#for real though this was at the dollar store and it was the only one of that type

[astraltrickster]

This submarine situation is so wild. I'm always morbidly fascinated by industrial disasters and shit, because as much as they're tragic, they're also...usually some incredible monuments to the hubris of the wealthy, and amazing cautionary tales, and this one...this one is one of the best at that purpose I've seen in my LIFE.

Three business moguls including the CEO of the company involved, one of their adult sons, and one researcher who is on the record saying that he'd be at peace dying on a dive, climbed aboard a cobbled-together submarine to go visit the wreckage of the Titanic - a ship all but synonymous with the hubris of man, the ship declared unsinkable, whose maiden voyage was packed with the highest of white high society (and that glamorous side that adorned the papers to drum up excitement was specifically white high society; this came decades before nondiscrimination laws, the first class tickets at the center of all this pomp and circumstance were restricted by racist policies typical of the time (*this has been edited for accuracy and clarity)). Of course, despite all claims to the contrary, this big metal behemoth was, in fact, no match for the might of the icy sea. The contrast of the celebration and the hype of the launch with the severity of the disaster in the end, the broken promises, it all feels almost too poetic to be real.

Someone looked at that wreckage and thought, "there's a market here." Seeing nothing but dollar signs resting on the graves of a thousand, he built a submarine. It looked lovely and polished and refined on the outside. On the inside, it had no seats, was visibly thrown together out of parts from camping stores and big box hardware stores, and was controlled with a video game controller and one button - a duty which was to fall to one of the passengers after a crash course, but today, fell to the CEO himself.

This man fired a whistle-blower during the construction. He complained about safety regulations. He built a submarine that was bolted closed from the outside. He came up with no emergency plans, despite the need being apparent. He charged a quarter of a million dollars to ride it.

He christened this glorified sardine can Titan.

And so, down these 5 went.

And, just like with the wreckage they were going to see, something went wrong.

And so they vanished.

It feels like a plot line that resulted from the writer's strike. It's so on the nose it feels like a story written by scab labor. And yet, and yet, much of this is common of industrial disasters. The Challenger disaster. Alaska Airlines flight 261. The ultra-wealthy choose spectacle and/or profit over safety, time and time again. It's the same story almost every time...though, this one certainly has its own unique twists. The purpose. The name. The man who organized this was not only staring down constant reminders that no man, no matter how wealthy, is any match for the sea - reminders of the awe-inspiring power of nature - and instead of seeing it as something to respect, he saw it as something to conquer, as a trivial matter.

And he, and those who trusted in him, are now paying the price, most likely with their lives.

Reality truly is stranger than fiction.

#current events #oceangategate

[artificial-transmutations]

Insatiable

"You want... dick?"

Oh God, finally! It had been the most stressful and embarrassing fifteen minutes for Derek, but apparently, the old (and somewhat creepy) lady on the other side of the desk finally got what he meant.

"Yes! Dick, cock, penis, that's what I want. For my boyfriend." he added.

Communication has been... Difficult to say the least. Derek would normally never set food into a store like this. The small room was cramped with various utensils Derek couldn't even name. There was a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling, and a row of dusty jars was standing on a shelf right next to his ear. Derek was sure they contained old and wrinkly apples, mainly because he didn't want to think about what could be in them if it weren't apples.

However, as creepy as this place was, some of his friends had recommended it highly, because the owner of the store apparently could produce an aphrodisiac that put the blue pill to shame. Even if she looked like the embodiment of a voodoo lady, that was.

However, explaining what he wanted and that he wanted it for his boyfriend had been more than difficult. The old lady seemed to be hard of hearing *and* had a hard time grasping the concept of a gay couple. But, apparently, finally it clicked.

The lady shrugged her shoulders which made her large earrings shake.

"OK. Dick for boyfriend." she shrugged again, but began to gather... Something... From her drawers.

"I need..." she began, but Derek interrupted her.

"Some of his hair, yes." That part was clear to Derek since all his friends who recommended the place mentioned. It was probably just for show, but apparently, some hair was a required ingredient.

The old lady nodded and took the small plastic bag with Sean's hair that Derek had brought.

He was surprised when he saw her kneading a soft wax like mass with her bony fingers. Wasn't she supposed to prepare some pills or potion?

He was yanked back to reality by a short tug on his scalp though. The voodoo lady had ripped off some of his own hair, too.

"Ouch! What was that for?" he asked, although it hardly hurt.

"Need hair both" was the only answer he received.

Fascinatedly, Derek watched as the old lady formed a small humanoid doll from the substance. Of course. A voodoo doll. So much for any real surprise for Sean's birthday. Well, at least it was an original joke gift.

The wax figure was unmistakably male. On the one hand, it was obvious from the V-shaped body, the flat chest and the muscular frame that was emerging, but, most importantly because of the other detail the old lady included: the doll was very much anatomically correct, as it sported a large, erect phallus, proudly emerging from its loins. When she was satisfied, she carefully took out Sean's hair and dotted it on the small doll. Derek watched her put it on the dolls head, its chest and even under the figures arms.

Derek's hair, however, went to the pubic area and was used to form a large bush around the phallus. She even massaged some of the hairs into the rod itself.

When she was finished, she took a short look at the doll and quickly dipped it into a cauldron holding an ominous slimy liquid.

"Here, finished. It's 10 dollars."

"Ookay..." Derek began. "And how does it work exactly?"

"It just works. Trust. It's 10 dollars." was the only answer he got.

Derek shrugged and paid the old lady before taking the wet doll. Careful not to get the liquid on his clothes, he thanked her and left the building.

He drove home, a smile on his lips. Hopefully, his boyfriend would like the joke gift.

***

"What is that?", Sean asked curiously, as he eyed the little figure.

"Isn't that obvious?" Derek laughed. "It's a voodoo doll, and it's supposed to improve our sex life."

Sean raised an eyebrow. "Do you think our sex life needs improving?" he asked his boyfriend in an amused voice.

Before Derek could answer though, he laughed and said: "Thanks, honey". He kissed his boyfriend, and what was originally planned to be a quick peck on the lips turned into a long and sensual kiss involving tongue and roaming hands.

They both panted when they eventually separated.

"I can already see a positive effect.", Sean remarked. "Do you want to take it to the bedroom and help me with that?" he grinned and gestured towards a small but noticeable bulge in his pants.

Derek gulped. "Yeah." he replied.

They hurried to the bedroom, where their clothes came off in a hurry.

Sean was unusually active. Normally, he was a pretty passive bottom, which worked well for Derek, since he had the bigger dick and liked to top more. However, today, after some making out, Sean whispered:

"Let's try something new."

Sean's hand, which had traveled to Derek's ass left little room for interpretation on what he meant. He nodded. If Sean wanted to top, and on his birthday of all days, who was he to disagree?

They moved around, so Derek was on all fours and Sean positioned himself behind him. Derek closed his eyes in anticipation, feeling the cool air on his ass, the bed slightly dipping, and Sean's hot breath.

"I can't wait to get inside you." Sean breathed.

The next thing Derek felt was something hard, wet and hot against his asshole.

His eyes shot open.

"Is that your tongue?"

Sean hummed. "Yeah, and it tastes great."

He proceeded to lick Derek's butthole, occasionally even penetrating it with the tip of his tongue. Then, finally, Sean removed his tongue and left the stage open for his very erect cock.

Derek had expected him to use lube, but instead, he heard his boyfriend spit and felt a hot liquid hit his butthole. He didn't complain though. This was new, exciting, and he really wanted to see where this would lead. Besides, Sean's cock was small enough to not hurt much either way.

And, true enough, he slid into Derek with little to no resistance.

"You like that?", Sean grunted, and Derek could only moan in response.

Slowly at first, then faster and faster, Sean was fucking Derek. Horny as they both were, it didn't take them too long to simultaneously cry out in ecstasy, as Sean pumped his seed into Derek's ass.

As they were both lying on the bed, panting and recovering, neither of them noticed at first that some subtle changes crept over their bodies. Where Sean was growing a bit bigger overall, both in height as well as in mass, Derek shrunk.

At first it seemed that he was losing stature in the same amount that Sean was gaining - however, that quickly proved not to be the case: After a few moments, Derek had lost a good 25 centimeters of height and was overall thinner and leaner than before.

Sean, on the other hand, was somewhat more muscular and had gained about 5 centimeters in height, putting him at about 1,80 meters now. His changes would have been way less noticeable had it not been for another growth: On both his chest and under his armpits, a patch of dense black and curly hair had begun to sprout.

One thing however had not changed: The size of their slowly softening dicks. However, with their new body sizes, Derek's cock looked even bigger and Sean's even smaller than before.

They were both still catching their breath when Derek was the first to notice the change.

"What the-", he exclaimed. He sat up, looking at his body.

"What is it?" asked Sean, also sitting up. "Woha. Have you shrunk?"

Derek looked at him, confused and slightly worried.

"What? No! You have gotten bigger."

Sean frowned. "Really? I feel like I have grown a bit, but I think you have become a bit smaller."

Sean stood up and gestured his boyfriend to do the same. Really, while the perspective was a bit off for Sean, it was completely different for Derek. His eye level was about at shoulder-height of Sean now and he had to look up to see his face.

"I am shorter." he remarked, dumbfounded.

Sean shook his head. "But that's impossible."

"It is." Derek confirmed. "And why the hell do you have hair under your arms, too?"

Sean shrugged, confused, but then he looked down his own body.

"It's not just there! Man, my body feels *weird*. It's like it's not even my own."

"Tell me about it", said Derek with a grimace. "I feel like a dwarf!"

"Awww." Smiled Sean. "But if it's any consolation: You are a very sexy dwarf. You have such a cute ass." As if to make a point, he slapped Derek's behind lightly.

"Yeah, well, I have noticed your newfound interest in that area." Derek commented dryly.

"Hey, it's not like you can complain!"

Sean readjusted his dick, which hadn't returned to a fully flaccid state with all the talk about asses. It was true, though: Derek was really cute that way.

Derek meanwhile slapped his forehead. "Of course. It must be that voodoo doll. Let me phone the shop!"

"You mean like real magic?" Sean said but Derek was already dialing his phone. After a few seconds, however, he hung up.

"Damn, they're closed for the day already. I'll have to try tomorrow."

"Well, I guess there are worse things than being short for a day. Hey, how about we watch a movie and eat some pizza tonight, and tomorrow, you can go to that store first thing in the morning."

Derek broke into a smile. Sean was right of course. It wasn't like anything catastrophic had happened. Still, the implications, with voodoo magic being real and all that were a lot to think about it. But that could wait until tomorrow.

"Sure! It's your birthday after all!"

They put on some clothes and went to prepare pizza together. Their body sizes were becoming pretty obvious when they settled on the couch after dinner. Of course, their usual snuggling positions didn't quite work out and they had to arrange differently. Finally, they settled with Derek's head on Sean's lap, who took quite a bit more space on the sofa now.

This position allowed Derek to notice at once when, around after half the movie, certain parts of Sean stirred under his head.

"Are you seriously getting a boner from me watching a movie?"

Sean grinned. "Sorry. You just feel so nice down there."

Derek rolled his eyes.

"You know, I can feel a boner poking against the back of my head, too."

"Hey, it's not my fault when you look so cute!" Sean smiled and stroked Derek's hair.

"Well, the voodoo lady did say that the doll was supposed to increase our sex drive. I guess that part works. We can still watch the movie if you want."

"Actually..." Sean began, and Derek could feel Sean's dick quickly getting harder. "... I have a different idea."

Sean pulled his pants down a little, just enough to free his cock.

"Would you give me a blowjob?"

"Sure." replied Derek. It had been a while since they had switched things up, so he was more than willing to go with it.

Sean shifted, giving his boyfriend better access, and Derek scooted lower. He grabbed the shaft and gave it a few tentative licks, before starting to suck in earnest.

While Derek was busy working on Sean's dick, his own was straining his pants, and he opened them to jerk off. However, after some minutes of enjoying the sensation, Sean pushed back Derek's head.

"Enough with your mouth." he said, with his voice coarse from arousal. "I want that ass."

Derek didn't object. He stood up and let his pants and underwear drop.

"Wait a second. Let me get some lube."

"No need." replied Sean and Derek could see that he was right. Sean's cock was still wet from his blowjob and from the precum that was spilling out of the tip. With one hand, he spread his ass cheeks.

"Do it. Do me."

Sean didn't have to be told twice. He stood up and, after some brief repositioning, pushed his cock into his boyfriend's waiting hole.

"Oh God! You're even tighter than before!" he moaned, as he began to push into his boyfriend.

Derek couldn't answer from the onslaught of sensation, but Sean was right. It felt like Sean's cock filled him up like never before. Derek almost came from the sensation of Sean entering him alone.

When Sean began pumping, slow at first but quickly picking up pace, Derek was lost in ecstasy. All he could feel was his boyfriends cock inside of him, filling him from behind and rocking his world. At some point, he came all over the couch, but he didn't stop, because Sean didn't stop. He jerked his own cock more and more, riding the waves of his orgasm while his boyfriend kept plowing his ass.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Sean's thrusts became faster, erratic. With one last push, he buried his cock in Derek's ass and spilled his load.

Both men saw stars after that and were busy catching their breath, when, again, a change washed over them. This time, Derek noticed as the world around him became bigger quickly.

"Wha... It's happening again!" he cried out, alerting Sean to the fact, too.

Sean watched as Derek got smaller... and *smaller*, still impaled on Sean's dick. His shrinking only stopped when he was about 50 centimeters in height, barely half a meter tall.

"Did... it stop?" Derek asked, with his voice somewhat higher and fainter than before. Sean's voice, on the other hand, sounded deeper and resonated louder when he answered:

"Seems that way. Wow, what a shock. Let's get you off of me, first."

Sean tried to lift Derek up from his lap but found himself unable to. Sean's dick was firmly lodged into Derek's ass now and no matter how hard he pulled, Derek wouldn't come off. in fact, when he felt the hairy root of his cock, he couldn't even find a gap between it and Derek's ass cheeks, so tight was the connection. It was like Derek was glued or welded to his groin.

