after new Expansions Pack Patches it takes me sometimes up to 10 hours to check & update all of those Mods. Unfortunately for me I still use 95% of them myself so there is no way i would abandon them as long as i play this Game. And by playing I mean I load up the Game, play ten minutes, close the Game and tweak some Mods or make new ones to tweak the Game.

My Mods are various Mods from small tweaking Mods to bigger new Gameplay Mods.

Some of my favorite smaller Mods are the Slower Painting & Writing Mods like mentioned above. The Choose who you Call to Meal Mod which lets you choose who you want to call to Meal and if you want to eat too or not. The Auto Employees | Custom Lot Trait Mod which let’s Barista, Bartender and more auto spawn on Community Lots. The Automatic Thermostat & the Automatic Stereo System Mods which let’s you “upgrade” your Thermostat/Stereos to be automatic. The Cookbooks Cultural, Experimental, Seafood & Jungle Mod which adds new buy-able Cookbooks into your Game. The Sell via Simbay Mod which is a new unique Selling Service where you can submit all your crafted Items and Artifacts. The … annddd I should stop here or else this List will be endless. I use almost all of my Mods myself so yeah they are all kind of my favorites.

Those „smaller Mods“ are usually done in a few hours. Testing them though takes more time then doing them.

There are also some bigger Mods that add new Gameplay and/or took much more time do them and to test them. Those usually take a few days to do and even more days to test.

My first really big Mod was the More Buyable Venues and new Venue Types Mod which let’s you buy more Venues and adds new Venue Types to the Game. It was the first Mod where i had to dig deeper into the Game to figure out how I could buy Bars, Clubs and Co. just like I could with the Retail Lot. But in the end I got it to work and my first big new Gameplay Mod was finished.

My personal favorite bigger/new Gameplay Mods are:

The More Servings Options & Better Meal Time Menus Mod which adds new Servings Options via the cooking and gourmet cooking Menus of stoves & fridges (2, 3, 5, 6 & 7 Sizes). It does not sound big but it took me a hell lot of time to make all those recipes ;)

The Social Activities (Visit Friends, Family and more) Mod which adds Social Activities for your Sims to go to. You can go visit Friends, Family & more or go on Vacation & Honeymoon. Or you can visit a Music Concert or a Cooking Competition and have a chance to win a prize. You can also send your Toddlers to the Daycare or your Pets to the Pet sitter or Dog Trainer.

The Ultrasound Scan Mod which let’s you visit a Gynecologist to do a Ultrasound Examination. This Mod was only possible thanks to Turbodriver who helped me with the script part of this Mod. I really love this one i have to say!

The Live in Business Mod which let’s you run Businesses at Home like a Bar, a Club, a Daycare, a Vet Clinic, a Shop and many more.

And last but not least (before I get carried away again…) the Foster Family Mod where you can become a part of the LMS Foster Family Network and take care of Toddler, Children, Teens or Pets who are in need of a Foster Family. This Mod was only possible with the help of NisaK who helped me with the script part of this Mod. I use this one all the time to foster a bunch of Pets and find them a new Home in the Sims 4 Worlds.

There are also some Mods I personally don’t even use but I was up for a challenge to do them anyway. The biggest one is the “SimDa” Dating App Mod which can help you find your true love, have adventurous Blind Dates or hot One Night Stands.

Now enough of me, my Mods and my shameless self advertising.

I want to say that even if it can be pretty exhausting to support those Mods, I am really grateful I found my way into Modding and that I could meet some amazing people out there. Turbodriver, Basemental, Deaderpool, NisaK, RoBurky, Icemunmun, Scarlet and many more who are all amazing modders and personalities. Scumbumbo who was an inspiring, helpful, kind and amazing person who will be greatly missed. The MCC Discord Team who help the community each day as much as they can with Game Issues. EA & everyone involved for making a great Game that I really enjoy playing.

And of course everyone who uses and enjoys my Mods which is a huge motivation to keep going.

Everyone who did not know about me or my Mods feel free to come over and check my tumblr out.

Thank you all!