#I'm sure this has been done before but still

[flightyalrighty]

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT CH 1 PG 36

Infested will return on June 27th. --- Thank you to the following Ascended supporters: @chaogongoozles, @fiiresiidefrfr, @elizard4227, @grogar, Ezzoh, @susivoi, @calculuscacophony, Eros, @ivycorp, @summersdale @borrelia, @mizukiz, @sanicdetails, @combinegrunt-echo-1, Pica, @veeceear, @quackenburt, ItsmeMonarch, @memendoemori, @trans-girl-sonic, & savarsenic

Content Warnings | Store | Ko-Fi | Read On Comic Fury! DISCLAIMER: "Infested" is a horror comic ft. content not suitable for those under the age of 17.

A long-winded looking back on things below the cut:

The first few pages of Infested were uploaded to this blog on March 2nd, 2023 -- Over a whole year ago! I was so busy, too, that I completely missed its birthday (Sorry Infested). Looking even further back than that, the original story was was something I began writing on December 25th, 2022 (Merry Christmas).

It took two years to get to this point.

And hey, not to toot my own horn about it, but completing even one chapter of a webcomic is a big deal. Especially for me. My first webcomic, Fight/Flight, didn't get very far. I completed the prologue, started Chapter 1, and then had to drop it for a number of reasons (I didn't really agree with what baby-me had to say, politically, anymore).

This comic was born from a lot of intense feelings. The story, itself, too. Some good. Some bad.

I had been forced to move away from my hometown, and with that move, I lost the physical connection that I had to all of my friends. I lost the familiarity of a place I'd known for most of my life. I'm now stuck somewhere... Worse. It felt like a cage. Still does. Disconnected from the life I thought I would be living after college. I didn't have health insurance, either -- Got kicked off of it because of the move -- And as a result, I was off my antidepressants.

So there I was, at a pretty low point in my life. I miserable and lonely and every single day dragged on. And on. And on. And I felt so disappointed in myself. That disappointment became self-loathing, and it all kinda spiraled.

Have I mentioned that I'm a huge Sonic fan? I don't think I need to. I'd say it's pretty obvious. But for the sake of this story, I'll say it again: I'm a HUGE Sonic fan. I've been that way since 2003 with Sonic Heroes. The franchise has been in my life for over two decades. I had a monthly mail subscription to Archie's Sonic the Hedgehog. Sonic the Hedgehog was something that I truly loved more than any other piece of media. It brought me endless joy. Until I didn't.

I had dropped Sonic after Lost World was... Itself. I had already felt pretty irritated with the Meta Era, and Lost World was the final straw. The last bit of hope that the series could recover was snuffed out when Forces was released. It was over. I was done. If Sonic was truly that embarrassed by itself, if they had truly lost touch with what made the series so great, then I wouldn't waste my time any longer. I was so sure that I had to just... Grieve and move on. My beloved childhood game series was dead. Long live the king or whatever. I'd just bitterly read IDW Sonic and think about what could've been. I was lucky to have that comic, at least. Archie had been canceled, too, after all. I was lucky to have my scraps.

Then Sonic Frontiers came out. And it changed everything.

And my god, it was everything. It was everything to me. Flaws be damned, it was everything. To. Me. The spectacle. The serious tone. The vastly improved writing. Kellin Fucking Quinn. It was FUN! It was actually FUN to PLAY. He was back. I was back. Sonic pulled me by my hand out of the ocean of misery I'd fallen into, and he looked me in my eye and he said;

"Hey. You're gonna be alright."

Metaphorically speaking. Sonic The Hedgehog didn't actually literally speak to me -- And sure, okay, maybe it's a little dramatic to describe a game as this great Depression Annihilator but I'm dead serious when I say that, for that time, before I was able to get back on my meds, I was self-medicating with Sonic.

Sonic was all I was thinking about. I reread the Unleashed arc in Archie Sonic, which got me sorta realizing something, and which led to my post where I said something along the lines of "Sonic would hide a zombie bite."

Archie Sonic would, at least. Because he basically did do that in the Unleashed arc of that comic. He let that problem fester until it became an even bigger problem because, ironically, he didn't want to be a problem.

So one thing led to another. I thought more about Sonic becoming a zombie. Bada-bing, bada-boom, Infested was born.

I didn't expect it to get the attention that it did. I felt lucky when the first page I drew Rouge on (Page 6 I think?) blew up. The right people saw it at the right time. I'm extremely grateful for that.

I'm extremely grateful for all of you.

So yeah, one chapter. Woo! Here's to many more.

[giamee]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍!

... aka something super self indulgent because i'm going insane right now

༊*·˚ featuring ➻ the hsr men

༊*·˚ gia's notes ➻ this is probably gonna get posted way after exam season is over but here it is!!! my coping mechanism!!! i have 3 exams in 8 days im gonna explode bro. and before that i had a THREE HOUR STATISTICS EXAM 😀😀

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 MAKES SURE THAT YOU SLEEP COMFORTABLY.

you've been running yourself into the ground recently with revision- yes, it's important and you need to study to get good grades, as he is more than aware of due to your multiple stressed rants to him when he suggests that you take a break.

it doesn't bother him, not really. he knows that you're beyond stressed right now and don't mean to be so snappy. he just wants to make sure that you're still taking care of yourself despite everything.

he's in your dorm room, not really making much noise, scrolling through reals with his phone on mute, just present to keep an eye on you and get you to take a break whenever it's been a little too long since you've moved from your desk.

it's some time where it's debatable whether it's very late or very early- both of your sleep schedules are fucked- and there comes a little thunk from your desk that interrupts the otherwise silent room.

your boyfriend glances up, smiling in triumph as he sees that you've finally succumbed to the nap that he's been trying to convince you to take for the past... 36 hours? something like that.

and now that your body has finally given in to exhaustion, he springs to action.

you'd been studying for days, you'd done more than enough for your upcoming exam, and a solid few hours of uninterrupted sleep is exactly what you need right now.

he slips off of your bed, his movements quiet and calculated as he sidles up next to you. your glasses are smushed against your face, and he gingerly removes them as gracefully as he can. you stir a little as he does so, and he grimaces, waiting for you to settle again.

it looked like you would wake up if he carried you to your bed- looks like he'll have to improvise.

he snags the fuzzy blanket folded neatly at the foot of your bed, wrapping it around your sleeping form still sat at your desk as best as he can. he then takes one of your smaller pillows, coaxing it between you and the solid wood of your desk as best as he can before admiring his handiwork.

hopefully, you wouldn't wake up with a stiff neck.

and finally, as a cherry on top, he places a kiss to your squished cheek and sits back down to let you take a well-deserved nap.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ BLADE, gallagher, BOOTHILL ++ your faves!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 IS YOUR PERSONAL ASSISTANT WHILE YOU'RE STRESSING.

you don't have to lift a single finger when he's around. luckily for you, his exams finished a lot earlier this term than yours did, leaving him ample time to help you as much as he is capable of.

and what an attentive boyfriend he is! amidst all the stress, you can't help but swoon for him all over again because of how attentive he's being towards you. he just wants you to help you study and not worry about anything else!

if you're hungry, he'll have a plate of food ready for you before the request has even left your mouth. your back or neck is aching due to being hunched over? his strong hands are rubbing circles into the muscle, making you sigh contentedly as the stiffness melts away.

he's honestly like an angel in your time of need.

you feel guilty about how one-sided this all is, but he merely smiles, giving you a quick kiss and assuring you that he understands and just wants you to do well. you almost cried because of how sweet he was being.

once these exams are over, you're definitely going to make it up to him.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ GEPARD, jing yuan, sunday ++ your faves!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ACTS AS YOUR TEMPORARY STUDY PARTNER.

despite not doing your degree, he's clever, and he knows enough without googling to help you out when you revise.

he's an advocate for the "teach someone about a subject until they understand it as well as you do" and luckily for you, he's all ears... and even if he does get some things a little quicker than your fried brain can explain, he still bites his tongue and plays a little dumb to probe you further with questions to test your understanding.

it'll help in the exam.

you've decided that this is way better than being cramped in a booth in the library- you have the freedom to wave your arms around and pace the room, to fully illustrate your thoughts and knowledge as he flips through the colourful flashcards that you made, reading the answers on the back of each of them, grilling you on the questions like a tiger mum.

he'll be damned if you don't get an A.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ dan heng, DR RATIO, welt ++ your faves!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 DEFUSES YOU WHENEVER YOU'RE GETTING TOO STRESSED.

in the days leading up to your exams, it was best to describe your stomach as a pit of nerves. it was honestly distracting you from revising, all the pent up anxiety that churned within you until you were on the verge of a meltdown.

and while you may be too stressed to realise all of this and do something about it, your boyfriend's watchful eye realises this.

and so he does what he does best- he makes you feel better.

he pulls your body to rest against his where he lies in your bed, his large hand drawing comforting circles up and down your spine- and after a few minutes he can feel you melt into him, your body finally releasing the pent up stress that it's been holding for too long.

"it's ok to take a break, honey."

you sigh into him, and he hugs you tighter.

"c'mon, let's go outside for a few minutes. it'll help you feel a lot better."

you shake your head.

"you wanna just stay here for a bit?"

he feels you nod against his chest.

"ok, then let's do that."

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ SAMPO, luocha, AVENTURINE ++ your faves!

IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... do you want somebody like i want somebody?

the sweet and caring nature of the hsr men is also shown through them being your roommate <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 29

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You peel off the suit and wring it out. You leave it in the bathroom to dry, but more so you don't need to look at it. You've never been so humiliated in all your life. 