"Oh my god." exclaimed Derek, when he noticed the same thing. "I'm stuck!"

"What should we do?" asked Sean.

"What *can* we do?" asked Derek, with clear panic in his voice.

"Okay, okay. Calm down. We're still good, right? Everyone is alive, nothing to worry about. Tomorrow, we will go to that shop and have this sorted out."

"You're right." sighed Derek, who was still trying to free himself. "It's not like I'm hurting or anything. This is just weird. And uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable? What's wrong?"

"Everything." answered Derek, who had given up struggling. "The position, for starters. My feet aren't touching the ground."

"Oh." replied Sean. There was nothing else he could think of.

"It's not... *that* bad though", Derek continued. "It does kinda feel good to be this close. Like snuggling."

"Like snuggling?" asked Sean.

"Like really *close* snuggling. And you're pretty big right now, so I feel really secure."

Sean smiled, apparently having been successful in calming his boyfriend. He secretly had to admit that the situation was pretty exciting for him, but he didn't want to show it. Instead, he secured the small Derek with his arms and walked to the bathroom. It felt like carrying a small backpack in front of his body.

"Let's get cleaned up, okay?"

They did just that. Derek found that he could stabilize himself pretty well on Sean's body. And they both noticed that Sean, too had grown again. Now measuring about 1,90 meters and being covered by a considerate amount of body hair was certainly something else, but it paled in comparison to having his half-a-meter-boyfriend attached to his groin.

Not knowing what else to do afterwards, they went to bed. Sean carefully climbed on the mattress, making sure not to jostle his tiny partner too much. He positioned himself and put the blanket over him, with Derek safely secured underneath.

"Is everything okay?", Sean asked.

Derek was covered by the blanket completely but actually felt good. It was the safest feeling he had had for a very long time.

"Actually, yeah. I guess. Good night, honey."

"Good night, Derek."

After a few moments, Derek could hear Sean snoring and shortly after, he, too drifted off to sleep.

It was morning, when Derek awoke to a strange sensation. He felt really stiff, his back was straight, and he was feeling... horny. Of course, Derek had felt horny before, but this was no comparison. It was like "horny" flooded his whole system, from head to toe.

His mouth tasted like yesterday's blowjob... again. The salty taste of precum was on his tongue and his lips were tingling. He couldn't remember ever having felt that horny before, his whole body was just buzzing.

"Are you awake?" Sean's voice, deep and rumbling, startled him.

"Huh?", was his only reaction.

"Are you awake?" repeated Sean. "I'm horny as fuck."

"Uh, me, too." answered Derek, slowly regaining control of his voice. "Do you wanna..."

"Yes. Oh yes. Perhaps if I push you up and down my cock, we can..."

"Worth a shot." Derek confirmed.

Sean did just that. He gripped Derek under his shoulders, making sure that his small hands were not crushed, and slowly began lifting him. As before, Derek's ass was still firmly attached to Sean's groin, but the tugging sensation was enough for both of them to produce a deep and needy moan.

However, as Sean pushed Derek back and began to pull again, Derek interrupted:

"Wait! What if... we change more?"

Even though it took a considerable amount of will from Sean, he stopped for a moment. Derek was right, he knew that. But the urge was just too strong.

"Yes..." he half-moaned. "...but I need this."

"Sean, what..." Derek began, but Sean had started to tug Derek's smaller body again, and the rest of his sentence was swallowed by a needy moan from Derek as well. Fuck it, how much worse could it get?

As Sean moved his hands up and down Derek's body, he could feel more changes setting in sooner. The taste of precum in his mouth intensified and Derek found himself drooling up liquid that tasted like it as well. It ran down his body, which was, again, changing.

Derek's arms and legs shrunk into his body fast, faster even than the rest of his body, which was also getting smaller again. It was mainly frustrating for Derek since he couldn't reach his cock anymore, as his extremities got absorbed into his more and more cylindrical body.

Sean's movements changed once Derek's arms were out of the way. No longer was he tugging the much, much smaller man up and down, but instead he closed both of his arms around Derek's torso and started *rubbing* them up and down.

The feeling was incredible. Derek found himself drooling more and more, coating his whole smaller body with precum. As Sean pumped his hands up and down Derek's body, wet sounds emerged, just as if he was pumping a well-lubed cock.

The motions quickly became quicker and quicker, Sean's breathing heavier and heavier. Derek's breathing however stopped entirely, as his inner organs changed into the only thing that was important: the various veins and glands that made up a cock. His own cock and balls disappeared into his body as well - not that he needed them anymore. He didn't need a cock, he was *becoming* a cock. A large and hefty tube of flesh, firmly attached to manly Sean, who was grunting now, close to release.

Derek could feel a pressure starting deep within him, and, as his head changed into Sean's cock head, he *exploded* with his cum, spewing it from the slit that had been his mouth just a few minutes before to everywhere in the room.

***

Of course, the voodoo shop was nowhere to be found - or so Sean claimed. Derek had remained somewhat sentient, but unable to express himself other than through twitching and getting stiff. Sean was a man who had a cock with a mind of his own - literally. The new and enormous cock meat he called his own now was quickly becoming the center of his world. Not only had his cock a mind of his own, Sean was also more and more thinking with his cock. He was positively addicted to getting off and his libido surpassed that of the two men become one.

It didn't take long until Sean lost his job due to the fact that he just couldn't stop masturbating long enough to squeeze in eight hours of work. His environment degraded around him into a cheap and dirty flat. But all of that was hardly important. Sean was a stud of a man with a cock to match. And he knew how to use his equipment all too well. He was quickly getting known as the insatiable top, who sometimes brought home two or three guys at the same time. When he was not busy breeding some bottom, he mainly spent his time watching porn or idly playing with himself. One thing was certain: Derek had certainly got a lot of action for his money.

Time for a good old cock tf! This one is a bit more involuntary and a bit more focused on the actual transformation than my series Closer Than Flesh, which focused more on the story of *being* cockmeat. I'm sure I wouldn't mind either way!

Do you have any transformation you would want to see written? Don't hesitate to message me!

#male transformation #muscle transformation #inanimate transformation #cock tf #hairy

[johnpriceslamb]

I will always love the idea of being rescued by a cowboy (Arthur Morgan).

Just the image of running away from someone in Saint Denis. Maybe it’s due to a misunderstanding, robbery or simply a creep. Making the dumb mistake of not hiding in a shop and finding yourself in an alleyway trapped. Except the real person in trouble is the stalker because Arthur Morgan is about to serve a knuckle sandwich. Or gun. Doesn’t matter, dead either way.

𝓜𝓨 𝓗𝓔𝓡𝓞 ,

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ˚₊‧꒰ Things take a really wrong turn once visiting Saint Denis to stock up on food for camp. Luckily, Arthur insisted on accompanying you. ꒱

BEFORE YOU PROCEED ! ┊ Hyper-fem(?) ! reader • female ! reader • reader is mentioned 2 be physically shorter than characters mentioned below • gun-slinging mention • brute cowboy bf x shy princess gf • arthur morgan being a complete nut over u • harassment • attempted assault • not proof-read :P • very rushed ‘m sorriiii!!! • 1.6k wrds

“But Arthur—”

“No.”

The small stuffed toy in your hands looks hurt from his rejection, as do your expression on your face. You hug the little guy to your chest, and you put on your best puppy eyes to try and make him change his mind. This usually works, but unfortunately- it did not, this time.

“We ain’t gettin’ that.” He grumbles, lazy eyes looking around the fancy store. He’s uncomfortable, you could tell. From the way he glances at all the bright coloured items sitting preciously on such elegant shelves, you’d think it would’ve costed at least a finger or too to even manage one, the golden floral designs embarked in the corners of the interior, to the fancy looking tiles beneath your feet.

It’s too.. fancy. He stands out like a larger thorn amongst a stem of a rose.

You puff out your cheeks at his slow-growing irritation. Before reluctantly putting it back on the shelf you found it on.

Then, he continues on with a low sigh. Your hand was in his, and he leads you around very similar to a grumpy dad leading his daughter from all the chaos happening which surrounds them. There was too many people, and he feels like he’s about to become crabbier each second will pass being in this awful store.

“We’re here to buy food, not toys.” He grunts, before gently giving you back your empty woven basket.

You begrudgingly force yourself to not reply, sticking close to him.

Suddenly, your eyes perk up at the small sign embedded with ‘Spices’ in bold which hung up from the ceiling. You tug on his sleeve, “Arthur?”

“Hmm?” He looks back. His heart almost aches from the way your beady eyes stare up at him like a small puppy.

“Can we get some spices? Y’know, for the stews Pearson makes. Only a bottle or two!” You pleaded sweetly, gesturing to the sign afar. “It’ll make his food taste more.. appetising.”

He ponders, before nodding slowly. “Hm.. Alright. Get two though, make sure it ain’t so spicy.” He pats your lower back to encourage you to get it quicker. You beam and nod, but before you go, you hand him the basket so he could continue shopping, scampering away to get the said items.

The array of little wooden jars sealed tightly with spices made you in awe. You can practically smell each and one of them from a literal mile away despite the thin layer of sticky-tape which goes around the rim of the jar multiple times.

You unconsciously place a finger on your cheek, pondering on which one to get. Not long, your hands reach up to a jar embedded with the words ‘pepper’ and another reaching up to ‘nut-meg.’ Each selling for only a dollar. Not too bad.

And you feel a towering presence behind you. Believing it was your beloved, you eagerly turn around with a squeak— “I’ve got the!— uh..”

A few blinks and an abrupt pause. It was not Arthur.

Rather, a man with leering eyes, and a predatory-like gaze.

You shift around uncomfortably, “..Um. Can I help you, mister?” Posing to be polite, perhaps the man just wanted help with something.

He stares at you for a bit too long, and you can see his eyes lowering and lowering, before travelling up your figure once again.

He coughs, “Ain’t you a pretty lil’ thang..” Before scratching at his long unkept beard.

Your steps are quick, almost backing into the shelves of spices.

“..Please leave me alone,” You meekly stutter.

He flashes you a crooked teeth grin. “Now why in the hell would I do that?” He takes another step towards you. All instincts inside you rise up quickly, and not long after you pocket the spices inside your light-pink dress before immediately turning to the side to leave.

You don’t notice the fact that he follows you. Only until you reach the same spot Arthur beckoned you to go and get the items you wanted, he wasn’t there. You feel insanely insecure due to the fact that you could not find Arthur amongst the crowd of people inside the large general store. Only then do you stop, and feel..

hot breath hitting your neck.

You squeal, turning around immediately and backing away.

“Get— get the hell away from me!” Your frilly cries cause a few people to turn their heads towards your direction, only to ignore you as soon as they assessed the situation.

He has the same crooked teeth smile on his face as he slowly creeps up to you again. And with that, you hitch up your long floral skirt and run. Run to the exit of the general store with a squeal- only for some crazy man to quickly follow after you.

You want to hit yourself on the head. You didn’t have any guns, nor did you remember to pack the pocket knife Charles gifted you to protect yourself from anyone. You were never one to raise your hands to anyone, nor try to cause conflict.

You bump into a few people, earning scowls and empty threats. You didn’t care, not with a lunatic right on your feet.

“When I catch you—” You hear him heavily breathing, “‘M gon’ do real bad things t’ you, real bad.”

You want to tear up. Badly. But you don’t. Your mind is in shambles as you turn a corner, only to almost run face-to-face to a brick wall which stands tall and high.

You were cornered.

You sob loudly, scratching at the brick walls- you’re well aware that this alone will do absolutely nothing, and your painted nails will probably have cracks on the tips of them. But with panic crumpling your brain, you tend to do things a bit.. weird.

The walls between the two of you are so close it feels like you’re about to faint. An echo of laughter is what catches your attention as you slowly turn around.

“Please, mister!” You plead with a loud sniffle, “I— I— we don’t even know each other!” You let out a loud enough wail when he approached rapidly.

“Ohoh, dumb and pretty. What a package.” He rubs his hands eagerly, almost drooling at your pathetic sight, “You really thought you could outrun me?”

“Don’t make this harder, sweetheart. Just take them frilly lil’ clothes off.. In-fact, why don’t I help ya..”

You clumsily slap him once he’s just a centimetre away from you. Hardly. A low growl escapes his lips, his head turned sideways from that harsh slap.

“You little bit—”

A bullet whizzes past you. It hits the bricks behind you, just a hair-length away. It causes you to yelp loudly, as does the man who was about to slap you back. You peek your head over his shoulder, only to let out a loud cry of relief.

“You better let her go, friend.” The same cowboy who’s uttered the sweetest praise to you and only you, talks in a tone too cold for your liking. Something you’ve never heard nor experience.

“Who the hell is that?” He snarls to you.

“I said, let her go.” Arthur is not afraid to put a bullet through his head. His shoulder is gripped tightly and yanked away from you, leaving you to allow your knees to buckle from shock as you leaned on the wall to help you balance yourself from the shock.

With a harsh bonk to the head with the butt of his revolver, the man slumps on the dirty ground. An obvious purple dent on his head.

Arthur rushes over to your shaking form, immediately scooping you into his arms and squishing you into a tight bear-hug. You’re probably gonna regret the fact that some of your powder will get onto his chest, but you hiccup and hug him tighter for comfort.

You stammer out, “I— he.. I thought I was gonna die..”

He brushes your hair with his burly fingers, “You’re okay, sweetheart. Don’t think about it no more. No one’s gon’ kill ya if I’m here.”

Suddenly, he looks you up and down quickly to assess you. “You ain’t hurt anywhere are you..?”

“No,” You shake your head meekly, “‘M okay. I.. I think I need a bit of time to myself at camp, though.”

“I understand.” He nods and gently puts an arm around your waist to guide you back to the wagon parked a long way away.

His hands brush past against your pockets and notices two hard cylinder shaped objects in them.

Suddenly, your eyes widen, “Oh darn- I-I forgot to pay for the spices!” He’s amused at your lack of profanity used.

He interrupts you with a soft chuckle, before squishing you a bit tighter, “Guess that makes the two of us. Rushed out with the groceries in the basket to find ya and didn’t pay. Reckon we gotta go another route to get to the wagon, passing by the general store will surely just get us into more trouble.”

You could envision that scene playing out. Arthur realising that you weren’t there, and immediately rushing out of the general store with a bunch of items inside the basket to find you.

“Don’t think we’ll be visiting Saint Denis anytime soon.” You feel a tug on your hand as you see a shopkeeper loudly calling out for the two of you.

You squeak and giggle as he easily grabs onto your waist and ran for dear life to the wagon with your shop-lifted grocery items. If you were to give a quick glance to the insides of the basket again, you can see a faint blur of a stuffed toy.

#fem! reader #rdr2 x you #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan #afab! reader #arthur morgan x fem! you #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan x fem! reader #arthur morgan fic #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fanfic #hyperfem! reader

[bryngmemoney]

✁FASHION FLIRT✃

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

⭑story masterlist link

tw: none

Writing in between messages!!

🪡Chapter Thirteen: Iron

“I hope this one lasts us longer than the last one,” Maki spoke as she untangled the cord of the new clothing iron you guys had bought. “Well, to be fair the last one cost us 15 dollars with tax.” Maki plugged it into the outlet, clicking a button at the top of the handle to set it on the right type of fabric she needed. “Yeah, well this one doubled in price, so it better work.”

Maki was currently in a desperate situation of trying to get Kirara’s outfit done. Her model had informed her that they were taking a two week trip for one of their programs. This wasn’t a problem as it didn’t conflict with the date of the show, but it did mean that Maki needed to hurry to try and get the outfit done. In the case that if anything wasn’t working she would still have time to make adjustments to it while her model was gone, and it would be ready by the time they came back. Maki was close to finishing up, the last thing left to do was to iron on patches she had designed on to the pants. The only problem was that today was Sunday, and the studio room was not open. There was a solution though, and that was doing the ironing on her own.

“It’s not turning on, pass me the instructions I might be doing this wrong.”

“The instructions came on the box, here let me see it.”

Maki held her hand a distance from the surface of the iron, “It’s lighting up but its not heating up, look.”

“That’s weird,” You took a hold of the machine, copying Maki’s movements. You moved a finger to place on the heating part, “Yeah, its not I wonder- ow!” It wasn’t the smartest move, but just your luck that the moment you decided to touch the surface, it had decided to finally start heating up. Your reflex was to hold your injured hand with the other, but that also meant letting go of the iron, and watching if fall on the ground, breaking.

“Shit.”

“Are you kidding me Y/n?”

“You broke the last one! This just makes us even.”

“What else did Yuji say was on the list?”

“Uh, yeah that.”

“Pay attention! Are we missing anything else?”

You looked up from your phone, seeing Maki leaning towards you at the end of the shopping cart. The cart itself was barely full, considering there was a max of 8 things on the ‘grocery list’ Yuji had sent you guys. He had already let you guys know he’d pay you back once you’d get there, but you were surprised by a reassurance text you got from Megumi saying that he would make Yuji give you and Maki any money you guys had spent at the store.

The conversation had gradually changed course from that and now he was just sending you pictures of his dogs saying that he’d introduce you to them once you guys arrived.

Your elbows leaning on the handle of the cart, you switched over to the list saved in your camera roll, and took a look at everything inside the cart.

“Yeah that looks good, I think we got everything.”

The cart began to move forward. Maki dragging it as you (barely) pushed it forward. “Who were you texting anyway?”

“I think you can guess.”

“Forget I asked.”

Author’s Note: iron incident based on a true story (i exaggerated it for story purposes mine didn’t actually break)

i’ve never typed the word iron sm before it doesn’t look real atp

anyways Megumi’s dogs mentioned again 🤗

hope you guys enjoyed!

Taglist below, feel free to comment or dm me to be added!!

TAGLIST

@iridescentrays @gumimegz @maya-maya-56 @mamafly @lunavixia @swissy23 @coltsgf @m00nglad3-mp3 @etsukis @xosren @qtnfer @oengleli @harek89 @y-sabell-a @morgyyyyyyy @getolvr @liliumaraneae @k3lbade @aiieera @dancedancey @get0sfav @chuyasthighs0 @hyssoplampflickers @kpopanimen @sad-darksoul @vivi-loves-penguins @kasumitenbaz @talkingsperm @nymphsdomain @inlovewithlondonn @rzcnlb @enchantingkitty @fuyuzemi @lysaray @ni-ki-ismyluv @reneny @frumira @mixzimi @miralunaela @dreamxiing @p3achiee

#jjk #jjk college au #jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi x reader #nobara kugisaki #yuji itadori #maki zenin #megumi fushiguro #inumaki toge #sukuna ryomen #sukuna #jjk smau #megumi x y/n #megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu megumi #fushiguro #itadori #jjk no curse au #smau #jjk au #jjk x y/n

[ohtobeleah]

for #PL1 can you please do some jake seresin fluff with 15 18 👀💗 also congratulations on reaching the milestone!!!! u deserve it sm ♥️♥️

15 - “She’s/he’s not my boyfriend!”

18 - “I think it’s adorable how easily you blush.”

Okay what else do we need?” You asked your daughter as you strolled the isles of the grocery stores looking at your list as you both did this week's weekly shopping haul. 

“Aunty Nix said we need plums—“ Isabella reminded you politely as she held onto the side of the shopping cart. “And washing powder, because Rooster broke the glass jar, remember?” Neither of those items were on your list—but both items you needed. 

“Okay, you go get the plums for me and I’ll grab some ham for your sandwiches alright?” You watched as your seven year old nodded and let go for the shopping cart. “Okay, grab about eight? And watch out for bruises okay.” 

“I got it mum!” Izzy called out as you chuckled softly and watched her make her way through the fresh produce section as you strolled over towards the deli and took a number. 

You and your daughter had moved to Fightertown for a few months after you and your husband finally settled your divorce. You were still looking for a place to settle into so you were currently living with your half sister Natasha. From your mom's second marriage. Seems as though you were following in her footsteps when it came to love.

For a while it was just you and Izzy—but then you finally met the one and only Jake Hangman Seresin. To be quite honest Natasha was purposefully trying to keep you and Jake from meeting as long as she could. She knew once he’d met you it was game over, he’d weasel his way into your life on a more permanent basis eventually. 

And that’s exactly what Jake was trying to do. 

“Hi there Izzy girl.” Jake beamed as he ran into your daughter by the plums in the fresh produce section of the grocery store. “Stone fruit season is pretty good isn’t it?” 

“I guess, whatever the hell that means?” Izzy shrugged, focusing on picking out the best of the bunch. Jake just chuckled out his nose as he looked around, trying to see if he could spot you.

“Where’s your mum?” Jake asked as he picked up a quarter of a watermelon and placed it in his basket. Izzy just pointed in the general direction of the deli. Jake followed your daughter's trajectory and soon enough he felt the heat rising in the apples of his cheeks as he caught the sight of you. “Ah, hey—do me a favour will you and say this to your mum when you go over to her.” 

Jake crouched to whisper in your daughter's ear and she giggled. She knew you liked Jake and that Jake liked you. She saw the way he looked at you like you were some sort of goddess who walked amongst mere mortal beings. Bradley looked at her Aunty Nix the same way and they were engaged, surely it had to mean something right? 

Izzy knew that Jake really liked you because she couldn’t ever remember a time when she’d seen her dad look at you the way Jake does. 

“Child labour is a real thing you know.” Izzy sighed as she turned all her attention to Jake, he absolutely adored your daughter. She was so vibrant and witty and kept everyone around her on their toes. “What’s in it for me?” Izzy asked as she kept Jake's stare, just waiting for him to fold. 

“Five bucks—“ Izzy contemplated Jake's offer for a few seconds before she politely accepted the transaction. She could buy a few lollipops with five dollars. What a score. “Go.” Tussling Izzy’s hair, Jake grinned as she laughed organically. “Before I call child protective services on your mother for letting you out of her sight.”

Isabella took off without much to add with her bag of plums in her hand and a cheeky grin smeared across her face as she ran back toward where you’d just ordered two handfuls of shaved ham off the bone. 

“I'm back.” She exclaimed as she held up the bag of fruit. “I ran into your boyfriend too.” Izzy laughed as she watched your eyes widen in shock horror at what she’d just said. “He said to tell you that he thinks you’re really pretty mommy.” 

Looking around the fresh produce section, your eyes scanned every square foot before they landed on none other than Jake Seresin. Immediately you felt yourself getting hot with embarrassment, 

“He’s not my boyfriend honey.” You tried to play it cool as Jake made his way over, ever so casually placing a gentle kiss to the warmth of your cheek. It made you melt into a puddle at his forwardness. The feeling of Jake's large hand splayed across the small of your back made your heart do leaps inside your chest. “Hi Hangman—“ 

“Hi mama, fancy seeing you here on a Sunday morning?” Jake cooed, his signature smile plastered across his perfect face. You’d only just made it back to your sister’s place this morning before Izzy was waking up, you’d stayed the night at Jake’s after dinner at Alfonso’s diner. 

“Just doing the weekly shop—“ You replied as Izzy watched the two of you interact, watching a live story play out before her very eyes. “What about you, Flyboy?” 

“Same thing, maybe we could carpool next week? Save on gas?” Jake teased as he watched you try and calm down, still flustered to the highest heaven after your daughter had referred to Jake as your boyfriend. “Oh you should see your face Y/n, I think it’s adorable how easily you blush.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Leah’s 4K celebration 🎊

#Leah’s 4k celebration 🎊 #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman x y/n #jake seresin x reader

[lovelybucky1]

Jonathan Crane taking the reader hostage after a drug deal gone wrong (thinking of the "buyer beware" scene from the Dark Knight Trilogy, here: https://youtu.be/Wu-Jj8xRiEI?feature=shared - like how cocky he is here xD) and I'll let you take it from here 👉👈

my inbox is open for cillian characters!

warnings: gender neutral!reader (no pronouns or physical description) mentions of drug use/addicton, kidnapping, shitty boyfriends, creep!jonathan, dubcon, implied smut, degradation

masterlist

you knew it was a bad idea going to a drug deal with your boyfriend. you hadn’t even been dating that long, there was no reason for you to let him drag you into this life. he had just wanted a little, enough for a week to help him study for finals. you tried to talk him out of it, telling him that getting high off some mystery stimulant wasn’t going to help him, but he refused to listen

it was after midnight when the two of you went out. you followed his lead, and you eventually ended up in a dark alleyway between a liquor store and a furniture store. a cliché scene, but unfortunately it was real and not some shitty movie.

you and your boyfriend waited and waited, and just as you suggested to leave, a white van pulled to the end of the alley. a man in a burlap mask climbed out of the drivers seat and approached the two of you.

“i see you brought a friend this time,” the man in the mask said. you inched behind your boyfriend, trying to keep a distance between you and the man. you wondered what he meant by this time.

“where’s the stuff?” your boyfriend asked instead of acknowledging his comment

“not a fan of a small talk i take it? fine, fine,” the man huffed. “five hundred dollars.”

“what!?” your boyfriend exclaimed. “i dont have that kind of money.”

“the price is the price.”

“last time it was only a hundred.”

“last time you got coke. this stuff is more expensive,” the man spits, and even through the mask you can imagine the sneer that’s evident in his voice. “do you want it or not?”

your boyfriend huffs and scrubs his hand down his face. “yes..”

“but?”

“but i don’t have that kind of money.”

the man stands still, almost unnaturally so for a moment before turning to look at you. the only visible part of his face is his eyes, and his stare chills you to the bone.

“i think we can come to some kind of an arrangement,” he says, looking bad at your boyfriend. “i don’t usually trade, but you’ve been a loyal customer for a while now.”

“what do you want?” your boyfriend asks, and there’s a sick feeling in your stomach that tells you exactly what he wants.

“them,” the masked man says, pointing a long, thin finger at you.

you gasp in horror and cling to your boyfriend, but he doesn’t offer any comfort. “they’ll cover all of it?”

the man chuckles. “i’ll even give you a discount on your next purchase.”

your stomach churns. how could your boyfriend actually consider giving you to this lunatic just for some drugs?

“okay,” your boyfriend says, extending his hand for the man to shake, but he doesn’t. your boyfriend then grabs you and pushes you forward towards the man.

“what the fuck? let me go, asshole! you can’t fucking do this to me!” you shout, but neither man seem to care

the man grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face him. you’re looking right at his mask, and from this close, you can see bits of his skin through the holes in the fabric. you struggle against his hold but his grip is firm.

“what a pretty thing,” he says. he then reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a vile of clear liquid. he hands it to your boyfriend with a chuckle. “buyer beware.”

the man takes you by the wrist and drags you towards the van, ignoring your protests and screams for help. you shouldn’t be surprised that no one came to help, though. this is gotham, after all.

the man slides the door to the van open and pushes you inside, sending you tumbling onto the vehicle’s floor. he climbs in after you and shuts the door behind him, putting you in complete darkness.

through the car door, you can hear muffled screams of terror coming from outside. you shake with fear and you feel the lump in your throat growing as the reality of the situation hits you.

suddenly, a light turns on and you can see the inside of the empty van, save for the man that sits in front of you.

“would you like me to take off my mask?” he asks. you’re not sure what you want. the mask is frightening, but you’re afraid that what lies underneath is even worse. “not a talker, huh?”

the man pulls off his mask anyway, and reveals an unmarred face. he has sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline, plush lips and piercing eyes. if it wasn’t for the mask and the kidnapping, you’d think he was a regular guy. an attractive guy.

the man grins at you as he watches you take in his appearance. clearly he knows he’s good looking, because he preens at the attention.

“since we’ll be spending a lot of time together, why don’t you tell me your name?”

you dont answer, instead you lean back against the wall, trying to stay away from him. unfortunately, he leans forward so your attempts were futile.

“i’ll go first. my name is jonathan, but you can call me whatever you want,” he smirks

“asshole,” you spit.