Worse than your mother's bitter grumbles, or the way your grandmother used to nitpick at every part of you was that look in Steve's eyes. It was like nothing you've ever seen before. Not angry, not judging, but something mysterious that unsettled you. 

Ugh. You sneer at the wall as you pull on the baggiest tee shirt you have. You hate yourself. No, you hate your body. No matter what you do, it's clumsy and somehow you get in the way of yourself. 

You shimmy into a pair of pajama shorts and flop onto your bed. You could read but your head won't let you focus. Drawing isn't an option either, you're still shaking from the exposure. 

Sleep. Well, that won't come. Every time you close your eyes, you just see Steve and the water, and your nakedness. You can't imagine what your mother would've said if she'd saw. 

She hadn't, had she? 

You roll over and hide your head under your arm. You just lay there, desperate to escape somehow. The hours wear on, the day shifting around your unmoving form, the stagnant house dampening your skin with sweat.  

When you finally get the strength to flip onto your back, you realise you've been crying. You sniffle and mop your cheeks. You don't know why you're crying. Humiliation, sure, but don't be such a baby. 

You sit up cradle your head until it's a little less fragile. You get to your feet and shuffle out to use the bathroom. You pointedly ignore the pink checkered fabric. 

When you're done, you go to the kitchen. You look in the fridge. Not much there. You take out an old cup of pudding and fish out a spoon. You sit at the table and stir it but don't eat.  

You remember when you were a kid, your grandma would give you tapioca. Your mother only ever got banana. You hate banana pudding. It tastes so artificial. 

You're not a kid anymore. You're realising that now. It's time to be an adult. You don't have a place here anymore. Your mom has Steve and you have... nothing. 

The front door whines on its ungreased hinges. You wince and look up, shove a spoonful into your mouth. 

Steve appears. He has a tee on but still wears his swim shorts. You look at him dully and swallow, scooping up more of the pudding. 

"You hungry? You could have come over for lunch." 

You shrug and keep eating. Your stomach sickens at the overly sweet treat. You want to spit it out. 

"You're still mad?" He asks. 

You shrug again. 

He sighs. He crosses the room and pulls out the chair across from you, "look, sweetie," he twines his fingers through each other as he rests his arms on the table, "I'm real sorry. I was trying to have some fun. I made a mistake. We all do, right?" 

You stare at the table and nod. 

"Right, so can we move past it? Forget it ever happened?" 

"Forget?" You echo in a croak. "Erm." 

"Wiped clean," he unweaves his fingers and makes a smooth motion over the table top. "How about it? Can you forgive me?" 

You let the spoon go and slide the cup aside. You can't look up. It's more than the embarrassment of what happened. It's the constant shame that follows you around. You're just a hanger-on. He doesn't have to keep pretending because of your mom. She deserves to have a life after all the years she wasted on you. A life without you. 

"I'm sorry. I'm... I'm going to find a job and I'll do my best and..." you ramble as you trace your fingers on the table and tilt your head back and forth, "and you won't have to worry about me." 

"Sweetie?" He reaches over to still your hand, "what are you talking about?" 

"I shouldn't be... I shouldn't be living with you. Or mom. You two... I'm in the way--" 

"In the way? Sweetie," he squeezes your hand, "I promise you that's not true." 

"It has to be." 

"Why? Why does that have to be true?" 

"Because no one wants me," you turn your face down but he won't let go of your hand so you can hide. 

"I know that's not true," he insists.  

"It is. You see it. My mom..." you shudder and hold back a sob, "hates me." 

He's quiet. He clings to you even as you try to pull free. "I don't hate you." 

"You barely know me." 

"Sweetie, I know enough. Just enough to know you're a sweet girl. A good girl. All this time you've been taking care of your mom. Not anyone does that, you know? Most people would just leave her behind," he brings his other hand up to pet your knuckles, "and you're considerate and kind and gentle." 

"Please," you wisp and tug on your hand again, "you don't have to--" 

"I want you," he interjects as he tightens his grip, "sweetie, look at me." 

Your eyes flick up, startled by his hold and his tone. 

"You said no one wants you? I do. I shouldn't. I know it. I... I saw the way you take care of Holly, I saw how hard you try, I saw it all and I--" 

He finally lets you go. You recoil, shocked. Your hand tingles and your heart races. He doesn't mean it like that. He can't. You blink and lean back, making yourself as small as you can. 

"I'm sorry," he drops his head into his hands, "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm trying not to feel like this. I've been fighting myself but..." he looks up, fingers stretched up his cheeks as his eyes glimmer, "I... don't love your mom. I only married her so... so..." he closes his eyes and trembles, "I shouldn't say it." His lashes flick open and he sits up straight, "so I could take care of you. That's why. But I couldn't... be honest. Because I didn't want to scare you or lose you. Just having you close is enough so I lied." He sniffs and a tear rolls out, "worse, I couldn't even be honest with myself. Not until now. Until it's too late." 

You gape at him. He just watches you. His expression is pained and sheepish.  

"Please, sweetie, say something." 

"You can't mean it," you breathe, "please take it back." 

"I can't," he utters. 

You sit in silence. You don't know what to say. You can't think. It's all too much. Why can't today just be over? 

He inhales and lets it out as he fixes his posture. He gulps thickly and you look up. He stares at you. The same look as before. The one you don't understand. 

"Sweetie," his voice is firmer and his tears are evaporated, "I have one question." You lower your brow, confused, "do you want your mom to be taken care of?" 

"What?" You squeak. 

"Your mom? You want her to be comfortable? Supported? Get the proper treatment?" He's staunch as he speaks, "you can't do it yourself. We both know you were struggling. Do you got the money for her next hospital stay? For the nurse?" 

You whimper and shake your head, "what do you mean?" 

"Sweetie, your mom needs me. You need me. Don't play dumb," he intones, "I will do anything. I will make sure mom is nice and cozy. She has her meds and everything she needs. There's only one thing I want in return." He clicks his tongue and inclines his head, "it's too bad it's the only thing you got." 

You stare at him. Through him. The whole world narrows in on you as your chest caves in. You close your eyes, wishing against everything, that it can make him go away. 

[actual-changeling]

Scully comes back to her apartment after her abduction, and sure, it's all clean and tidy, but it's also incredibly empty. Mulder has been visiting her almost constantly, and her skin itches with the need for his presence.

She considers calling him. She considers asking him to come over. She considers driving over herself. Then again, she's been taking up enough of his time—he must be glad to finally have some hours to himself.

It's early in the afternoon, but she's exhausted, so she drops her bag in her bedroom and is about to close the blinds when something catches her eye.

Draped over a chair is one of Mulder's t-shirts that was definitely NOT there before. She briefly thinks about washing it and giving it back to him until she realises what it being here means in the first place.

The shirt still smells like him, like his laundry detergent, like HER laundry detergent, and something she knows to be just Mulder.

("He hasn't been sleeping," her mother had told her, and he'd certainly looked the part. Yet every time he came by, he ended up dozing off for at least an hour or two, seemingly lulled to sleep by her voice and her fingers carding through his hair.)

Maybe it should bother her, but somehow, it doesn't. Even though she will never admit it, she would have done the same; in a different universe, she spent three months curled up on his couch with her eyes wide open.

The fabric is soft against her cheek, and it helps calm the paranoia enough for her to change and slide into bed, the shirt held tightly in her grasp. Before she can turn off the light, the phone on her nightstand rings, and she knows it's him. It's always him.

"I just wanted to check in, make sure you got home safe," Mulder says quietly, and she clicks off her bedside lamp and presses the receiver to her ear.

"I'm okay, just tired and about to try to sleep," she replies, and her voice sounds almost gentle. In the dark, with her nose buried in the familiar-unfamiliar fabric and hearing his breaths, she can almost pretend he's right there with her.

"I'll be here if you—if you need anything."

"I know." She does. She really, really does.

When she dreams, it's about him.

———

still thinking about one breath, and there are at least 2 half-written fics in my wip folder. send help.

[diazsdimples]

WIP Wednesday

I was reminded of my Buddietommy Ballet AU the other day and suddenly had Beans. Previous (and only) snippet here

Tagged by @bidisasterevankinard @cal-daisies-and-briars @wikiangela @smilingbuckley @inell

@dangerpronebuddie @kitteneddiediaz @loserdiaz @loveyouanyway and @elvensorceress (I'm sorry if Buddietommy/ Tommy isn't your thing)

Buck opened the door to the studio, his blood thrumming through his veins with nervous energy.

He wasn’t sure what to expect – he’d received a text from Eddie an hour earlier that simply read “dance with us”, and Buck had immediately dropped what he’d been doing and high-tailed it to the studio.

He didn’t know where he stood with Eddie, or Tommy, or EddieandTommy. When Eddie had kissed him, his world had stopped spinning, only existing on a singular plane of ohfuckEddie’skissingme, but then Tommy had walked into the changing room and Buck’s stomach had dropped to his ankles. He’d thought Tommy was going to take a swing at him, to tell Buck to get his hands of Tommy’s man. His dreams of being a principal had died before his very eyes, with visions of being thrown out and ordered never to come back swirling through his brain as Tommy had stalked towards him with a dark, indiscernible look in his eyes.

But then Tommy had pushed Buck against a locker and blown him within an inch of his life, and Buck hadn’t heard from either man since. Until now.

The studio is dimly lit, with the only source of light from a few candles placed on the floor around the edges of the room. They cast a flickering, yellow glow against the walls, reflecting off the mirror so it feels like the room is shimmering.