“this is the part where you tell me your name.”

again, you refuse to answer. the less he knows about you the better.

jonathan sighs. “it wouldn’t take me much effort to figure it out. but unless you want me to uncover every single detail of your life, identify, dirty secrets… i suggest you tell me.”

you tell him, gritting your name out between your teeth. he grins back at you, all teeth and he looks like a predator about to eat his prey.

“i’m sure you know that i didn’t trade you for my very expensive formula just to learn your name”

“what are you going to do to me?” you ask, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice

“so eager,” he licks his bottom lip. “i was thinking we could get to know each other a little better.”

jonathan places his hand on your thigh and you flinch, which makes him chuckle.

“i’ll scream,” you say.

jonathan leans close to your face. “and no one will hear you,” he spits. “even if they did, do you think they’d give a shit? you know how many people are murdered in this city every day? no one would bat an eye at a stupid little slut screaming for help in an alleyway. hell, they probably won’t even notice you’re gone.”

his harsh words make tears well up in your eyes. you try to fight them back, not wanting to cry in front of him, but before you can stop them, they’re spilling down your cheeks.

“you poor little thing,” he says, tone now gentle as he strokes your cheek, wiping away your tears. you can’t help but lean into his touch. his hand is large and comforting, and his fingertips are cool on your hot cheeks. “let me make you feel better.”

before you can answer, jonathan is leaning in and pressing his soft lips to yours. you resist at first, but when he deepens the kiss, you melt into it. he’s dominant, claiming your mouth for his own as he explores you with his tongue, and for some reason, you let him.

he finally breaks the kiss and looks at you with wide, lust-blown pupils. “we’re going to have lots of fun together.”

his hand creeps towards your groin, but you slap his hand away. he grabs your wrists in either hand and holds you tightly so you can’t move them. “you’re not going to stockholm syndrome me,” you say.

“oh, of course not. it’s much more fun when you hate me. i’d much rather you struggle than give in.”

his tone sparks fear inside you, but along with that fear comes a strange pang of arousal.

“i’m going to break you,” he grins, pushing you back against the van wall.

part 2!

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane headcanon #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #nolanverse #cillian murphy #cillian murphy headcanon #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader

[tobyislame]

Hi this is awkward s/o person again, you have fueled my toby brain and I'd like to make another request (if you're willing)

What would he be like with his s/o on Halloween? Does he dress up with them, get candy, or maybe stay home and watch scary movies with them? And very important question...if he dresses up, who would he dress up as?

toby rogers x reader: HALLOWEEN EDITION!!!!

welcome back friend!!! i will always be willing i love your requests!! OHOHOHO i am going to get soo silly with this one

- toby goes fucking BALLISTIC over halloween oh my god. it's the only time of the year where he can go into town and just be normal. everyone's got masks on, everyone's donning costumes, so he blends in like butter on bread. being able to exist in a public space without so much as a dirty look is fucking elating, it's one of the only graces of normalcy that he gets and he milks the opportunity for everything its got. what most would treat like any other day, he treats like a paragon. for one night he isn't toby rogers, wanted dead or alive - he's just some guy.

- he's suuuper fucking annoying about it too. he wants to do ALL the halloween stuff and he WILL drag you along with him whether you want it or not. his mansion buds aren't exempt from this treatment either no one is safe

- before night falls and the real fun begins, you guys are staying in and he's making SURE you have a good day. he's got those cheap halloween cookies in the oven (you know the ones they got pumpkins on em), his place is done up with lights and tacky dollar store decorations, and he's got a pot of apple cider simmering on the stove that mixes with the woodsy smell of his cabin just fucking beautifully. he tries really hard.

- he gets really fucking into it, and you can't help but find his admittedly childlike excitement over it a little endearing. if you ever commented on it, about how he hardly gets this excited over anything else, he'd probably just get all weirdly defensive and dismissive over it. he's been this way about it since he was a kid, never really grew out of it. even after everything.

- he's putting out a SPREAD of treats for you guys: candy corn, caramel corn, the works. can't have it any other way if you're marathoning slashers. there's a sort of unmentionable effort he puts into it with the halloween paper plates he goes out of his way to get (steal), one of those little details that puts this subdued warmth in your chest. he wants to make everything nice for you. he wants for you to have good things.

- you two. on his pilled up couch. grandpa sweaters. steaming apple cider in thrifted (stolen) mugs. flannel blanket. crackling embers from the log burner. oh yeah baby

- he makes halloween movie watchlists. oh yeah he's serious about this. he only really likes the kind of stuff you can snag off rental store shelves: sleepaway camp for eye candy (we need more slutty slutty men in horror flicks), hellraiser but only the 1987 one, texas chainsaw massacre but only the 1974 one (he's got a crush on leatherface that he'll never admit to anyone or himself), the thing is his fucking FAVORITE horror movie of all time, throw the final destinations in there just for fun, stuff like that. saw movies are his guilty pleasure. even with you, he tries to be some hard-ass and play it off when he gets all spooked and jumpy, though the way he clings to you just a little tighter says something else.

- yea this man has split skulls and gotten brain matter stuck in his hair and horror movies still scare him

- now the most important question: costumes.

- ok i have two visions for what he'd be and in both events he's forcing you to dress up with him: for one i can totally see him throwing on some ferris bueller getup and dragging you along as either sloane or cameron, or y'all are going as bill and ted and he's calling dibs on bill (so he has an excuse to wear a crop top it's totally only for the costume). if you refuse to dress up he will not shut up about how you're "no fun" until you give in

- he also uses the holiday as an opportunity to terrorize the general public. you guys are hiding out in corn mazes and jumping out at whatever poor soul happens to walk by like some surprise scare actor, pretending to be ghosts to scare off the kids who think hanging out at cemeteries makes them cool. he's the village menace. genuinely the HOA puts up a sign saying look out for this guy

- he takes you "trick or treating" but with the biggest quotations ever. he'll go around to the houses that just have bowls of candy out with a sign that says "please take one" or something and straight up just take the bowl

- when he isn't having (mostly) harmless fun and treating the townspeople like his plaything, he's treating you to some good wholesome traditional halloween activities, and he's a massive sucker for those. like, no fucking question about it he is dragging your ass to the pumpkin patch. if he's lucky he can get a five finger discount on some caramel apples for you two. of COURSE he's hauling some pumpkins home for you guys to carve, even if he'll just inevitably leave them to rot on his porch but he SWEARS he'll throw them out soon he SWEARS

- he insists on going to at least one haunted house even though he's the one that always gets you two kicked out for clocking scare actors. he's banned from most of them

- at some point in the night you'll probably end up crashing some college house party and, even though they scare him shitless, nothing makes him feel more like a guy than standing around with a red solo cup in his hand. he isn't there to make friends anyway (god knows he has no clue how), he's the one that just kinda pets the dog the entire time then leaves

- at the very end of day you guys are falling asleep tangled up in each other on the couch, smoke hanging in the air and the dvd screensaver bouncing around on the tv screen

#hes just a guy man idk what 2 say #he gets to hav a little humanity as a treat #ticci toby #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers #toby rogers x reader #creepypasta #tobyhcs #tobyxreader

[neonghostlights]

The Future

Warnings: death, blood, angst

“So you read palms?” You heard a voice say above the chatter of the Hawkins Winter Festival.

You had a booth decorated in red and green to keep up with the booths surrounding you but with a big handmade sign that read ‘Palm Readings $5’.

You looked up to see Eddie breaking away from his friends. He was one of the only people besides the few curious souls to not shoot you dirty looks from across the gym. You knew palm readings were controversial, especially among some of the crowds of Hawkins. Even though the palm reading aspect was a little of a facade for you, your psychic gifts were truly real.

Eddie slapped a worn five dollar bill on the table and threw himself in the chair infront of you. He laid his palm out before him with a smirk.

“Read away, sweetheart.”

You had known Eddie through school and despite his outgoing personality and his efforts to always speak to you, you never became more than acquaintances for some reason.

You graduated. He didn’t. This was your first time seeing him since leaving school two years ago.

“Hmmm…” You hummed, taking his large hand in yours. His rings brushed against the palm of your hand, sending tingles up your arm. You trailed your finger along the lines in his hands, feeling the dry, cracked skin and the callouses from the years of guitar playing.

You closed your eyes when the first vision rocked your world a die rolling across a board, cheering, a red guitar and a pretty girl. You could feel how Eddie felt through the visions, how it felt like for a day he was on top of the world.

Then the visions turned so sinister it made you feel ill. Bones cracking, police lights, twisted monsters that you had never seen before, deformed bats ripping through flesh, and Eddie lying on the dark ground choking on his own blood.

You dropped Eddie’s hand, a whoosh of air sucking down your throat as you took a deep breath.

“So what do you think? Am I gonna be a super rich rockstar?” Eddie asked, blinking at you. He was clueless to what was held in his future and the thought made you even sicker.

You stared at him for a moment trying to figure out how to tell him the disaster that it was in store for him.

“Y-yeah, Eddie,” you lied through your teeth, the words barely coming out.

“Yes!” He cheered, pumping a fist in the air. “Hey, I’ve got to go but we should catch up sometime’l he said as he stood, a happy smile on his face like you had told him you won the lottery.

You slid the five dollar bill back towards him.

“This one was on the house,” you said with a fake smile, biting back the tears.

He thanked you as he shoved the bill in his wallet and jogged off to catch up with his friends.

You packed your things up, not wanting to see anymore futures for the night, no matter how happy they might be.

The guilt ruined you. Because Eddie Munson was going to die. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst

[howtofightwrite]

Do heist stories still work in the modern world, especially the developed world? More and more wealth these days seems to be intangible and electronic, and more and more of the physical stuff that's still valuable is marked and traceable so that even if you take, it's hard to spend or unload it anywhere. What are macguffins that a thief in today's world could still physically steal today and realistically hope to profit from (without the profiting getting him caught)?

Heists still happen in the modern world. Hell, the entire NFT “economy” crashed last year as a result of a multiple heists. The Axie Infinity hack last year saw over $600 million worth of crypto tokens stolen. There have been many, many, famous heists, and there is no sign of them slowing down anytime soon.

So, in the vague sense of, “is it realistic?” It happens today, in the real world.

What gets stolen? Anything of sufficient value is a potential target. Art is one of the classic examples, and it remains a tempting target. Any liquid asset is tempting, and no matter how good the tracking is, chances are, someone will find a way to defeat it. In theory, crypto tokens are impossible to scrub, as the entire history of that token will be publicly logged on the block chain... so, thieves were using places like Tornado Cash to launder their cryptocurrency. (Incidentally, the US Treasury has sanctioned Tornado Cash, as of August last year.)

How realistic is it to get away with a heist? There are a lot of unsolved heists. Both, of physical items, and also with a lot of crypto thefts in the last few years. Some of the latter are believed to have been the product of state actors (read: Hacker groups believed to be working for authoritarian states with few extradition treaties.)

Art theft is alive and well. Now, I'm not an expert on laundering stolen paintings, however, from the ones that have been found, a lot find their way into private collections. Art collectors, and brokers who aren't particularly bothered with the legality of a given piece will move stolen art. It's not going to command the prices it would on the open market. (If someone estimates a stolen painting as worth four million dollars, expect that the thieves will get considerably less than that when they fence it, and while the fence will make enough to justify their risk, they're probably not going to be raking in millions either. Once it's made its way to a new owner, it will likely go up on a wall in a private gallery, or get carefully stored in a vault, and never seen again by the outside world for decades (or longer.)

Of course art theft can also be sculptures, books, or really anything else.

When it comes to other things, any liquid asset is a potential target for a heist. Cash, precious metals, and gem stones, are probably the most obvious examples, though, certainly not the only options.

The heist is, generally, a fairly consistent (if modular) structure.

It starts with identifying a vulnerable asset. The reason for the vulnerability may be important for the story, but not for the genre itself. This may be as simple as, “the asset exists,” and the PoV character learns of it, or it could be a situation where an exploitable flaw in the electronic tracking for the item is identified.

Once that's happened, then the ringleader starts assembling a team of specialists (and, amusingly, it is almost always specialists), to fill necessary roles in the heist. Usually this is a mix of technical specialists, social specialists, and at least some muscle.

So, assembling the team is something very specific to the formula, and not reflected in reality. A lot of real world heists simply need bodies, and prefer to have as few people as possible involved. The reasons are twofold. First, the less people involved, the less ways the resulting cash has to be split. Second, the fewer people involved, the fewer people that can lose their nerve and screw up, or rat their partners out to the police.

Once the team has assembled and they have a plan (this is usually hammered out along with the recruitment phase of the story, though that doesn't make a lot of sense when you step back and think about it), then they identify the preceding steps that need to be completed before executing the heist. This involves prepwork, sometimes smaller thefts to obtain the resources they need, and other necessary activities. (Again, this is more of a formula consideration, than a strictly realistic one. Especially the perpetration of earlier crimes. Those crimes can easily result in errors that would lead law enforcement to identify the heist before it occurred, and also help with identifying the thieves. To be fair, this is sometimes handled intelligently while staying within the formula to build tension. As the police close in on the team before they've even gotten started.)

After this, the team goes to execute the heist. Expect several things to fail simultaneously, with members of the team scrambling to salvage the heist. So, I don't want to harp on this too much, but this is another one of those places where the formula structure is extremely unrealistic. When looking at real heists, these kinds of fumbles will usually either botch the heist on the spot or provide the police with the threads they need to find the perpetrators. From a narrative perspective, it makes sense, it help build tension moving into the climax. So, while it's not realistic, that's not the point.

Once the team has the item, then they need to extract with it. Sometimes you'll see this skimmed over, but, getting the thing you're stealing away from the people trying to arrest the thieves is a somewhat important consideration. Generally speaking, yeah, a loud extraction with gunfights and car chases is going to end with the police response scaling to the point where escape is impossible. Also, generally speaking, most writers have a difficult time keeping stealth sequences tense, especially when their instinct is to transition into action.

Once they're out, lot heist stories end. The thieves, “won,” and the climax has played out. From a writing perspective, this makes sense. They won, and everything from here is going to be downhill. The team will break up. The actual process of fencing the stolen goods are going to be fairly dry, and, alternately, the process of laundering any cash they may have stolen isn't going to be that interesting either. There might be some lingering character threads to resolve, but the story is over, at least until you start another.

The main purpose for dragging a story beyond the heist is if you're setting up a tragedy. Probably with the police hunting them down for whatever errors they made along the way. I know I've cited it before, but Michael Mann's Heat (1995) is an excellent example of how the heist structure can be turned into a tragedy. (It's also a rare case that reworks a lot of the formula into something more realistic.)

On the whole, I'd say the heist genre is as relevant today as it's ever been. The specific stumbling blocks your characters will encounter are different. That always changes, and your ability to tune your story to your setting is always important. From a strictly mechanical perspective, there's no difference from your character accidentally leaving his driver's license behind at the scene of the heist, and failing to identify a tracker concealed in the stolen object. Both of them create a direct line from the crime back to that character. In a very real sense, a lot of the particulars for how this plays out is simply flavor. If you want your heist to be a techno-thriller, then you can absolutely do that, though you will probably have to spend quite a bit of time studying modern security methods and technology, but you can do that.

-Starke

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#how to fight write #Starke answers #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #writing heists #heists

[gabessquishytum]

So we’ve seen a lot of Mafia AU stuff, but may I add my Mob Collections Department Hob to the mix?

Morpheus’ heart flutters a little in his chest when he opens the door one day to a stranger, a gentle professor-looking guy with a messenger bag slung across his chest. But then the man slips his hand into the bag and pulls out a crowbar. His deep chocolate eyes go hard as he steps over the threshold, and Morpheus instinctively retreats.

He knows exactly who this must be. This is the guy who breaks your fucking kneecaps or legs or fingers or whatever when you can’t pay back what you’ve borrowed.

Morpheus knew he shouldn’t’ve gone to a Mob loan shark to pay for Art School, but his family wouldn’t help him get a “useless” degree, wouldn’t cosign the loans, and he won’t be 24 till the end of this year, so he can’t even be considered independent! What the fuck else was he supposed to do?!

The stupid thing is, his heart is still fluttering.

Actually, it’s fluttering harder. There's a distinct possibility that Morpheus’ circulatory system is deeply confused and currently mistaking terror for arousal.

“I… I’m an artist,” Morpheus stammers. Maybe he can live without functional kneecaps, but if this guy smashes his fingers, he’ll be destroyed.

Hob nods, casually resting the crowbar against the back of his own neck as he looks around. He’s in no rush. His target is a skinny pale thing that Hob is pretty sure he could break across his knee if he had to. He hopes he doesn’t have to. Sometimes just walking in the front door is enough to get people scrambling for the cash they “forgot” to pay. Though… this poor guy might not be so lucky. The man Hob’s been sent after today — what was his fancy name? Morpheus?  — lives in a nearly empty studio apartment, entirely furnished with vivid canvases and one fold-out mattress on the floor. Hob reaches back to lock the door while he takes in the expansive scenes of… some fantasy world? It’s like nothing he’s ever seen. A dreamy mix of magical creatures, starry galaxies, keen eyed ravens, and glittering abstractions. 

Well, maybe if he’d gone into graphic design — made some boring logos or something — he’d’ve been able to pay his bills.

Morpheus is madly tallying his resources in his brain.

He’s got about 18$ coming in from Patreon. If he does a sale on prints, he might be able to move a few extra, but the profit would be less… He’s already skipped anything fresh at the grocery store this week, subsisting on spaghetti, diced tomatoes, and baked beans — the only things the calories-per-dollar calculation would allow. 

No matter how he does the math, it comes up short. 

When the man takes a silent step toward him, Morpheus panics. His mind goes utterly blank. His heart is still doing it’s fucking stupid thing. 

He kisses the man.

Hob’s used to this. Plenty of people try to pay their debts with their carnal talents. He’s not usually interested. The problem is this: Morpheus is hot. The kiss is deep and warm and… feels oddly real? Like genuinely passionate? Morpheus’ long fingers send tantalizing chills through Hob’s skin. Now, the broke artist is sliding to his knees, and when he looks up, his pupils are so thick with arousal that his blue eyes are almost black.

Sigh. 

Fine. He can suck Hob’s cock this one time, and Hob will take care of this payment out of his own pocket. He gets paid well and is good at his job — people like him, he's not your typical goon, he's pleasant until he needs to be otherwise, and gives them every chance to search the couch cushions, so to speak. So the cash isn’t much to him. But in this business, paying other people’s debts is a bad habit to get into. Anyone would go broke doing that. 

But Morpheus’s lips feel so good, and Morpheus is, like, into it. Like laving Hob’s balls and working his fingers into his cleft and over his asshole. He opens his throat so Hob can really ram himself down there. And by the time Hob comes (gritting his teeth & trying/failing to tell himself it’s not that good), he actually feels kinda bad that he’s gotten such a good deal on a quality blow job.

Two weeks later, Hob is resolved to be the consummate professional — strictly cracking bones or collecting cash, whichever’s appropriate, but definitely not getting off on the clock.

But Morpheus opens the door without hesitation, and he’s wearing black joggers, slung low on his jutting hips, and… a lacy body suit that plunges almost to his naval, is so high cut it frames said hips, and is sheer enough in the right places that his pale rose nipples poke through deliciously.

SIGH.

Fucking fine. 

Hob can bend Morpheus over the counter and fuck him hard this one time. But he makes sure to get in a few good hard spanks on that creamy ass. Hob’s not completely derelict in his duties, and this is an enforcement job.

(This is not even remotely the deterrent he hopes it is. For the next two weeks, every time Morpheus squirms as he sits on his bare hard floor as he paints, he will think of Hob’s sharp hands. Even when the pain fades, he will recall it acutely in his imagination as he strokes himself.)

And Hob pays Morpheus’s second installment.

It might surprise you to learn that the interest on a Mob loan shark’s loan is… not exactly competitive. By the third time Hob visits, the amount owed has barely gone down, thanks to sky-high rates that would put the payday lenders to shame. The third payment would be massive for anyone, but for a starving artist it’s catastrophic. 

But Morpheus is creative and determined to give Hob the full value. 

This time, Hob spends the entire night on Morpheus’s folding mattress on the floor discovering new ways to come undone in the artist’s clever hands and pulling Morpheus apart in turn. (Figuratively.) Morpheus begs to take his punishment from the sharp sting of Hob’s hands again, and Hob turns his backside beet red as every moan and cry from Morpheus’ lips goes right to his dick until he’s jerking himself off and coming on Morpheus’s back, marking him like he’s Hob’s own. Like neither of them belong to some cranky old Mob boss, but it’s just them, signing their names into each other’s skin.

By morning, they’re lying in each other’s arms and just talking. 

Morpheus tells Hob about going to Art School even after his parents tried to force him into something useful. He confesses the difficulties of making a living as an artist and on the internet especially. It’s not as easy as people think. He would do something else, but the pictures in his head just need to come out. Exhausted and trembling, he speaks of the way they grow in his unconscious, expanding to take up everything else, bringing chaos and cracks in his foundations if he doesn’t give them form and allow them an orderly outlet on the canvas.

Hob holds Morpheus tight to his chest as if that could ease the pain there, and he opens up, too. Hob didn’t used to be this. He was a History professor! He has no right forcing other people to make money! But then his wife had gotten ill. And this doctor — an arrogant prick who’d never taken anyone’s concerns seriously, who had years of secret complaints against him but was too much of a “star” to get fired — botched the surgery. And Eleanor and their unborn babe had died on the table. Hob had gotten a — frankly insulting — settlement from the hospital. Then he’d hunted down the doctor (who’d had connections in some shadowy parts of town — he hadn’t become a star by being good at medicine), and taken his revenge. The underworld had taken notice. 

And this paid a lot better than adjunct work.

Plus, unlike at the university, Hob’s skills are appreciated. Most humans of the twenty-first century are a lot easier to find and pick apart than the evidence on post-plague upheavals in labor relations in the fourteenth century, and Hob spent seven years doing that for his PhD. He’s persistent and meticulous. Not sloppy like some enforcers. Hob knows how to cause damage that hurts like hell but heals well. He’s done his research. (Something he’s finally getting paid for after over a decade in academia!)

Hob doesn’t even like debt collecting! It’s not his calling. When he’d been slogging through History essays, he’d fantasized about opening a pub. Sometimes he still does — his skills could come in useful breaking up bar fights, throwing out the jerks, keeping things peaceful. 

As the sun comes up, he kisses Morpheus softly on his lips. 

He pays the massive third installment.

On the fourth visit, Hob slips his hand into the messenger bag again and Morpheus’ heart thuds in something like fear. But instead of the crowbar, he pulls out a thick, wooden paddle. When his eyes rise to meet Morpheus’, there’s only a little of that old hardness left but mostly a question. Morpheus moans at the sight, the blood already shooting to his cock.

He really should borrow money from the Mob more often. 

He lets Hob bend him over the counter and ply the paddle all over his ass till he’s crying and begging for release. And then Hob is fucking him and biting into the meat of his shoulder and stroking him hard and fast as he thrusts against Morpheus’ bruised ass. They wind up tangled in the sheets long past morning. (The fourth payment is even bigger than the third.)

At some point, as Morpheus is boiling spaghetti for two, Hob decides fuck this job. 

Of course, it’s the Mob, so he can’t just put in his two week’s notice & shit on the boss’s desk like decent people do. So later, Hob — whose a genuinely nice guy when he isn’t cracking your skeleton & has built up his own little following within the business — pulls a Red Wedding and eliminates the entire current leadership. Fuck those guys. They were assholes anyway. People are happier now. (Anyone who wouldn’t be happy was invited to the wedding.)

Hob doesn’t actually want to take on the responsibility of a large crime syndicate, so he hands the reins over to a trusted buddy. Then he and Morpheus get the fuck outta there and start new lives in the big city where Morpheus can do real art shows and Hob can run his pub and feed Morpheus only the freshest food and lots of it, and every beating is strictly desired and thoroughly appreciated and never involves a crowbar.

BESTIE THIS IS SO GOOD!! DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW GOOD THIS IS. This is the most amazing mini fic.

Ngl I wish Hob would come around here with his "crowbar"

Honestly I love this concept of Mob Hob so much. I feel like it works so well with his canon storyline. It's not hard to imagine him reluctantly (but very effectively) smashing in kneecaps. And yeah he feels bad about it, but hey. Hob has had his own struggles and he wants to keep a roof over his head.

But he's not immune to a pretty little Dream, huh? He's not a nice guy, he just wants to get his dick wet. He's not in love or anything. I mean, he's not gonna shake up his entire life and risk everything by going up against the gang he's supposed to be working for.

.......right? 👀❤

#cowardly--throwaway #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw violence #mob au

[beomcoups]

Now that’s 90′s- A Seventeen Collab

Hosted by @beomcoups​ and @mingsolo​​

Drive in theaters... mall hopping on the weekends... confessing your watching TRL and Daria on MTV. The 90s were all about being fresh, nostalgic and keeping it real. Who better to star in this 90′s collab other than SVT?  Below are the authors that are going to be taking us through the decade, one Seventeen boy at a time. 

S. Coups

→ Cry-Baby by @duhnova

→ pairing: biker!choi seungcheol x fem!reader

→ genre: fluff, angst, opposites attract, drama, kind of college au, smut

→ summary: decked out in leather and riding a harley davidson like he’s got business with the devil, choi seungcheol was the talk of your small town. everyone looked down on him and when you come home for the first time since starting uni you find it hard to believe that the pouty lipped kid you tossed off the merry-go-round when you were six was some slick haired delinquent. → rating: 18+

Jeonghan

→ [he Emperor and I] by @flurrys-creativity

→ pairing: emperor!Jeonghan x Reader

→ genre:  royal au, the king and I 1999 animation au, s2l, romance, fluff, humour, angst, eventual smut

→ summary: You travel as a teacher to Caratland on the request of emperor Jeonghan. Though the emperor wasn't what you expected, neither was your stay in the foreign land. Especially with Jeonghan using every chance he got to tease you. 

→ rating: 18+

Joshua

→ [Stop, Kiss] by @hobeemin

→ pairing: joshua hong x poc!(f) reader

→ genre: romance, angst, drama, fluff, college au, 90s au (based on Can’t Hardly Wait)

→ summary: joshua wasn’t what you called popular back in high school, in fact, he was practically invisible. what happens when he runs into his childhood crush in college after growing into his looks? awhole lot of shenanigans ensue.

→ rating: 18+

Jun

→ Ugh! As If!  by @ wongyuseokie ​ → pairing: College Student Junhui x Female Reader

→ genre: established relationship, pwp, fluff, smut

→ summary: Your boyfriend decided to take you into a drive-in movie for date night, only problem? He looks scrumptious, and now your task is to make sure he knows just how good he looks, without the others knowing.

→ rating: 18+ 

Hoshi

→ [Caller #17] by @beomcoups​​

→ pairing: jock!Hoshi x college radio dj!reader (femme)

→ genre: 90’s au. strangers to lovers au, fluff, angst,

→ summary: You could name 10 things that you hate about him easily. But when you bond together over music, those things slowly turn into love instead.

→ rating: 18+

Wonwoo

→ [PAUSE + PLAY] by @mingsolo​​

→ pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader

→ genre: 90s au, fluff, humor

→ summary: Your new job at the VHS store starts to get interesting when a handsome young man comes to the counter with a bunch of interesting picks.

→ rating: nc17

Woozi

→ You Drive Me Crazy (But It Feels Alright) by @wooahaeproductions​

→ pairing: Lee Jihoon x Female Reader

→ genre: angst, fluff, smut

→ summary: You and your neighbor, Jihoon used to be best friends as kids. As time passed, unfortunate events and the cliques of junior high tore the two of you apart. Several years later, you find yourselves in the same college but the two of you actively avoid each other and some people would even say you were enemies. As fate would have it, breakups lead you both to wonder if there's ever a chance to rekindle the friendship.