Taking a breath, Buck opens the door the whole way and steps into the room. There’s a shadowy figure against one wall, and they look up as he walks into the middle of the floor.

“We weren’t sure you’d come.”

...

“How could we not?” Tommy hums as he flutters a delicate kiss just below Buck’s ear, and Buck lets out a shaky breath, collapsing back into Tommy’s arms. “You’ve left quite the impression, Evan.”

“I- I’m,” Buck begins, but he’s not sure where he wants to take that though. He’s what, sorry? Clearly neither Tommy nor Eddie care – in fact, the opposite is true. Eddie’s looking at Buck with just unbridled hunger in his eyes that Buck feels almost like prey being scrutinised by an apex predator, and Tommy’s lips are on his skin and hands skimming up and down Buck’s arms.

It's best just to keep his mouth shut.

Eddie takes Buck’s hands in his, and Buck allows himself to be guided into the middle of the floor, away from the barre and mirror. He hears a faint click, and suddenly, the opening lines from Swan Lake fill his ears, the notes floating on the air like mist, filling the room with their promise of another world.

“Have you ever danced with another man before?” Tommy asks as he captures Buck’s hand and extends their arms. Buck feels him pulling on his body, encouraging him to the side, and he goes, trusting Tommy to hold him. Eddie moves closer still, pressing himself against Buck’s front, and he runs a hand down Buck’s face, to his neck, and further down until it’s pressed against his chest, over his thundering heart.

“No,” Buck whispers breathily.

Eddie lets out a low hum in the back of his throat at Buck’s response, and Buck’s cock jumps in his tights, still held firmly in place by his belt. The proximity of the two men, the way they move and manipulate him into different positions as they begin to dance, it’s one of the hottest things Buck has ever done in his life. Tommy’s mouth finds Buck’s earlobe and he teases it between his teeth as Eddie’s hands find Buck’s waist.

“So you’ve never been lifted before?” comes the following question from Eddie, and Buck barely has a moment to register the implications before Eddie is bending at the knee and lifting.

Buck feels like he’s weightless, the only points of contact between him and anything else now just the places where Eddie’s hands are wrapped around his hips. Almost reflexively, he mirrors a position he’s seen some of the female dancers do, his head tilted back in ecstasy as Eddie holds him, supports all his weight with his arms.

Then he’s falling backwards, body moving through the air too quickly for his liking, and his heart is in his throat. He’s going to hit the ground, he’s going to make a fool of himself in front of these two unbelievably hot men, he’s going to –

His back hits a strong body as an arm circles around his waist and the other captures him under his right thigh, extending his leg.

“I’ve got you,” Tommy whispers in his ear, and he spins him and Buck around until the room is a blur in front of Buck’s eyes.

Holy fucking fuck.

No pressure tagging

@theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @neverevan @spotsandsocks

@aroeddiediaz @actualalligator @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @babybibuck @slightlyobsessedwitheverything

@watchyourbuck @underwaterninja13 @jesuisici33 @rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings

@nmcggg @exhuastedpigeon @thewolvesof1998 @actuallyitsellie @thekristen999 and anyone else who wants to participate (and if I usually tag you and I didn't, yes I did fsdkjhfs I'm struggling to remember who's cool with what so just sticking to a selection of friends at this point, but lmk if you want to be added or removed)

[devoutekuna]

Matching outfits

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

Sukuna doesn't know how to make clothes, nor does he want to learn. So he raids a village in hopes to find a fashion designer who could make his daughter a matching outfit. "Tell her then" annoyed at the fact that he even had to do this. "I want to be matching dad!" Jumping at the idea of matching her father, he was her idol, wanting to be like him when she grows up, much to your dismay. "You want to be just like him?" Dreading for the poor girl's future. Trembling at the sight of the four armed man.

Atleast a week later, he had returned with his little girl. "Look daddy!" Jumping up and down as she showed the kimono. "Yeah yeah" laughing at how excited she was. The woman still bowing, not daring to raise her head from the ground.

Nanami-

Nanami- is very thoughtful, so when he hears that his daughter wants to be like him when she's older, as much as he doesn't want her to become a Jujutsu sorcerer he goes in full force, hiring someone to make an exact replica of his outfit, even adding in a skirt for her to have options.

"See daddy! Now we're matching" twirling around, she added her own little twist to the outfit by having a skirt on since she wasn't feeling the pants. Sat on the sofa trying to catch up on some paperwork, he almost spat out his coffee from how cute she looked, hair tied up in two pigtails, even the same tie and shirt colour, green glasses to complete her look. "Awe, you look pretty sweetheart" patting the cushion beside him.

Gojo-

"I'm done!" Bringing his son out to show you, holding his son by his armpits, feet dangling in the air. "I made him look cuter!" Chubby cheeks flaring a shade of pink as if he was about to cry. Your son looked rather cute, wearing the exact same uniform like salty always wore, they were identical, both white hair and blue eyes, defying your genes entirely. "My baby has always been cute" taking him from your husband's hands, laying him on the sofa. Grabbing his pink cheeks, only making him cry. "Satoru!" Slapping the back of his head. "I didn't mean to" trying to defend himself.

Geto-

"I need a matching robe for my daughter, I'll raise your rank if you get it done by next week Sunday" That's what he explained to the fashion designer a few weeks ago, that's exactly what he did, gave the follower a slightly higher rank, he was thinking about killing them but he atleast had some sympathy left. It was the anniversary of becoming a leader so if course he wanted to celebrate, bringing his daughter along in a matching outfit, she looked so much like him, like a gender bend version. "Ah, daddy I look just like you!" Giving herself a quick twirl before walking out of the curtains, standing Infront of all her father's followers. "Yeah you do" patting her head as he overtook her, sitting down.

Toji-

Normally he never plans stuff out but the second he heard the news that you were pregnant he's already planned out the gifts. "How about this?" Showing you the outfit he styled on his daughter, the little girl wearing a black bodysuit with a pair of grey sweatpants. "So you dressed her up like you?" Looking back from the sofa, you had to admit that she did look sure as she matched with her father. Minus him not wearing a shirt.

"Yes" saying it proudly as he placed himself on the sofa, right next to you. She seemed to enjoy the outfit as much as he did, clapping her hand as she stuck her tongue out.

[d10nyx]

LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE - JOEL MILLER

ft. joel miller x puppy hybrid!reader

a/n: i'm actually very proud of this fic ngl to you guys. been wanting to write for tlou for the LONGEST time and... you know i had to make my debut w joel :3 first time trying to dive into writing more than just smut, so lemme know what you think !! rbs and feedback always appreciated !! thank you @ama-szn for betaing x

cw: 18+ content, brief mention of sarah and guilt, grinding, p in v, creampie, grinding, slight cockwarming, praise, puppy gets used a lot... joel being snappy and a mild asshole at times, tail play???

word count: 4.1k words

Now, Joel isn't always the smartest guy around. He has a tendency to get a little blunt, to put it nicely, and he isn't the type to do charity work. Being nice has never done him any favours, so he sees no point in acting all buddy-buddy just for the hell of it.

In saying that, he's starting to think he has a problem collecting strays. It started with Ellie, and now he's starting to see a habit forming when he comes across you. By all accounts, he should have left you in the corner of that beat up store. You'd been a good enough distraction to the Clickers with your incessant whining that Joel could have snuck by undetected.

Well, like he said, he's got a stray problem — and it's hardly good manners to leave a girl in trouble when he can help out. He aims his pistol, frowns as you flinch at the sounds of the shots as he takes them down. Lucky for the both of you, there's only two of them, but he still uses way more ammo than he'd like.

Joel has to double take when he gets a good look at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he crouches in front of you. He has half a mind to put a bullet through your skull, but something about the way you look has him hesitating. You're a cute enough girl, a little scruffy looking, maybe, but cute nonetheless. That isn't what has him staring at you like you're some kind of exhibit, though.

"You got... are those fuckin' ears, kid?" He tries to keep his voice low, not only 'cause you're shaking so hard you're practically vibrating, but he doesn't want to find out if those Clickers had any buddies nearby. He tenses up slightly when he notices movement behind you, his brows furrowing as he squints to get a closer look. "Don't tell me that's a tail you're hidin' back there."

Your ears perk up slightly at the sound of his voice, your eyes flicking over his face as your whines die down. You lift the tail, showing off the dirt-ridden, matted fur before letting it flop to the floor once again, tilting your head to the side.

"I'll be damned... Now I'm seein' things." Joel is almost sure that you're a hallucination, or maybe he's finally snapped. He reaches out, pokes the tip of your right ear. It's hard for him to stop himself from frowning when the fur is soft and warm underneath his fingertips, the thing twitching under his touch. They sure don't seem fake. He isn't seeing things, you're real and you're sitting right in front of him. "Can you talk, girl? I'm startin' to feel like a crazy old man, here.”

You blink at him slowly for a moment, like you have to think hard about his words. You nod your head softly, your eyes not straying from him. Your voice is quiet when you reply, breathless and shaky. “Y-yeah… I can talk.”

"Well. That's somethin’.” Joel lets out a breath he didn’t realize he'd been holding in. There's a moment of relief that washes over him in a wave. At least he isn't going completely insane, unless he's hallucinating your voice, too. "We gotta get movin', girl. The gunshots would've gotten every infected for miles gatherin' round, we don't have much time before they come sniffin' around here to see what's goin’ on.”

You nod once again, pushing yourself to your feet. He can see your features a little better now, and he tries not to let his eyes linger on that tail of yours for too long.