→ rating: 18+ read here

DK

→ 60 Billion by @onlyseokmins pt. 1 pt. 2​

→ pairing: Lee Seokmin x Female Reader

→ genre: smut, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, enemies to comrades to lovers!au, angst, fluff

→ summary:  How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

→ rating: 18+

Mingyu

→ Agent K by @milfgyuu​

→ pairing: Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader

→ genre: Men In Black!AU, 90’s!AU, Humor, Action, Romance (smut?)

→ summary: You’re the agency's top recruit five years running and your reward? Getting stuck with a rookie as your new partner. Not only is he a walking disaster but he’s also the director’s grandson. You’re tasked with both keeping him alive and in line when he tries to sweet talk his way into melting your icy professional exterior. 

→ rating: 18+

Minghao

→ BREAK AND RETURN by @cheolism

→ pairing: brother's-bandmate!minghao x f!reader

→ genre: 90s au, smut, fwb/fucking your brother's friend 

→ summary: last week minghao did what he thought was best and put an end to your fling. he sees you again before band practice and can't help but give in to his desires.

→ rating: 18+

Seungkwan

→ once upon a summer by @the-boy-meets-evil​

→ pairing: Seungkwan x fem!reader

→ genre: 90s!au, summer love | fluff and some angst

→ summary: Every summer kind of goes the same. The population of your usually sleepy beach town doubles and you bust your ass to make enough money to last through the slow season. But a new face blows into town like a whirlwind and he’s determined to catch your eye. Only one problem: he’s here for the summer and you’re married to this town. 

→ rating:18+

Vernon

→ Natsukashii by @flurrys-creativity​

→ pairing: Vernon x Reader (probably fem)

→ genre: Jurassic Park AU, 90s AU, acquaintances to lovers/distant friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst

→ summary: It should have been a fun weekend trip but after the boat got caught by a storm and crashed on one of the dinosaur islands, you got separated from the group. You nearly despaired until Vernon found you.

→ rating: sfw and 15+

Dino

→ Four Page Letter by @shuadotcom​​

→ pairing: Lee Chan x Fem!Reader

→ genre: Fluff, smut, mild angst

→ summary:  Chan has always been just one of your step-brother’s best friends. He’s also been in love with you for as long as everyone remembers, but you never paid him much mind - that is until you decide to return home after many years away and you see the man he’s become. He goes from being your little brother’s best friend to being the perfect man for you in a matter of months. Now the questions are who wants who more and will either of you do anything about your feelings?

→ rating: 18+

#that's so 90s #Seventeen collab #svt collab #svt fanfic #seventeen fics #k-vanity #kvanity #thekpopuniverse #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #my collabs

[beanibon]

Can I request for Wolfwood with an AFAB bimbo reader or maybe an air-headed reader smut? It's okay if you feel uncomfortable or don't want to write it.

Of course that's okay! Honestly this sounds like so much fun to write!

TW: rough sex, angry sex, praise and degradation (mostly Wolfwood pouting on how reader was oblivious to his advances, nothing overly degrading),

Nicholas was furious, it'd been weeks and you still hadn't taken notice of his advances. He was growing impatient, no amount of sympathetic encouragement from Vash or Meryl could get him to calm down. He was getting antsy.

Here you were dragging Nicholas into a store that caught your attention, arms wrapped around one of his. You drove him insane, constantly wrapping yourself against him, yet couldn't get it through your head when he'd flirt back.

You took everything as a compliment, strangers catcalling you was a personal pet peeve of Wolfwood's, the way you'd wave at them, thank them. He wanted to strangle you at times, maybe even fuck some sense into you. Honestly what was it going to take to get it through your thick skull that he liked you?

A honey laced laugh dragged him from his unholy thoughts, dark eyes locked onto you as the store clerk obviously flirted with you. But yet again, you took no notice, just sweetly telling the old fuck how kind he was.

Nicholas had, had enough.

Stalking towards you like prey to a predator, an enraged expression that caused the shop attendant to cower before the Undertaker, he grabbed what you had in your hands, slamming a couple of double dollar bills on the counter. You blinked, before turning and smiling up at Nicholas, his ears red at your expression.

"Thank you Wolfwood! You honestly didn't have to pay for that, I have my own money." Nicholas was about to pop a vein.

He offered you grin, teeth grinding together at the way you sweetly waved to the old man behind the counter, bidding the pervert farewell. With the Punisher slung over his shoulder, Nicholas snaked an arm around your waist, leading you into a quiet alleyway. You were clearly oblivious to his intentions, admiring the necklace he had impatiently bought you.

Driving the cross into the ground, Nicholas bent over your small form, looking at the silver chained pendant with boredom. His hips pressed firmly into your ass, causing you to turn around and look at him.

"Wolfwood?" He hummed in response, awaiting for you to catch on to what he was doing. "If you wanted a closer look, you could've asked, it's beautiful isn't it!" You proudly showed his the necklace, and Nicholas was about to snap, eye twitching as he looked at the cheap jewellery.

"Yeah, it's real pretty sweetheart, but I think I different kind of jewellery would look beautiful around that neck of yours." Wolfwood flashed you his signature smirk, except this time it was laced with insatiable lust.

Tilting your head up at the man, your brows furrowed so adorably as you thought, Nicholas getting his hopes up at your clear calculations. Only for several bricks to drop their weight upon him, crushing him under how innocently stupid you were.

"I don't think there's anything else that goes around people's necks, chokers maybe, but they're a form of necklace though." You look at Nicholas, confusion etched in your features as he was leaning against a wall, hands rubbing at his face. Oh how he wanted to bang his head against that damned wall over and over again.

Straightening up, inhaling as he turned, he walked towards you. Leaning in close, so that you could smell the tobacco on his breath. "I like you sweetheart."

Your eyes lit up, smiling as you jumped up and down on the spot. "I like you too Wolfwood!" Nicholas raised a brow, hesitant to express excitement. "You're the greatest friend anyone could ask for!" There it was.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Nicholas groaned, dragging the hand down his face as stared at your sunshine smile. If you weren't going to get it anytime soon, he might as well speak a language you'd be sure to understand.

Before you could process what was happening, Wolfwood slammed your body against the wall, pinning you beneath his form. Dark eyes glared you down, drinking in the way your body didn't shy away from his.

"Wolfwood? What's wrong?" Your voice was meek, worry etched on your face for him, despite the predicament you were in.

A smirk tugged at his lips, chuckling darkly at your annoying innocence. "You don't seem to understand what I'm saying y/n, so I'll fuck it into you. Yeah, that way you'll understand exactly what's wrong with me, and how you drive me mad at how utterly stupid you are."

"Huh? I don't unde- Wolfwood!?"

Rough hands grabbed your hips, spreading them as his knee dug into your sex. His actions weren't soft, dragging your hips against his upper leg in a rushed attempt to get you soaked for him. Only it worked, you could already feel yourself leaking juices at the harsh stimulation, hands placed on his chest.

"Like I said sweetheart, gonna fuck some sense into you." Nicholas smirked, removing his knee to rip your underwear off, unzipping his fly to ease the tension of his hardening cock. "Now be a good girl, will ya?"

Aligning his dick with you entrance, you shuddered as it entered your plush folds, sucking him in as you clamped around his cock. Your legs were quickly wrapped around his waist, thrusting into you before you could adjust. Your moans urging him faster as he slammed you over and over again against the wall behind you, slamming your hips down to meet his.

"Wo-Wolfwo-"

"Nicholas."

"Ni-Nico~"

Nicholas growled, the nickname fell so prettily from your lips, driving him wild as his lips smashed against yours. His thrusts became harder, faster desperate to make you come. And it wasn't long before you did, whining against his lips as your legs quivered, coming all over his cock. A satisfied chuckle sounded from the gruff man, pulling out as he roughly fisted his cock, releasing his seed over your thighs.

Your blissful, fucked out face was what made Nicholas's face grow a smug smile, stuffing his fingers roughly into your dripping cunt. You cried out, shaking squeezed against his intruding digits.

"Good, you already want more of me. Don't worry gorgeous, soon your body will be nothing but familiar with my cock, I'm sure that's something you won't forget any time soon." He sneered, curling them cruelly until your toes curled, back arched into him.

Nicholas leaned in close, teeth grazed your skin as he chuckled against you. He'd make sure you were nothing but sure of what he was to you, and if that meant fucking you until the sun rose the next day, then so be it

"Why don't we go somewhere more private? That way, I can fuck you however I damn well please." You nodded, leaning against his shoulder.

You were in for a long, cruel night.

I tried Anon! I hope you enjoy it, Sorry it was short!

#trigun stampede #trigun #trigun smut #trigun wolfwood #nicholas d wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x you #wolfwood #nicholas d. wolfwood #nicolas d wolfwood #wolfwood x reader #wolfwood smut

[puhpandas]

And How Big The Little Things Can Be

(2,196 words)

Evan reminisces over how cold his house feels compared to Gregory's warm one, and gets some help when his emotions over it all get too much to control. Oh, and its also Halloween. 🎃

Evan has always hated the cold.

His father will keep the house at below sixty constantly. Both his father and Michael like it that way. They like the house being so cold it nips at Evan's ears even during Winter.

It's why when Evan first got the chance, he'd used the little amount of money he'd made on his own to buy a couple sweaters. His clothes had already been getting too small because of his growth spurt, but his Father wont take him to buy a new wardrobe until he physically cant fit into them anymore, or he looks ridiculous wearing clothes that rise at his stomach and choke his collar.

His Father had long since convinced their neighbors of his... feelings about the way Evan is. So when Evan had offered to do work to make money when all he had was T-Shirts and tank tops and shorts, they'd jumped at the opportunity to pay him for doing work like a 'real man'.

Since then, the cold had been a little more bearable, even though he has to wear two layers of socks and retreat to his thick comforter after school if he has no business outside.

Autumn has long since arrived, with the leaves turning shades of auburn and yellow, grass yellowing, and Evan's school library having spiderwebs and skeletons decorating its insides. His sweaters have gotten more use since the season started, with the harsh heat finally cooling until theres a pleasant breeze, the feeling of Halloween just around the corner.

But his sweaters cant stop the feeling of always having that chill in his chest when he'd hear a thump come from another place in his house, or when he'd hear a door slam, and that would signal somebody being home.

What a stark contrast that is to where he is now, warm, bundled up, and comfortable.

Hes sitting next to Gregory on that scratchy rug his house has in front of its fireplace, lights dim, the sun having long set, with a fluffy throw blanket wrapped around his shoulders and tucked neatly between his legs. He has only one hand free, just to bring the hot, piping mug of delicious hot chocolate to his mouth.

Fragments of their Halloween costumes are strewn across the floor, half-finished and homemade. It's the night before Halloween, or Halloween Eve as Gregory likes to call it, and they'd both come up with the bright idea of having matching costumes this Halloween.

They'd run around all day, jumping from store to store to gather supplies, since Gregory insisted on making their costumes from scrap. They'd already been tired when Roxy had taken them home, but still persisted and almost completely completed their costumes in one night.

Evan's eyes had been left stuttering and heavy at the end of it, shoulders sagged and body weary, but Evan hadn't felt bad. It's the first time Evans found out there can be a good kind of exhaustion. Where you've spent all day having fun, and still feel the remnants of excitement in your stomach.

They'd chosen the generic Angel, Devil, theme, but Gregory had promised him they'd have plenty of time to get through them all, someday.

It's only Evan's first Halloween since meeting Gregory, and he'd tried not to appear too affected by Gregory's words right in front of him when he'd first said them.

Never has Evan felt so... so excited for Halloween. Usually, its just the perfect opportunity for Michael to grab a one dollar mask at their local Spirit Halloween, and scare the living daylights out of Evan when he'd come back home from a good day, turning it into a worse day, because he wouldn't be able to shake the fear from his chest the rest of the night.

But this year, Evan has Gregory. Evan has people who actually treat Halloween like something fun, to look forward to, and not just as an excuse to scare him. This year, hes going trick or treating with his best friend, his family, and Evan's going to enjoy spending time with them. No looming prescense of Michael, just waiting to strike, or his Father, waiting for any excuse to comment on Evan's nature.

Its the first time he's felt excited for something like this, instead of dreadful. It's the first time Evan's been able to sit comfortably, and think of the coming days as something to look forward to, instead of something uncertain to be scared of.

It's the first time Evan's been warm, comfortable, and content in a long time.

The room is silent; save for the crackling of the fireplace and the soft music Gregory's house always seems to have playing. The only other sound is the general presence of Gregory and Roxy in the room with him.

Which is why when Evan suddenly has a wave of emotion wash over him, Gregory immediately snaps to attention from where he was nodding off when Evan starts crying.

"Evan?" Gregory asks worriedly, letting the blanket fall of his shoulders when he twists his body to face Evan. "Hey, are you okay?"

Evan shakes his head, gesturing vaguely with his hand. "Im-- I'm alright." He sniffs, and looks away when the tears keep coming, hiding his face as much as he can in his blanket covered knees. "Um, dont worry about me, please. I'm okay, I swear."

Despite looking away, Evan can still feel Gregory's hovering, worried presence at his shoulder, and Roxys watchful gaze on him.

"Did something happen?" Gregory asks, spitfiring. "Evan, if somethings wrong, can you tell me? You know I never judge you. This time is no different."

Evan shakes his head, removing his face from the blanket and facing Gregory. "Theres nothing wrong." He promises, and at the look Gregory sends him, he insists. "No, I promise! I-I dont know what's wrong, or... why I'm crying. I was happy just a few moments ago."

Gregory looks as confused as Evan feels. All Evan can do is bring the sleeve of his favorite sweater up to his cheeks and wipe the tears away, even if more follow right after.

Roxy hums, and sets the laptop she had in her lap to the side, sliding off the armchair she was sitting in to sit in front of Gregory and Evan, careful to move the headbands with a halo and devil horns they had been working on out of the way.

"Evan," She starts gently when she settles. "Are you sad right now?"