You don't seem like much of a talker, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. At least you won't go yapping at him when he's gotta concentrate. It wouldn't do either of you any good if he went and got killed because you couldn't keep your trap shut. You're probably the quietest stray he's managed to pick up. Ellie can talk for hours when she gets going, which...is most of the time, if he's being honest. You're more cautious than she ever was, though, watching him carefully as he stands and takes a look around the room to gather supplies.

Joel checks back on you, not missing the way you're shivering. He frowns, taking off his jacket before holding it out to you. "Here, put this on.”

You don't take the jacket, or so much as answer him. His frown deepens, and he lets out a frustrated sigh, pulling the jacker over your shoulders. “It's just a damn jacket. It won't kill ya.”

The way you stare at him is starting to get unnerving, so he turns away from you to continue throwing anything of use into his backpack. Store's already been raided, though, so he seems to be left with the scraps. Just his luck — scraps and strays. All he ever seems to get.

“Thanks.” You end up saying softly after a moment, and when Joel looks back at you again, that little tail is wagging and you're wearing his jacket properly. He catches himself smiling, so he's quick to turn away, grabbing the map from his backpack before zipping it up. He's always had a thing for pretty girls in his clothes, but he's not gonna admit that.

“Don't mention it, kid.”

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

It's been about a week since Joel first saw you, and he's doing his best to keep his distance. You seem to settle in fairly nicely in Jackson — or, at the very lease, you fit in well enough with Ellie. Joel's having more than enough conflicting feelings around you to last a lifetime, and you're just a pup. You're already having to adjust to a new environment, you don't need someone like him confusing things.

That doesn't mean he can't watch you from afar, though. He's not sure he'd be able to stop himself if he tried. He can't help but watch as you and Ellie play together, noting how much brighter and happier you look since that day he saved you. Your tail wags so fast it's a blur behind you, your fur soft and fluffy now that it's been washed and brushed out.

Joel likes you more than he'd care to admit. He's already got enough people to worry about, between Tommy and Ellie, and everyone else in the damn community. He doesn't need to add you to that list.

Problem is, Ellie's gotten to know Joel, and she still hasn't grown out of being a little shit. As soon as she catches him sitting a little ways away from where she's playing with you, she decides it'd be real funny to throw the stick right at him. Joel barely has the time to catch the thing before you're on him, practically tackling in an attempt to get it from him.

“Alright… alright.” His tone comes out a little harsher than intended, and he can't help but feel bad as you shrink back, those fluffy ears pressing down against your head. Your tail stopped wagging, too, and you're giving him that kicked dog look. Makes him feel like a monster.

“Shit, I didn't mean-” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose after he sets the stick down, patting his lap for you to come closer again. He reaches out, scratching the base of one of your ears with a small smile. “You're alright, girl. Just… easy, yeah? No need to jump all over me.”

That seems to placate you enough, and all seems to be forgiven. You nod and lean into his touch, that cute tail of yours picking up tenfold. There's something oddly soothing about petting you, so he decides to indulge you a little, leaning back against the porch railings as he sits on the steps.

It isn't until he notices your droopy eyes and the way you're slowly inching closer to him, practically curled up on his lap, that he realizes the sun is setting, and he wasted most of the day with you. He can't bring himself to mind.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

What is it they say about stray dogs? You feed them once, and they're yours? Joel can't recall, but he's sure he's somehow managed to adopt a little pup with how you cling to him. He tried locking you out of his room one night, and he couldn't sleep with the way you clawed at the door, whining and whimpering to be let in.

You sleep with him now, and he can't say he dislikes the warmth your body brings when he curls up with you every night.

He's got his arm curled around your waist, that fluffy tail of yours resting between his legs and still somehow wagging as he spoons you. He can't help but rub little circles into your stomach with his thumb, his nose pressed against the nape of your neck. For a moment, he finds himself wondering how receptive you'd be if he started kissing the skin there, letting his breath ghost the spot where your baby hairs rest.

That's a dangerous line of thinking, one that he quickly snaps out of. He lets out a sigh, closing his eyes to try and get some rest. You must sense that he's tense, cause you start wriggling around in his arms until you're facing him.

“Joel?” You breathe out, nuzzling his neck with your nose. He can feel your breath on him, and he grits his teeth not to make an audible sound as you lick at him. It's supposed to be a comforting gesture, but it has him squirming for a whole number of reasons.

“I can feel you worryin’, pup. You ain't gotta stress about me.” He murmurs, gripping your hair gently to pull your face away from his neck. He can't focus with your tongue on him like that.

“You look sad.” You whine, pulling against the grip of his hair to keep licking at him. He knows you're just trying to cheer him up, but it's really not helping the way his dick is starting to swell. It's not your fault, you don't know what you're doing to him, but he feels sick letting himself get turned on by your innocent actions.

“Just - go to fuckin’ bed, alright?” He snaps, tugging you away hard enough he knows it probably stung a little. His mouth grows dry, an apology on the tip of his tongue as he watches you retreat, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“C'mon, girl. I didn't mean that, I just…” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, his features etching into a frown. “Look, just… c’mere, alright? I'm sorry.”

He shifts so he's lying on his back, doing his best to make sure you don't press up against him when he's in this state. He holds an arm out, and you come rushing forward, tucking yourself against his side. You really are like a dog, always running back to him. He doesn't like how it makes him feel.

His jaw tenses as he shuts his eyes, trying to block out the guilt festering in him as he feels wet tears against the front of his shirt. He can hear your quiet sniffles, but he has no idea how to comfort you, so he doesn't.

Joel does what he does best — pretends the issue isn't there. He scratches behind your ears until you drift off, but sleep doesn't come for him that night. He spends the rest of his time staring at the ceiling, waiting for the morning sun to come through the widows before he carefully removes himself from your slumbering form.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, tucking the covers around your body before he leaves the room. What he needs right now is a cold shower and a little hunting trip with Tommy to keep his mind off of things.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

The first thing he's greeted with after returning from his supply run is a sobbing pup. He didn't expect to see you so worked up — barely giving him enough time to dismount his horse before you were clinging to him, ears pulled back on your head and tail limp as you cried into his chest.

“Hey… hey, now. What's the matter, girl?” He whispers, dropping his bag to the floor so he can hug you back, one hand sliding down your back to scratch the base of your fluffy tail. “C'mon, now. I wasn't gone for that long, was I?”

“You didn't say bye.” Your words are muffled against his chest, that whiny tone still in your voice, but he can see the way your tail starts moving at his touch. Makes him feel a bit better about leaving you so suddenly. “You always say bye…”

“I didn't do it on purpose, sweetheart. You were sleepin’.” He says with a chuckle, unable to hide his amusement as you pressed against him. Felt like you were trying to become a part of him with how desperately you attempted to get closer.

“But… you were gone, and… I didn't know where you went.” You whisper, hands gripping onto his shirt tight enough that the fabric stays wrinkled when you let go in favor of hugging him.

“Doesn't mean I was leavin’ you. Just had to get some supplies.” He replies, even if it's technically a lie. It can never hurt getting some more stuff, but a group only went patrolling the day before he left. He did need the time away from you, to clear his head. He just couldn't let you know that.

“And, hey. I was thinkin’ of you the whole time. I even got you a lil’ somethin’.” He says after a moment, grabbing your shoulders to pry you off of him. He ignores the ache in his heart at your little whine in favor of unzipping his bag, holding something up and squeaking it.

Your eyes light up at the sound, and he really can't help the smile that spreads across his face at the sight. He throws the squeaky ball and watches you chase after it, laughing when you return with it in your mouth, biting down over and over to hear the noise.

“There we are. That's my girl.” He murmurs, ruffling your hair before wrapping an arm around your shoulder, squeezing you against his side. “C'mon, let's go and find Ellie. We got some catchin’ up to do, don't we?”

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Joel must be getting soft with old age. That's really the only explanation for what's going on. He's letting you sit on him like you're a damn lapdog all because you looked like you wanted a cuddle.

You look so damn cute, too. That tail of yours is going to be the death of him. Joel's heart does not flutter when you smile all prettily at him, nor does it flutter when you rub your face against his neck like you're trying to get his scent all over you.

No. Joel's heart is as cold as ice. He doesn't get warm, fuzzy feelings from cute puppy hybrids, and he certainly doesn't clear his throat to stop himself from saying something unbelievably sappy and embarrassing.

“You comfy there, darlin’? Like havin’ me take care of ya?” He murmurs, not missing the way his breath catches in his throat when you hum in agreement, licking at his skin. You don't seem to notice, so he doesn't mention it. Small mercies.

Maybe it's the whiskey, or maybe it's the way your warmth seeps into him and makes his heart race that has his brain malfunctioning, but he can't stop himself from saying what's been on his mind the past few weeks.

“You're such a pretty girl…” He whispers, nuzzling his nose against your hairline before pressing a gentle kiss there. His hands slide down to your waist, giving you a little squeeze. “So fuckin’ pretty. My pretty pup, ain't ya, sweetheart?”

That tail picks up again and he chuckles, sliding a hand down your back to scratch the base of your tail, tuning in to the steady thump, thump, thump of it slapping against his thighs. He gives your tail a little squeeze, stroking his hand over the fur.

“Ain't no hidin’ how you really feel with a tail like that.” He says with a small laugh, eyes locked onto the way your tail moves as he leans forward, pressing kisses down the side of your throat. He grins against your skin as your tail starts wagging faster, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh.

“Yeah? Y’like that, puppy?” He coos, the hand on your tail shifting to grab your ass, giving the plump flesh a little squeeze. The feeling of it has him groaning, his cock already starting to fill out. It's been a long, long time since he's gotten laid, and he'd be lying if he said he hasn't been having some conflicting feelings surrounding you as of late.

All he gets is a whine in response, your body shifting just a little closer to him. Joel grabs your hips, pushing you down against his lap so he can grind up against you, a grunt spilling past his lips. He glances back at your tail, rutting against you with more force when he sees the steady wag, the sight of it making his cock twitch with interest.

“God. Good fuckin’ girl.” He breathes out, rocking you against him for another minute before it gets too much for him. He can feel you soaking the fabric of your shorts, and he’s starting to get a little dizzy with all the blood in his body rushing south. He’s so hard it hurts, and he can’t help himself as he tugs off your shorts and underwear in one tug, unbuttoning his jeans and yanking his boxers down just enough so he can free his length from the constricting fabric.

You’re so wet he can sink into you in one thrust, holding you steady as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, panting softly as he takes a moment to catch his bearings. He presses his lips to the skin there, trailing kisses along the column of your throat. You’re so wet and tight and warm, and it's a struggle for Joel not to blow his load early with how much you’re squeezing around him.

”Pretty, pretty girl. You’re doin’ so well.” He murmurs as he starts to thrust up into you, the sounds of your little gasps and moans making his head spin. His grip on your hips tightens so he can guide you up and down his length, helping you move with every drag of his cock. The room fills with slick sounds as he fucks up into you, his head tilting back as he lets out a breathy moan.

He leans forward to kiss you, swallowing your whimpers as he slides his tongue into your mouth. The taste of smoke and whiskey lingers between the two of you, his teeth biting down on your bottom lip to give it a little tug before he pulls away, running his tongue over his teeth. He starts to bounce you on his cock, grunting as your walls flutter around him as he pounds into you. He reaches around to grip your tail, tugging on it to encourage you to keep riding him. His fingers play with the fur there, the upper half of your tail continuing to wag where it’s free from his hold.

”Makin’ such a mess, sweetheart. Soakin’ my jeans.” He huffs, grinding his tip against your sweet spot before he pulls you up by the tail, leaving only the tip of his cock in before yanking you back down with a groan. You’re so wet you’re dripping all down his shaft, soaking his balls and making the fabric bunched up beneath them wet with arousal.

”Gonna make you cum for me, pup. Then I’m gonna fill you up. You want that, girl?” He grits out between thrusts, brows pinching together as he watches you nod eagerly. He has to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning too loudly as his words make your cunt clench around him, trying to milk him dry.

”Alright, alright. I got you, doll.” He lets go of your tail, grabbing your hips to bury himself to the hilt inside of you. He adjusts the both of you a little so he can make you grind against his pelvis while keeping him nice and deep. He rocks your hips, making you grind your clit against his happy trail, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment at the friction the movement brings.

”Shit-“ He hisses as he feels you tensing around him, your orgasm sending him over the edge right after you. His jaw clenches as he shoots ropes of cum deep inside of you, his body slumping against the couch when he’s left spent and twitching inside your needy cunt.

”Just…” He starts after a moment, hands moving to rub up and down your back gently, coaxing you to lean against him. “Stay like this for me, yeah? You did good, pup. Such a good girl.”

He relaxes when you snuggle up to him, his softening cock nestled deep inside of you. There’s something oddly comforting about it, and it’s not long before he’s got his face buried in the crook of your neck, slowly dozing off as he runs his fingers through the fur on your tail. He thinks he could get used to this. He’s really starting to like having you around.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Joel's gotten into the habit of leaving you with Ellie when he has to go on those long patrols. He's never sure if he's gonna make it back, and there's no one in the world he trusts with you more than Ellie. He knows if something went wrong, the two of you would look after eachother, and that's enough to lessen the gnawing anxiety building in his chest whenever he has to leave.

Last thing he expects to see when he pushes open the door to his room is you and Ellie sleeping all curled up on his bed. It catches him off guard for a moment, but it's not long before a small smile breaks its way onto his face. He brushes some hair out of Ellie's eyes and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, giving you a small scratch behind the ears.

He sneaks his way out of the room, settling himself on the couch. He knows his back’s gonna be protesting the sleeping arrangement, especially after slumming in the past few days on the ground, but he can't find it in himself to care. He curls up awkwardly, letting out a grunt when his too-big frame can't fit fully on the couch.

Despite his discomfort, he feels content for the first time in a long while. He hasn't felt this kind of happiness since Sarah. For once, the thought that he could be happy without her, no matter how much he mourns her, doesn't fill him with dread. The guilt is still there, the thoughts of 'what if', but he lets himself feel them. He knows they're never gonna leave him, and there's no point trying to force them away.

He never wants to forget Sarah, to replace her. There's always gonna be a massive space in his heart that's taken up by her, and there's no one that's gonna change that. But for once, he thinks he's happy with the little family he's got. The strays he's collected. He knows he can honor her memory by doing his best to survive, act like a dad she could've been real proud of.

Joel isn't a very religious man, but he knows he'll see his daughter again, one day. He cries himself to sleep that night, but for once the sobs that rack his body aren't filled with dread. It isn't him giving up, sitting around feeling sorry for himself.

They're tears of exhaustion, yes. But also relief. Hope. He can start again, live his life how he should've been these past few years. Really live, instead of just forcing himself to keep pushing through. Not just for you, but for Ellie. Tommy, too.

His family.

[theaceace]

I know that canonically (show-wise, at least) St Hilarion's worked to cover up Charles' death, and nothing was ever really done about the disappearance of Edwin and the other boys, but even so, do you think the school has a reputation for being haunted??

I'm imagining Niko following various ghost-hunter groups online, especially when the agency doesn't have many cases going on, and occasionally the boys will mirror hop over to an interesting-sounding location, and they'll even get a real case as a result

So when she tells them that one of the teams is planning to investigate St Hilarion's (either it's been closed for a while or they have special permission to go during the summer holidays), Edwin and Charles steel themselves and decide to go, in case there are other ghosts there that need help ('can't imagine a worse place to be trapped for the rest of my afterlife' says Charles, who has been to literal hell. Edwin, who spent 70 years in literal hell, agrees)

So they go, with Niko and Crystal as moral/emotional support, except when they get there they realise they've fucked up and are there on the same day/night as the ghost hunters. They could come back some other time, but what if there really are ghosts here that are suffering? No one wants to take that chance, so Crystal uses her powers to convince them that she and Niko are there for work experience, or are friends of a friend, or are here to replace one of the tech guys who called in sick

Both Charles and Edwin are tense and uncomfortable returning to the place they died - Edwin had gone there after he escaped Hell because he didn't know where else to go, but they've built themselves a home now with the agency. This isn't like before, when it was the closest place to familiar he could find. Charles, meanwhile, feels colder and colder the longer they're there - his hair is wet, there are bruises flaring and spreading, and a faint rattle in his chest that would have become pneumonia if he'd lived long enough

But they need to be sure there aren't any other lost ghosts stuck here that need their help crossing over, so they keep going

(maybe, as a consequence of a door to hell being opened in the school, there are unusual happenings, maybe there's still a place where the line between earth and hell is very thin, maybe there's some fragment of a demon left behind, and they can do something about it)

Anyway, the most important thing is that Charles, either accidentally or in a fit of pique at the whole situation, knocks something over just as one of the paranormal investigators is asking for spirits to make their presence known. In fact, this happens repeatedly - the boys move things, change things around, their presence is detected somehow with the equipment. Crystal and Niko are doing their best to distract the team and ruin as much of the footage as possible, and at least once the boys do something on purpose, maybe because someone is being a creep to the girls (and yes, they both know that Crystal and Niko are more than capable of taking care of themselves, but this way scares the asshole more and is also funnier), and then also to fuck with their readings

Anyway, it's coming to the end of the night, the problem has been identified, and whaddaya knows, of course it's in the attic where they both died. This is fine, why wouldn't it be fine. They get started, draw some (invisible, ghostly) runes and start working their magic when, of course, the paranormal investigators turn up, because this is thought to be the most 'active' area of the school, and the body of a schoolboy was found here in the 80s

Yeah, they try to contact 'any of the boys who disappeared in 1916' and Charles. It would be fine if they weren't so irritatingly loud, Edwin's trying to concentrate, and Charles is now shivering and dripping wet, but they managed to ignore the team right up until they start speculating that Charles was killed by one of the angry spirits from 1916

At which point, Charles - half visible, clearly enraged, looking very much like the half-drowned and frozen kid he was, like a proper ghost - tells them to fuck off already before they get hurt, they don't understand anything, and how dare they give a shit now when it's too late

Which is, of course, the exact moment Edwin finishes the spell, and causes some sort of a magical rebound that fritzes the cameras for a second, throws furniture around, and knocks them all flying. When the cameras start up again, they catch Edwin kneeling by Charles, holding his hand, and softly telling him that it's ok, it's over, they can go now. Charles sniffs and smiles and knocks their foreheads together and says yeah, let's get out of here, and together they fade from view

The investigators think this means gay love can pierce the veil of death and save the day that now that the truth of their story is known the ghosts have moved on, and it's all thanks to them! How beautiful, how wonderful, how affirming! Perhaps one of the boys from 1916 tried to help Charles, and when that didn't work, they both stayed to try and protect other people from these violent spirits, and now their unfinished business is finished! It's so tragic and touching story

Charles and Edwin, who are putting their tools back in the backpack, roll their eyes and smile at each other

On the way out, Charles swipes the memory cards from the cameras, Edwin inscribes a couple of sneaky runes on various pieces of equipment to fuck with it, and Crystal uses her powers to make sure they all remember a couple of details differently, so later they won't be able to agree on a bunch of stuff

The episode they were trying to make can't be released, their social media posts about the experience are full of details that don't match up, and fans are bitterly disappointed

Crystal and Niko watch the footage Charles stole with Jenny and the Night Nurse back at the agency. Jenny turns it into a drinking game. Charles does a dramatic reading of the posts with added commentary while Edwin pretends he's not laughing. They buy t-shirts of the paranormal investigators and wear them ironically. They leave anonymous comments

Just. The dead boy detectives having to work around ghost hunters, in a world where ghosts definitely, tangibly exist

[11cupid-tarot11]

What has your future spouse been dreaming about lately?