Evan's eyes widen, and he shakes his head, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. "No! I'm not." He insists. "...Which is why I'm so confused as to why I'm crying."

Roxy just tilts her head, leaning on one arm on the floor. "Okay, then let me ask you this, bud." She starts. "Have you ever cried because you were just so mad, or frustrated?"

Evan only thinks about it for a moment, his head nodding almost immediately, because he doesnt even have to mull that over. Theres been so many times where Evan would just smush his face into his pillow, and scream as loud as he could in his house. Because frustration is an emotion Evan is so used to, when Evan will wonder why Michael hates him so much.

"Yes." Evan says after a moment. "Yes, I have."

Roxy just nods, smiling that kind, but also wolfish smile of hers. "Then have you considered the idea that you might be crying because you're so happy?"

That makes Evan pause. He freezes, taking a moment for Roxys words to process as he turns them around in his head.

...It sounds awful when he thinks about it, doesnt it? The idea that he didnt even consider the idea of being happy enough to cry, because all he'd ever known is being mad, or sad enough to cry.

But that's what it is. That's what he reflects on, when for the first time, he's introduced to the idea that maybe, his emotions are just felt times two, and sadness and anger isnt the only thing he can feel intensely.

And also, that hes finally in a place where being so happy he can cry is a possibility. Is a reality.

Gregory must have noticed his intense thinking face, because then he seems to sag in relief, chuckling and shifting to get more comfortable. "So you were just so happy, that you cried?"

Evan doesnt answer for a moment, then finally tears his eyes away from the hole he was burning in the rug to look at Gregory. He nods, at first slowly, then more sure of himself. "Yeah." He sniffs, smiling. "I-I think so, yeah."

"Phew!" Gregory says exaggeratedly. "You had me worried for a second. I was afraid we somehow made you sad, or something."

Evan laughs, too, more tears pricking his eyes and following the tracks down his face, but all he does is wipe them away. "Me too." He says. "I was just confused. Because I'm not really sad around you guys."

Gregory just grins at him and grabs him in a side hug, shaking him slightly, but Roxy just chuckles, and hums again.

"Hang on." She tells them. They pause, glancing at her questioningly. "You two know how I go to the gym every Friday?"

Gregory nods, his hair tickling Evan's cheek, and Evan does too. Evan's been friends with Gregory for multiple months at this point, and he remembers Roxy talking about her weekly errand.

"Well," Roxy begins, smiling and looking pointedly at Evan. "I go to the gym because like you, Evan, I feel my emotions more intensely than other people might. But instead of it being all of them, like you, I just felt angry a lot. And it could get worse, and then I would blow up at people, or cry really hard."

Evan listens intensely, eyes wide. He nods, an invitation for Roxy to keep going, and she keeps that encouraging smile on her face. "It was like that for a long time. From when I was your age, to when I was a teenager. But it was only that way because I hadn't found my outlet yet."

Evan tilts his head. "Outlet?"

"I found out that hitting, or punching things, helps me channel my anger into one place, and let it all out without it affecting me or somebody else in a bad way." Roxy explains. "It helps to know you have a special time and place to let the emotions that build up inside of you out, so when they start to get bad before you're at that special spot, you can control them easier. Save them for when you know you'll be able to let them out."

Evan nods rapidly, soaking up every word. Hes never heard an adult talk about things he struggles with seriously before, let alone somebody who also experiences the same problem, and knows how to help. "So if I punch things, will it help me not cry so much?"

Roxy shakes her head, still smiling. "Probably not, Rockstar." She tells him, but before he can get too disappointed, keeps going. "But, we dont know. Things may not be the same for you the way they are for me, but if you try things out, eventually, you'll find the way that works best for you to let all your emotions out, so you dont blow up or they dont get uncontrollable in places you dont want them to."

Evan smiles, running the words over in his head. It's the first time theres ever been any indication that he can change, not for his family, but for himself. It's the first time Evan's felt like theres light at the end of the tunnel when it comes to his inner turmoil.

"If I could do it, you can too, Evan. My family didnt know how to help, but it was their support along with my friends' that helped me learn how to help myself."

"Well, you got us." Gregory pipes up, voice loud in Evan's ear. Gregory squeezes his shoulders a little tighter, twisting his body to be in Evans field of vision. "I'll help you find what your..." He pauses for a moment. "outlet is. I promise."

Evan smiles, moving to shift his neck to be pressed against Gregory. "Thank you." He says. To both of them. He meets Roxys eyes, and tries to express his gratitude with just his gaze.

Roxy seems to understand, because she just nods at him, as if to say 'I know you'll do great'.

"You should try punching Michael to see if thats your outlet." Gregory says. "I think that's a pretty good idea."

Evan splutters a laugh at that, and he can see Gregory grinning, too.

Evan's eyes are heavy, and sore from crying. Both from the exciting day he just had and from the emotions he just filed through, so when he let's himself lean against Gregory, body weary and cheeks littered with dried tear tracks, Gregory sits strong, and leans back as well.

Evan falls asleep like that, surrounded by warmth in more ways than one.

ao3 link

#i said it in the fic #but this is only months into their friendship #so evan hasnt developed more control over his emotions yet and that only actually starts here. #but evan is for sure already aware of how much more he likes it with gregory and his family than his own #and is close with gregory at this point #also where hes starting to bond more with other members of gregorys family #roxy was a good choice for this fic i think because i feel like with roxys obvious emotional issues #alongside self image issues they could relate!! #evan for sure feels bad about himslef for being the way he is #because hes only ever been taught that the way he is is bad or wrong or embarrassing. #but roxy being an actual adult whos been there done that who can help and takes him seriously is like. huge for him #flashlight duo #flashlight duo modern au #gregory and evan #the fazbears #pandas writes #holiday oneshot #halloween oneshot #flashlight duo oneshots #fnaf gregory #evan afton #my fics #oneshot #ficlet #fnaf fic

[bitchsister]

I am very into the idea of a Curt & Bucky modern day AU. If not for the war where do you think they would have met?

Ooohhhhu yesss I totally see them having a meetcute somewhere mundane as fuck like the grocery store. Omg…… idk why I love emphasizing Curt’s stature and blowing it out of proportion (or shrinking him so teeny tiny ) but it’s my world

Curtis is, what feels like, fifteen trillion dollars in debt.

School is doing him in, drilling his poor head into its grave day by day and the only relief he really gets these days is getting stoned out of his mind and grocery shopping in the wee hours of the night when only the shopkeep roams the isles every now and again, perhaps judging the items in his basket.

For some reason, as one might have it, his most cherished items live upon the highest shelves.

In his state, luckily for everyone, he doesn’t mind getting a little creative.

He stood on the bottom shelf, reached toward the stars and when his fingers brushed the box of cereal he so desperately needed, he knocked it backward and out of reach completely.

“Hey.” A voice rumbles behind him, so close Curtis could feel their warmth. “Uh. Do you, like, need a hand — or..“

Curt’s cheeks went red hot, a warm rush flooding his every vessel with liquid embarrassment. “No.” He huffs, jumping down from the shelf and turning toward the man who’d stood behind him, neck craned to give him a proper once over. “I like strainin’ myself to reach shit. It’s a humbling experience.”

The stranger snorted a chuckle out of his nostrils, his nose scrunched as he criticizes Curt’s taste in breakfast cereals, which he most certainly would be eating for lunch or dinner. “Lucky Charms?”

He almost extended a hand to pull them down, but stopped.

“Hey, I got Irish in my blood, big guy.” Curt was suddenly looking around for something else to climb atop, if this nosey stranger wasn’t going to be any help. “Me and Lucky are probably related somehow.” He tried reaching again, “Watch how you speak on my family.”

Bucky couldn’t stop laughing.

He doubled over, even.

He’d been so close to the floor, he found a box of Lucky Charms on the bottom shelf, the very one Curt had been putting his feet on to reach the top. “Hey,” he speaks through his laughter, reaching down to pick up a box. “Extra magical marshmallows in this one.”

“Oh,” Curtis grabs the box and stares at it, assuming it would do the trick. “Don’t you know what they say, though? Less is more, or somethin’?”

Bucky nods slowly, taking in the sight of the boy in front of him. Tired looking and tiny, sweatpants and a big fluffy New York sweater. Less is certainly more, and it’s all right in front of him. “You gotta point, New York.” He grabs the box, plops it back onto the shelf and turns himself again to a baffled Curtis. “Wanna go eat some real food?”

#💌 #curtbucky #Curt eats his ass or something after this idk #this made me realize how much I dislike writing in present tense #we’re learning things about ourselves on this eve #masters of the air #yoyo writes

[astrobei]

hi suni astrobi my beloved dear suni ❤️🫂

sending you a valentine's day prompt because i can annnnnd.

i challenge you to write miwi bc i need more miwi in my life. you can do whatever you want with this, but i want to see little baby will making a valentine's day card for his best friend, mike. bonus points if it has like paladin mike and dragons and all that other good ole fashioned dnd goodness.

hi andi andiwriteordie my beloved dear andi <3 happy valentine's day !! as a special present for you, here is my first ever attempt at writing miwi :^)

On Sunday night, Will’s mom brings home a bag of candy.

This, obviously, grabs his attention before anything else– brightly packaged somethings that crinkle loudly when his mom puts the bag down on the kitchen table. He can see them peeking out through the thin white plastic of the Melvald’s bag, and immediately perks up.

“What are those?” he asks, because it’s not rare for his mom to bring stuff back from work– especially on late nights like this, when she knows that Jonathan is busy with homework and no one’s had a chance to cook dinner, not when she’s been out all day and his dad is– well. His dad sure isn’t about to cook dinner, and Will has learned how to heat stuff up in the microwave but they’re currently out of everything that he can stick in a microwave. Will expects her to whip out a couple of TV dinners, and he kind of hopes she will, because it’s late and he’s hungry.

He peers over the long end of the table, trying to catch a glimpse, because the TV dinners don’t usually look like this– all pink and red and crinkly. His mom laughs, then holds the bag open by the handles so he can look inside. “Candy,” she says, “for your class Valentine’s Day party tomorrow.”

Will stopped listening after the word candy. He doesn’t know what Valentine’s Day is, and he doesn’t really care, because the bag is full of the brightly wrapped candies and chocolates that he saw in the store the other day when his mom took him inside. “Whoa,” he breathes out, and reaches out to stick a hand into the bag, even if just to make sure that what he’s seeing is real. A whole bag, full of candy. The wrappers crinkle some more, loud under his palm, and he pulls out a heart-shaped lollipop, flat and an almost aggressive shade of red. “Is this for us?”

“Oh, no way,” his mom laughs some more. “This much candy? All your teeth are going to fall out.”

Will grins. “My teeth are already falling out,” he says, pointing to where he’d lost his first one just a couple of weeks ago. He’s still not used to it, the strange space in his mouth where there didn’t use to be one before. He sticks the tip of his tongue into the gap there, and his mom rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

“Maybe that’s because of all the candy you ate at Halloween,” she says, and leans over to ruffle his hair. “It’s not good for you!”

“Danny in my class already lost three teeth,” Will mopes, “and he got three dollars from the tooth fairy, so maybe if mine fall out too–”

“The tooth fairy will refuse to give you money because you let your teeth rot on purpose,” Joyce says, and Will slumps into the chair next to her, pouting. “It goes against the tooth fairy laws.”

Will might only be six, but he knows that there’s no such thing as tooth fairy laws. There can’t be rules just for one person. That’s ridiculous. He tucks the lollipop from earlier into his pocket before his mom can see, though. Just in case. “What’s the candy for?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow,” his mom says, walking over to the kitchen and opening the fridge door. “Your class is having a party, and these are for your friends.”

Will frowns. “What’s– Valentine’s Day?”

“It’s a holiday about celebrating the people you love.” Joyce emerges with a loaf of bread and a few slices of cheese. “Grilled cheese okay for dinner?”

They’ve had grilled cheese for about four days in a row now, but Will doesn’t mind. His mom makes them perfect. He nods. “Yeah!” 

“You have to eat the crusts this time,” she says. “Don’t think I didn’t see you throw them away last time.”

Shoot. So close.

“Fine,” Will agrees, then leans over to pluck another candy out of the bag. It’s pink this time. He thinks it might be strawberry-flavored. Will isn’t the biggest fan of strawberry, but candy is candy after all.

“I heard that,” his mom chides, back still turned to him, as the candy wrapper crinkles loudly under his fingers. “Put the candy back, Will.”

No! So close again. Will scowls at the traitorous sweet in his hand and tosses it back in the bag. “How did you even hear that?”

“I have superpowers, remember?” Joyce points to her ears and shoots him a wink. She’s probably right, Will thinks glumly. His mom has ears on the back of her head– or whatever it is they say.

“Why do my kids in my class get candy and I don’t?” 

“They’ll give you candy too,” Joyce assured him, flipping a sandwich over in the pan. “That’s the whole point! You trade candy and Valentine’s Day cards.”

Cards? “What kind of cards?”

“You can look in the bag. I picked some of those up on the way back from work.”

Will sticks his arm bag in the bag and shuffles it around, until soft cellophane gives way to the sharp edge of cardstock. He pulls one out– “Be mine,” he reads aloud, then wrinkles up his nose in confusion. “Huh?”

“Cheesy, huh?” Joyce slides a plate in front of him, and smiles. “Speaking of cheesy–”

Dinner! Will’s stomach rumbles, and in the face of a perfectly made grilled cheese sandwich, thoughts of Valentine’s Day slip instantly out of his mind. 

—

They don’t stay out for long, though.

“Jonathan?”

Jonathan’s room door is open, and he has his back to the door, but he turns around as Will peers through the doorway. “Oh. Hey, Will.”

Will shuffles his feet, hesitating. Is this a stupid question to ask? Surely Jonathan won’t think he’s stupid. Jonathan never thinks Will is stupid, even when Will asks dumb questions or says dumb things or acts super annoying. “What’s Valentine’s Day?” he blurts out.

Jonathan raises his eyebrows. “Huh?”