For the divine feminine seeking the divine masculine •°. *࿐

1 -> 4

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Pile 1- The Chariot, Two of Swords, The Hanged Man

I'm getting the feeling your spouse really wants to make a move on you! He's dreaming about what it's like to be all in your space, he really wants to know what you're like. I was thinking at first that maybe he wants to spend time with you and know what it would be like to do mundane things with you like grocery shopping, but I think this guy is more curious than that. I think he wants to know just about you in general and what you like doing, he's the type to watch what you pick up and glance at during shopping just to get a feel of what you like. He wants to know your schedule, how your day went, he'll probably ask this a lot.

I feel like this person has a crush on you? He feels kinda stuck, like the hanged man lol. I'm not sure the circumstances or the dynamic of the relationship/how you'll come together but it surely feels like this person is very secretive with his thoughts of you, like he's very open telling me but he's scared to tell you? Like maybe this is someone you know of and you guys are friends and they're secretly crushing lol, that was very specific so it's okay if it doesn't resonate with everyone. This could also be a secret admirer for some.

But he's dreaming about changing something with you, planting roots and something stable. I'm not sure what the change will be, but I am seeing him thinking of different approaches to overcome whatever hardship is happening between you two, it could also be something on their end like maybe shadow work still needs to be done or they're still dealing with a karmic relationship of some sort.

It seems to me like they're sorting through everything, they might fantasize about things finally coming to an end and being able to start something with you. I know as soon as this is finished they're spreading towards you. I think they really just want you to know they're still coming? I got this rush feeling, like an adrenaline rush feeling? I think this person just wants you to know they're still clearing through some things! "Just hang in a little longer!" I'm hearing with a cute little smiley face ☺️. Your person is adorable! I think they love acts of service too!

I think if this were to be a 18+ reading they'd definitely tell you about all of the things they'd love to focus on your body and needs lol.

I have to make an 18+ version of this now 😂 stay tuned!

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Pile 2- Six of Coins, Eight of Swords in reverse, The moon, Temperance, Ten of Cups.

Your person dreams about spoiling you, pampering you, taking you out on really fancy dates (plus showing you off 😵‍💫) just treating you like you are their everything. I hear it's because you are their everything! They adore you so much!

This person talks a lot too and wanted to pull extra cards when I usually only do a three card pull spread lol.

This card makes me feel like your person kinda feels like a spider stuck in it's own web right now, they're really in their head :( I getting your person has a negative mindset? For some of you it could be specific as they feel like they're not on the same level as you whatever that might mean to them. They dream about cutting out of their web, I think for the benefit of the connection really but also for their piece of mind, yk?

Maybe this person feels like they have to achieve a certain amount of wealth before they come to you, which goes hand in hand what I was saying about really wanting to spoil you lol they want to save up a bunch so they can have a great future with you and for those of you who want children they also want to build a family for you so of course they want to save for this too.

They dream about having a steady home with you, I think they like to fantasize about your future a lot lol. They say it won't be perfect but it'll be the definition of love like a real family should be lol. They want a balance with you, they're also the type to be very balanced in a relationship, they'll balance work and you at the same time. I honestly get the vibe that's why they're working so hard right now, so they can spend the rest of their time with you more!

I think this person dreams about the day you two unite! With the ten of cups I feel they dream about a happy home with you a lot, but also a happy relationship. I can guarantee this relationship will be very fulfilling and healing and loving. Their energy feels so excited to meet you if you guys haven't already, a healthy and loving relationship could be something they've always wished for so this is a wish fulfillment for them, they can't wait to experience real love with you. 🩵 The color blue might be specific for a few of you?

Don't forget to do the poll below! Talk to you soon love :))

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Pile 3- Knight of Coins, Justice (clarification cards- Death, and Strength), Two of Wands, Seven of Cups (clarification cards- Ten of Cups), and King of Swords (clarification cards- Knight of Wands)

I needed so much clarification for this group xD

Every time I look at the ducks eyes they always look so full of administration, anyone else see it? It's adorable. I channeled right away your person will adore you like this picture so I chose it!

I heard they think about this every day straight away lol.

Your future spouse fantasizes about putting hard work into you, really showing up for you I'm feeling. Like I feel like it's deeper than a materialistic matter, I feel like he really wants to support you emotionally. He doesn't want to be your therapist or anything it's like he just wants to make sure you're okay, he really cares about your well being. A better way to put this is that they really want to show up as a man in your life, one that doesn't have a toxic sense of masculinity and really respects women and wants to understand your needs, wants and boundaries I'm hearing. He likes to solve your problems because your problems are his problems.

He's dreaming about justice in a situation, I'm going to pull clarification cards for the Justice card to help understand a bit better because I want to know possibly in what situation, I can't figure that out on my own I'm not hearing much channeling on this card. The clarification cards just are making me feel it's probably a too personal situation they don't want me to know about, but maybe when you meet this person you will know because it's making me feel like it's linked to you, he probably doesn't want you to understand much either right now but he says he's working hard on getting justice in a situation he really wants to come to an end soon, I think when it's over it'll bring a lot of happiness, a shift in energy, a really big change :) He wants you to encourage him to be strong as he encourages you, it's a very tough situation maybe? Heavy energy kind of just came through me, like a little random rush of sadness just thinking about the question so I will move on now :)

This person fantasizes about making everything perfect a lot in a way, he really likes to plan. You'll notice this about them right away lol. They probably have a hectic schedule right now I'm hearing. They're possibly planning on how to get to you? This feels like a soulmate connection, something that's just supposed to happen because it just makes so much sense because you two love each other and really care for one another. This is someone who you can spend the rest of your life with because they're confident you two are a perfect match. Very equal in the relationship which is why it would work perfectly I'm hearing. He's just doing a bunch of planning right now, lots of thinking things over and through.

He dreams about probably having a lot of money, a level of fame? Maybe he's a celebrity or wants to be, he could be very creative and expensive. He dreams a lot very dreamy they could have water in their chart, they do feel emotional. They're so cute 😭

This person dreams about picking a path and advancing in it basically, they really want to be the boss, be at the top of their game whatever career or field it might be. They want a lot of abundance! They fantasize about being given an opportunity to present themselves, show off maybe. They could be a really good singer/rapper or some kind of performer. They could play an instrument.

I feel like they really want to settle down with you for sure though, they want to offer you a lot as well so they work really hard to show up financially, they could've grown up in poverty I'm hearing a specific message for some of you so being financially stable is everything for them. They want you right by their side ;)

This person was kinda hard to read but I think that's cause how dreamy they felt, thoughts kinda bouncing around everywhere haha, so take this how it resonates with you!

Don't forget to do the poll below!! Talk to you soon!

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Pile 4- Seven of Coins, The Magician (clarification cards- Three of wands), Seven of Wands (clarification cards- Death and Queen of Swords)

This person wants to start off with the seven of wands first even though it was the last card to be pulled lol.

They want to maybe draw attention to dreaming about fighting for something? They are very protective and will stand their ground and fight for what's theirs. I can't really tell, so I'm going to ask for clarification ;) I don't know why but I feel like they want to sabotage a relationship between you and someone else? I feel like they fantasize about this a lot! I feel like your energy is the Queen of wands but you don't really see this person! This could be a clue your future spouse is someone you already know!

They dream about making you theirs lol stealing you away. 😋

So with that, they're also dreaming about the future with you! Working on their finances as well, but also thinking about what it would be like in the future with you. This person feels like they're confident they will have a future with you lol. Maybe they're not making a move right now because they want to build up their finances more for the long run with you, because when they do make a move on you they plan to commit deeply and I'm hearing they fell hard for you, and you possibly don't even know it 😵‍💫.

😭 🩷 you probably drive this person crazy lmao

He's probably manifesting you lol?

I asked for clarification for the magician as well and it just makes me think he's really brainstorming a lot right now? I think every pile had a lot of thinking in them but never really being too specific on what and I'm always left with so much quietness so I'm left in the dark😭

They're just really thinking a lot which makes me think it's only about you. They seem shy, they could be younger than you? They seem like they're too scared to tell you how they really feel. Could be scared of rejection? But they really do fantasize about you a lot! They think about you constantly and different ways to impress you, how to get your attention. They really want you my pile 4's and they're fighting hard hehe. They won't back down either!

They think you're very pretty, like the bunny in the picture 😻. Hehe cute.

They might call you princess a lot, or other cute little pet names. They feel very affectionate, they have a lot of love to give! This person isn't someone to be scared of, they do care about you! It's not all about lust, there's love here as well as admiration! They do adore you!

Don't forget to do the poll below!! Talk again soon love!!

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[fuck-customers]

I have been following you guys for awhile and have had so many fuck customers moments but last week I had the one that takes the cake because I thought I was about to die. I figured it was worth submitting.

For some backstory, I'm a graphic designer at a signs & awards shop. We do A LOT of different stuff for A LOT of different people/companies. (Including vehicle wraps, this is important for later.) I had been working with a set of customers (3 guys, also important) with a design for a while and they were being difficult. Nitpicking everything, wanting me to use copyrighted images, not understanding that I am not a magician and cant just poof exactly what they want into existence. I need TIME to do things and they aren't my only customers. They also don't have emails so all proofs were done by them coming into the shop.

So last Thursday I woke up with a terrible sore throat after going to bed feeling like garbage the night before. I'm super prone to strep throats so I scheduled an appointment at 8:30 am to get a test done. I could have scheduled earlier but I knew the customers were coming by at 8:00 am to see the designs and I wanted to be there.

I clock in at 7:45 am and have everything ready for them. By 8:20 am they have still not shown up and I can't wait any longer to head to my appointment. Thankfully I tested negative and when I got back to work by boss told me they were in at 9:30 and wanted to talk to me about the design and would come back by at 3:00 pm. I said cool and went about my day.

At 2:00 pm I get a call from my husband saying he was injured at work. He is a PE teacher at a school for kids with behavior issues so it's not unusual that he has an injury however this was a head injury and the on site nurse is going to take a look and make sure it doesn't need stitches and stops bleeding. Cause you know head wounds.

At 3:15 pm, my guys still haven't shown up. My husband is cleared as not needing anything immediately but is calling the company's workman's comp to get stuff sorted. He can't drive so he has a coworker drop him off at my job. He's chilling with me while I keep working and he takes care of the calls. Around 3:45 he realizes the head wound is still bleeding some and he needs to go to the walk in. I head out at 4:00 pm and my boss says he will take care of the guys if they bother to show up. My husband ended up needing two staples and is doing fine.

The next morning, I get to work around 7:45 am. There is a white truck, our company truck and a couple of my coworkers cars in the parking lot. Because we do a lot of vehicle wraps its not unusual for there to be vehicles dropped off overnight so I think nothing of the white truck. But as I am approaching the door and pulling my keys out I hear some doors slam and a male voice say "Not getting away from us this time!"

Guys, I thought I was about to die! Who says that to a woman alone in a parking lot? I spin around prepared to chuck my coffee and run when I realize it's the customers. I glare at them before turning back around and heading in the door. After I clocked in I had my boss wait on them. I also handed the order off to one of my male coworkers because I am not messing with them anymore. You can't blame me for not being there when you consistently miss appointments and then scare the shit out of me before I am even clocked in.

Posted by admin Rodney

[put-me-through-the-wall]

Girl Next Door- Pt. 2

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: Simon finally accept your offer for dinner. Did you mention you can cook?

A/N: I was a little slow on this but the idea of them getting close was stressing me out, okay? Also my MIL was in town and I couldn't get in the groove. All the support so far is amazing, thank you guys so much! If y'all like it there will be more to come. Warning: still slow burning

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Part I

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Simon sits across from you at your tiny dining table pressed against the wall of your cramped kitchen. You managed to lure him in with a fairly nice bottle of unopened scotch you found in the back of your cabinet that had potentially fallen into one of your own boxes when moving from your ex's house. 

He looks around your quaint little one bedroom apartment. It was a lot different than his own. The literal layout was the same. No extra rooms or walls but you’d done something different in here. The whole space had a cozy feeling to it. Every surface was decorated with useless gadgets and trinkets that he didn't understand the purpose of. Lots of blankets, pillows, soft things. You had music quietly playing through your TV speakers in the living room. A few lamps fill the dim room creating a subtle yellow glow that hits the high points of your face, softening your tired features.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" you suddenly blurt out.

"S'cuse me?" Simon asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Lately I've been feeling like there's something inside of me that attracts horrible guys. Like, is there a beacon coming out my head that says 'hey, come over here. I'm vulnerable and easy'."

Simon pauses, unsure how to respond. He watches your face closely. You're sad eyes looking to him for an answer he doesn't have. "I think you're...nice," but he has a feeling that's not what you wanted to hear.

"nice?" You let out a humorless laugh. "Maybe that's the problem. Nice must translate to doormat," You sigh and drop your head into your hands. 

Simon takes a sip of his drink. He's growing concerned this is entering too friendly territory. Then you pop your head back up.

"So, how much did you hear?"

"Not much"

"Yeah right," You toss him a coy smile. “Can I tell you what happened?”

“Sure,”

“Alright, so” you take a sip of your own drink and a deep breath before recounting your story. "I met him at work. He was really nice and offered to pick me up a coffee on his way in one day. I haven’t made any friends at work yet so it was nice just to chat over a coffee. Then we started having lunch together. Nothing serious just in the break room but it felt good to hear about something other than notes from my editor. I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I mean I moved here to focus on myself not continue dating more crappy guys. So of course he started texting me and he was really sweet. He complimented my outfits and thought all my jokes were hilarious apparently. I really wasn’t trying to get involved with this guy though. He said something about hearing I can cook and of course I said I do. It’s part of my job, duh. He’s giving my shit about it so I invited him over for dinner. I made this creamy potato gnocchi with Italian sausage that I got from that great butcher on the corner. I even hand rolled the gnocchi. I mean, who wouldn't kill for an authentic Italian meal?"

"He's sounds like some guy"

"Not really, I was testing out a new recipe for the column so, two birds one stone. Anyways, he comes up and we have some wine and listen to some music. It was going really well so far. Then I go to bring out a nice charcuterie board for an appetizer while the pasta finishes baking. While I'm bringing it to him I can see he's on his phone, texting someone and literally giggling. I walk up behind him and he is sexting. On my couch!" you throw you hands up incredulously. "Well, I thought he was. He’s looking at a picture of some girl bent over then I realize it’s me. He took a picture of my ass, while I was making him dinner. I couldn't fucking believe it. What kind of a scumbag does that to a woman preparing a fucking meal for him? Now, this is not something I'm proud of so let the record show this is very out of character for me but these were extraordinary circumstances. So, I dropped the fig chutney on his head. Right in his stupid quaffed hair. He jumps up and he's all mad and starts yelling and I'm yelling back. He calls me a crazy bitch then I call him a perv. After that he left." you conclude with a shrug.

"Wow" Simon responds, truly taken aback by the series of events. 

"Yeah, then you know the rest from there. I don't know what came over me. I guess after my last breakup I haven't felt very good about myself and this guy made me feel, I don't know- fun? That feels silly to say. I should’ve known better from a guy that works the celebrity gossip section. I probably looked like a big baby out there, how dramatic. I'm sorry about that, again."

"You don't need to apologize."

"After I moved here I thought things would be different. I thought guys in the city were classier I guess. Turns out all guys are the same. Just take what they want and go. Do you want another drink?" You point to his now empty glass. 

"Sure." You snag his cup and stand. He watches you walk over to the counter in your silky slip dress. The sleek fabric clings to your waist. Flaring around your hips and down your thighs. The warm light reflects on the shiny material, shifting with each step you take. It tightens perfectly about your waist and cinched with a neat little bow in the back. He wonders why you would wear a dress like that for this guy.

"So, do you date?" you question in a seemingly casual tone.

"No" 

"Yeah right," you laugh and look over your shoulder to see his stoney expression and your smile fades. "Oh, sorry, I just- I find that hard to believe."

"Why is that?" He tilts his head and you focus back on filling his glass. 

"It's just, you're a good looking guy. I would think you'd get plenty of female attention," You pivot back around and place the glass before him. You lean on the table with one hand and prop the other on your waist. 

"'M not interested," his gaze stays fixed on the brown liquid, grabbing it and taking another sip. He doesn't miss the way you deflated the slightest bit. 

"Maybe I should take a page out of your book, as in maybe swearing off men completely" The oven timer dings. "Oh! pasta!" You jump over and grab your oven mitts. You drop the oven door and slide out the sizzling dish. An aroma of cheese and basil fills the air. Your stomach audibly growls.

You pull down two plates from your cabinet. You serve up the steaming pasta, sprinkling parmesan and fresh chopped herbs for garnish. You proudly carry over the two dishes and place them carefully on the table. You place your hands on your hips while gazing down at the platter.

"This looks...great." Simon is truly taken aback by the incredible looking dish. 

"Wait, don't eat yet. Let me get a picture." You scamper into your living room, grabbing your phone off the coffee table and scurrying back. You hold your phone high above for a birds eye view. Simon scoots his chair back to avoid the gaze of the lens. The camera clicks with a flash. You examine the photo, seeming satisfied with the quality and finally taking a seat in your own chair. "It was okay if you were in the picture. I don't mind." 

"I do," he says simply. 

To anyone else, Simon comes off as rude or callous but you, you never seem to let his shortness affect you. You take his words and just keep going. You don't mind his lack of conversation. It seems you are totally satisfied with having someone there to listen. He was starting to think he didn't mind listening so much. 

"Oh," You shift uncomfortably in your chair. "Sorry then. Well, let me know what you think. Try to be detailed with your feelings about it if you can. You're my guinea pig and be honest. I don't want to put this out when it's garbage."

He proceeds to take a forkful in his mouth. He cannot control the groan that escapes his throat as the bold flavor hits his tongue. This is far cry from his usual take away food. He can't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal now that he thinks about it. 

"This is quite good." He grumbled between bites. Not caring to finish chewing before he's stabbing at the pasta on the plate once again. 

"Really? You don't need to be nice to spare my feelings. I don't mind criticism."

He shoves more in his mouth. "I’m serious"

"Thank you" You giggle watching him scarf down the still steaming hot meal. 