Maybe Jonathan doesn’t know. That’s a weird thought, though, because Jonathan knows everything. He’s in third grade now, which seems big and grown up and far away. It’s old enough for your grade to have an actual number. Not like kindergarten, which Jonathan says is, like, zero grade. “Valentine’s Day,” Will says again. Mom had been so vague about it, and he’s still not sure what’s up with the lovey-dovey stuff. Maybe Jonathan can help. “What is it?”

“Um,” Jonathan says. “It’s– the holiday of love, I guess?”

Oh. That’s lame. “Ew,” Will says, making a face. “That’s gross.”

“Tell me about it,” Jonathan sighs. “Why are you asking?”

“I have to celebrate with my class tomorrow,” Will sighs. “And mom got candy but I’m not allowed to eat any.”

Jonathan makes a sympathetic noise. “Lame.”

“I know!” Will exclaims. “And I don’t even– love anybody. Gross.”

“Well,” Jonathan says thoughtfully, “it doesn’t have to be love love. It can be, um. Any kind of special somebody.”

“Special somebody?” That’s a weird thing to call someone. “Huh?”

“You know. Is there someone special to you? Someone you really like?”

Will likes a lot of people. His teacher is really nice. He likes mom’s boss at the store, because sometimes he lets Will pick out a piece of candy from the display. He likes Jonathan, and he likes his mom, of course. But people who are special–

“Mike,” Will decides immediately. It’s an obvious choice, because Will hadn’t ever had best friends before Mike came into his life earlier this year. They do everything together– playing at recess, eating lunch, sleeping over at each other’s house. The other kids in the class even talk about them like they’re one person– MikeandWill– which makes Will smile. It’s nice to feel like he’s a part of something. Mike is special. Mike makes him feel special.

Something funny happens to Jonathan’s face, super fast, and then it goes back to normal. “There you go,” he says, then nods. “You can make something for Mike.”

“Like what?”

“Um, I don’t know. Draw him a card?”

“Mom already bought cards,” Will sighs.

“Make him a special one,” Jonathan shrugs. “Because he’s– um. Your special somebody.”

Will grins, wide enough that he knows his missing tooth gap is showing. Sue him. He thinks it’s cool, even if Jonathan has, like, five of them and doesn’t care. “Thanks, Jonathan!”

“Uh, yeah!” Jonathan sounds a little confused as he calls after him, but Will is already on his way to his own room. “You’re welcome!”

When Will gets back to his room, he pulls out his crayons and his paper, sits down at his desk, and–

He stops.

Oh no.

What is he supposed to put on a card? For Mike, especially, who’s one of the coolest people Will knows. What if he thinks it’s lame? What if he doesn’t want a card? What if whatever Will makes is so boring and awful that Mike laughs?

Will shakes his head. No, he thinks. Mike won’t laugh at him. Mike would never laugh at him, and that’s why he’s so special– everyone else laughs at Will, sometimes, about his clothes or his hair or the way he talks. But Mike doesn’t. Mike thinks he’s cool, and Mike thinks he’s fun, and Mike likes all the same stuff as he does– the kind of stuff that everyone else in their class thinks is lame but Mike doesn’t.

Will stares down at the blank sheet of colored paper. Blue, because Mike likes blue. And Will’s got a twenty-four pack of crayons and he doesn’t know what color to draw in, but everything else, the candies and the cards in mom’s bag, had been red or pink, so maybe Will should draw in red or pink too. And– everything else had, like, hearts on it, so maybe he can start there.

“For Mike,” Will says aloud, slowly and carefully, as he writes the words at the top of the paper. He’s pretty sure he spelled it right. He knows he’s got Mike’s name correct, at least. F-O-R. For. 

Yeah. That looks okay.

The heart is next. Will tries to make it big enough to take up most of the page, where the paper has been folded in half down the middle. It’s a little lumpy, but– yeah. You can totally tell it’s a heart.

Probably.

He opens the card to the inside, and pauses again. Great, he thinks, because what is he supposed to write on the inside? He’d already drawn a heart on the front, and it would probably be a little lame to draw another one on the inside.

“Think,” he groans out loud, putting the red crayon down and peering into the box. Half of them are broken, and some others are worn down to nubs, so it’s not even like he has a lot of options here.

What sort of stuff does Mike even like? Mostly the same stuff Will does, but then maybe that would be like Will is making a card for himself, and not for Mike. He looks at the paper some more, like maybe something will appear on it, fully-formed, if he stares long enough.

Nope. Nothing. 

Will sighs, and thinks harder.

Mike had liked that book they read in class last week– something about a knight rescuing a princess from a tower. Will hadn’t really been paying attention, because it was kind of boring and, like, sappy and about love, but Mike had been totally into it. Will had looked over during group reading time and his eyes had been huge and his jaw had been, like, on the floor. Will didn’t really get the appeal, because, again, it had been totally cheesy and sappy and gross. But Mike had found a stick at recess an hour later and brandished it like a sword, and Will had been too busy laughing to properly express how lame he thought the whole thing was.

It wasn’t lame when Mike did it, though. That’s why Mike is special– nothing’s lame when he does it.

Will picks up a crayon. He has an idea.

—

Don’t think it’s lame, Will prays, fighting every instinct in his body that’s telling him to squeeze his eyes shut and hold his breath. Please don’t think it’s lame.

Mike hasn’t said anything yet. Maybe he really does think it’s lame.

Will is starting to wish that maybe the asphalt of the playground could just open up and swallow him whole. Mike totally thinks it’s lame. Maybe Mike didn’t even want a card. Maybe Mike is weirded out. Maybe Mike–

“Did you really make this?”

Will blinks. Mike doesn’t sound weirded out. He sounds– impressed? Maybe?

“Um. Yes,” he says anyway. Mike’s eyes are wide where he’s staring at the card in front of him, and Will holds his breath after all– just a little– for one second, then two, then–

“Will!” Mike says, face breaking out into the biggest smile Will has literally ever seen him smile. “This is awesome!”

Oh, thank god. “Really?” Will can’t keep the relief out of his voice when he asks.

“Yeah!” Mike nods rapidly, never once taking his eyes off the paper. “This is awesome!”

“You already said that,” Will points out, but he’s smiling now too. “You really don’t think it’s lame?”

“No way!” Mike points at the crayon outline of a figure against the blue paper. “Is that me?”

“Duh,” Will says, pointing to where he had drawn an arrow and written Mike. Just in case there was any confusion. “It’s you as the knight. From the story.”

“I love the knight from the story,” Mike announces, and Will immediately feels like a million pounds of weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Thank god. 

“I know,” Will giggles. “You almost killed me with the stick you were waving around.”

Mike gasps. “Excuse you. It was a sword.”

“Sure,” Will says. “Okay. It was a sword.”

Mike looks like he’s going to say something else, and then he stops. He shakes his head. His voice is quieter now when he says, “You really made this for me?”

Will doesn’t know why they keep coming back to this. Obviously he made this for Mike. That’s why he’d labeled the drawing with his name. Mike. He’d meant for that to help, in case there was any confusion, but maybe he hadn’t labeled it well enough. Maybe two arrows next time. Or maybe he should add Mike’s last name, just in case Mike thought he made it for the other Mike in their class. “Duh,” he says again, because he isn’t sure what about this Mike isn’t understanding. “It’s for– Valentine’s Day.”

Mike goes a little pink. Will’s not sure why, because they’ve been sitting in one spot for all of recess so far, and Mike hasn’t been running around at all. “Really?”

“Jonathan said I should make a card for someone special.” Will tugs nervously at the zipper on his jacket. Why is he nervous? It’s only Mike. “And I think you’re special.”

Mike’s mouth drops open. He closes it, then opens it again, in an excellent imitation of their class goldfish Bubbles. “Really?”

Maybe Mike’s words just aren’t working today. Will feels like that a lot. He gets it. “Duh,” he says, for the third and hopefully final time. “You’re my best friend.”

“Wow,” Mike breathes out. “You’re an awesome artist, Will.”

“Really?”

Okay, maybe it’s Will’s turn for his brain to stop working. He’s not sure what’s so awesome about his drawing. You can barely even tell it’s Mike.

“Um, yeah,” Mike stares, like this is obvious or something. “You can totally tell it’s me! No one else in our class can draw this good. You should do it more. I think you could get, like, famous or something.”

Will doesn’t know about all that, but something warm and fuzzy is swelling up inside him anyway. Surprised and pleased at the praise. “Oh. Thanks, Mike.”

“I wish I made you something,” Mike says sadly, still staring down at the card, like he’s trying to absorb it with his eyes. “My mom just made me get the ones from the store for everyone.”

“It’s okay!” Will smiles. Really, he doesn’t need a card from Mike. He’s just happy Mike liked it.

“You can have my Reese’s,” Mike offers. He doesn’t fold the card up and put it in his pocket like Will thought he might, but holds it carefully in both hands and looks over at him, eyes wide. “Someone gave me one for our candy exchange, but I think you like them more than me.”

Will grins. “Okay!”

Mike hesitates, then suddenly, moves forward and throws his arms around Will’s shoulders. It’s sudden enough for Will to stumble backwards, a little caught off-guard by the puffy weight of Mike’s jacket and body against his. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Will,” Mike says. “You’re my best friend too.”

#oh this was so fun #unexpectedly hard but in the best way #i don't know how to write little kids #i'm so scared of making them sound too baby #but hopefully !! this was good #thank u sm for this prompt andi it was so so so cute #happy valentine's day i love u much #mwah <3 #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #miwi #fun sized fics #fic #ok byebye #/astro posts

[we-are-inevitable]

btw in the restaurant au. if you even care. jack goes to culinary school because growing up, his dad always made incredible food, and he started puttering around the kitchen with him when he was like 5 years old. he always wanted to try better recipes and newer things, and his dad- though they didnt have much money- would always save up for good ingredients so jack could cook whatever his little heart desired. cooking was their time; i imagine his dad was a line cook or something, not at a fancy restaurant or anything but at a little diner, and cooking was Their thing. jack would spend all day with his mom, and as soon as his dad came home- no matter how tired he was of cooking, no matter how much he wanted to just go lay down- they would go to the kitchen and he would supervise jack as jack made dinner for everyone.

when jack’s mom gets sick, he’s 10 years old, and his dad has to cut back his time at the diner to take care of her, since jack is in school and can’t be there. this means they bring in less money, so they can’t really afford to pay for the fresh ingredients now; most of their meals at home are dollar store staples. hanburger helper, microwavable TV dinners, sandwiches- they genuinely don’t have the money to spend on fresh produce anymore, and even buying ground beef and chicken breasts is splurging that they can’t often afford.

they live on a shoestring budget until jack can get his first job at age 14. his mom beats cancer the first time, but they’re drowning in medical debt, so jack finds a job that will actually hire him despite not being 15 yet, and his first real job is working as a dishwasher at a restaurant down the street. he works nearly every day, and all of his money is given to his father, despite his father insisting that he doesn’t need a job, he shouldn’t have a job, he’s just a kid and his money should be going toward kid stuff and not paying his parent’s medical bills.

but jack refuses, so they keep it up. i think the only non-mom-related expenses jack has are food related,, sometimes he’ll stop in the little grocery store he would go to with his dad when they were younger and buy fresh vegetables and a little two pound roll of hamburger meat, just so they can at least have one meal that isn’t ready from a box. jack continues this until he’s fifteen, and by the time he turns 15, his mother’s cancer is back, even after only been beaten for a year, and it’s a lot worse.

jack drops out at 15, after having long conversations with his father, and though it breaks his father’s heart to see jack doing this, it’s unfortunately what needs to be done. jack drops out and gets another job on top of the dishwashing, and he ends up as a line cook at a fast food place. they’re able to pay the bills on jack’s paychecks, and get groceries with the little that jack’s dad makes from the days he’s able to work.

jack’s mom passes when he’s 16, leaving jack and his dad to cover both funeral and medical expenses. they’re drowning after that, both grieving in their own ways. jack’s father can barely get out of bed for weeks, but jack is back at work the day after his mother’s funeral because he knows they can’t risk falling behind on bills.

jack’s dad loved his mom so much. they were such a happy family before she got sick, which wasn’t her fault, none of this was ever her fault, but after she passes he’s completely out of commission. he can’t keep a job, he barely talks anymore, he drinks and drinks until jack can’t recognize him. it’s terrifying to watch, but jack gives him his time- he knows that eventually, his father is going to get back on his feet, and he’s going to be okay, and he’s going to go back to work and they’re going to get to relax and things will be fine again.

jack’s dad dies a few days after jack’s 18th birthday. they didn’t see it coming. the paramedics say it was a heart attack. jack likes to think of it as his mom needing his dad. it’s easier to stomach that way.

but that’s fine. everything is fine. jack, freshly 18, plans his second funeral and again, he’s back at work the day after putting his dad in the ground. he sells most of the furniture to have some extra cash. he finds a cheaper apartment in the bad part of town because he can’t afford a two bedroom when he’s just one kid. he has a bed, he has photos of his parents, and he has a kitchen. that’s all he needs.

the next few years pass with jack climbing the ranks in whatever restaurants he can get his hands on. he’s finally in a place where he can save for school, culinary school, and he has more restaurant experience under his belt by the time he’s 21 than most of his older coworkers do. he busts his ass and works so hard to put himself through school, and when he finally gets his certificate after everything, he can rest. he starts applying to different high end restaurants, and he works as a cook in a nice steakhouse for a while, but he doesn’t like his coworkers and knows he deserves more than being miserable.

when he hears about a new restaurant opening in the area, some “high end” burger joint called Pulitzer’s, he throws his hat in the ring with an application and is hired on as the lead chef at the age of 25.

he’s 26 when a new server named David Jacobs is hired, and things start looking up.

#this is why jack is so fiercely defensive of his cooking #and why david getting pissed at him makes him so angry #jack also is able to get his GED before going to culinary school and he just wishes he could tell his dad he finally finished high school #this is so much longer than i meant it to be but fuckkk bro jack loves his dad so much #jack kelly #newsies #davey jacobs #david jacobs #livesies #newsies musical #jac txt. #jac’s headcanons #restaurant au #javid