The two of you finish your respective plates without much more conversation to be had. On your last few bites you meet Simon's eyes as he reclines back in the creaky wooden chair, hands laying across his stomach. His head tips back with a satisfied grumble making a proud smile play across your lips. This may be the first time you've seen him express a true human emotion in your presence. 

"There's more if you want?"

"No, I'm stuffed." 

If you know one thing as a part time chef, food is the way to a man's heart. You knew if Simon tasted what you could make his ice exterior would melt away. You stand up and walk to the fridge. 

"Too stuffed for dessert?" you pull out a glass bowl filled with layers of custard, strawberries, cake, and whipped cream. "I made a traditional English trifle. Y'know for the holidays coming up and who doesn't love custard?" you shrug while carrying the bowl over to the table. You hurry back to the kitchen to grab two saucers and plate up the dessert.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to butter me up." he comments, intently watching as you carefully slice through the layers. "What do you know about English food?" 

"Not much, which is why this is a special occasion. I can get some insight from a genuine Englishman," you slide the saucer to him. "Everything happens for a reason, I guess you were meant to be here tonight" you don’t realize how weird that comment is until it's already left your mouth. You suppress the feeling and internally cringe. You take a seat with your own plate and try a bite. "Hey, that's not too bad. I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud"

Simon actually chuckles when you compliment yourself making you giggle in return. This whole night is very different than you expected. Not that you were complaining.

Your leg bumps his underneath the narrow table. Your bare foot brushing up the edge of his pant leg for the briefest moment. A deep blush rises to your cheeks the second you realize it's his leg instead of the table's. 

"Oh, sorry!" you quickly draw your legs underneath your chair. Simon pauses his eating and meets your gaze. 

"S'alright," he slowly slides his long leg across the distance and nudges the shin of your tucked legs with the toe of his boot. "You scared?"

"What?" you allow your legs to relax, your calves sitting on either side of his outstretched leg. It felt natural, almost domestic. "You don't scare me." you're lying paired with an anxious laugh.

"No?" As he says this his foot shifts underneath the supports of your chair and yanks it forward causing your chair to skid a few inches across the tile, pressing you further into the table as you let you a surprised yelp. Hands brace against the edge of the table. Simon maintains his calm composure. "Are you sure?" he takes another bite of the fluffy dessert. 

You weren't sure if it was the liquor going to your head or the rush of adrenaline but you felt bold. You rest your cheek on your propped up hand, offering the most innocent eyes you can muster, as you delicately slide your foot along the smooth leather of his boot. Simon swallows and gently places his fork back on the table.

"What do you think of it?" you question in a hushed tone. your foot travels further up his ankle, dipping under his pant leg to feel his hot skin underneath. 

"It's sweet," He states simply but his words roll off his tongue smooth as butter. 

"Not too sweet?" You tilt your head the slightest bit.

"Hm," he hums in contemplation. Your eyes drift down to watch his hands grasp his drink. He grips the glass in his large palm. The rolled sleeves of his long sleeve reveal the muscles in his arm shifting when he raises the glass to his mouth. For the first time you notice a faint raised scar cutting through the outer corner of his lip and stopping just shy of the edge of his nose. He takes a long swig of the brown liquid, not quite finishing the drink. As he pulls back his lips glisten in the warm light. "Not bad when it's paired with a stiff drink," his tongue is quick to swipe across, collecting the residue. 

"I'll be sure to make a note of that." you smile sweetly. "Can I get you another drink?" You look down at the last sip coating the bottom of the glass. You make sure to flutter your lashes when you look back up at him. 

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" A smirk raises the corner of his mouth.

"No," you laugh. "Why, do you want me to?" 

He releases a deep gravelly laugh that makes your stomach stir. Then he glances at his watch and your stomach drops. 

"I need to get going." He mumbles. He pulls his leg away from yours and rises out of his chair. 

"Wait," you rush to stand, almost knocking your seat over in the process. "Can I- uh- get you a bit of pasta to go? There’s plenty left" Trying to think of any excuse to keep him here a moment longer. 

"S'okay, save it. Maybe I'll come by another time." He turns and steps out of your kitchen and into the hallway leading to your front door in only a few wide strides. 

"Are you sure?" You don't intend for your voice to come out as needy as it does. You follow on his heels like a lost puppy.

"I've got an early morning." Before he reaches the door he turns, seemingly surprised by how close you are to him. He looks down at your big round eyes. 

"Okay," you smile trying not to look defeated. "Well, you're welcome over anytime. I mean it, just knock and I'll probably be home. I'm gonna try writing at home more. Try to avoid that guy." You let out a halfhearted chuckle. "Maybe, you should get my number. Y'know, in case you want to check if I'm home."

"I'm alright, I'll just knock" His hand finds the doorknob. "Thanks for dinner, it was nice" Then he turns to go. Closing the door politely behind him. 

You rush to the peephole, watching his distorted figure step out of sight followed by the sound of his own door shutting. You rest your hot forehead against the cool wood grain of your door. 

You step back in the kitchen and begin putting away the leftovers. Piling the pasta into tupperware, rinsing the plates, collecting silverware. His glass remains in place with a sliver of scotch leftover. You hold the glass up in the light and see a faint smudge on its rim. You twist the cup around so your own mouth lines up with the imprint he left. You swallow the last bit slowly, savoring the way the sharp burn eases into a smooth, smoky aftertaste. You never liked scotch, but now you are starting to understand the meaning of an acquired taste.

The low atmospheric music is abruptly interrupted by an ad loudly cutting through the calm space. You rush into the living room to find the remote, hiding among the cushions and various throw pillows. Growing frustrated you end up walking over and manually hitting the power button. The silence that replaces it isn’t much better though. You step back and let your weak legs carry you until you collapse onto the comfort of your couch. The wine followed by the glass of scotch you polished off makes your head feel light but your limbs so heavy. You turn from your back to your side, realizing the used glass is still clutched in your hand. 

You reach across the gap and set it down on the coffee table with a thud. Your hand retreats back to rest under your head. You stare at it, taking in all the imperfections left on its reflective surface. Your eyes trace the rim once again looking for the smudge. On the corner you see the shadow of an impression peeking out underneath the red lipstick mark you have smeared over it. 

𝜗𝜚

Across the wall Simon falls back on his own couch. He looks around his dull apartment wondering what you have done differently to make your place look so welcoming. He never minded the minimal decorations he had. A photo frame with his team that his buddy gifted him and a couple of books always seemed like enough. After comparison though it just feels empty. 

He can hear you stomp across your floor. Footstep rushing from the kitchen until you're straight ahead. The sound of your TV turning off bathes the room in sudden silence. Only thing he can hear now is the rushing of his air conditioning unit. He considered your music annoying but now he couldn’t deny the way it added an unconscious energy to the small unit. Now sitting here, the cool tone of the overhead kitchen light illuminating into the living room he feels as though something is missing. Maybe a nice lamp would help. 

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@azkza @neurolept @contractedcriteria @hidden-treasures21 @sprokat @stark-red19

[siythn]

Cruel Summer (feat. Megumi Fushiguro) [Limited Edition CD]

MEGUMIXREADER! It seemed like summer just brought the both of you together somehow. Although, you and Megumi had always been kind of attached. Maybe it was the hot summer days, or the secrecy of your relationship. One thing was for sure, you wouldn't mind it being longer than a summer fling. ❝AND I SNUCK THROUGH THE GARDEN GATE, EVERY NIGHT THAT SUMMER JUST TO SEAL MY FATE❞ (LOVER MASTERLIST)

The mission had been brutal, it’s obvious by the bags starting to appear under your eyes. As you and Megumi walked back to Jujutsu Tech, you couldn't help but notice the deep frown etched on his face, his brow furrowed in that all-too-familiar expression of annoyance.

"What's so funny?" he asked, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

You stifled another giggle, trying to compose yourself but failing miserably. "It's just. . .you look like you ate something sour. I can't take you seriously when you're making that face."

Megumi's frown deepened, as if to convince you to feel sorry for him. The glint of amusement in his eyes spoke louder. "I'm injured, you know. A little sympathy wouldn't hurt."

You nudged his shoulder playfully. "Oh, poor Megumi. Should I get you some candy to cheer you up?"

He huffed, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching, fighting a smile. "You're impossible."

Unable to contain your laughter, you burst out giggling, slightly turning away from him to hide your face; trying to stop the attack. "And you're grumpy. It's a perfect match."

Without warning, Megumi shoved your shoulder lightly, causing you to stumble forwards. "Hey!" you exclaimed, still laughing. "What was that for?"

"For being a pain," he shot back, but his tone was light, and you could see the humor caught in the corner wrinkles of his eyes. He slowed his pace, letting you catch up, and you walked side by side in comfortable silence for a few moments.

As you entered the nursery at Jujutsu Tech, Megumi's steps became more deliberate, you quickly picked on the limp every two steps. Concern replaced your laughter as you saw the extent of his injuries, before it came to a stop. "Come on," you said gently, guiding him to a comfortable chair. "Let's get you patched up."

Megumi sat with stillness on the padded chair, wincing slightly as he shrugged off his bloodstained jacket. "You don't have to do this, you know," he muttered, eyes flicking to the side as he watched you gather the first aid supplies. Despite his words that came off in embarrassment, it was clear he was appreciative of the act.

You smiled, unfazed. "Someone has to take care of you, and it's certainly not going to be you." You knelt beside him, carefully dabbing at the gash on his arm with antiseptic. "Hold still."

He hissed slightly at the sting, and you couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, come on, Megumi. You've faced curses that would make most people faint, and you're flinching at a little alcohol?"

"Maybe I just like the attention," he retorted, a smirk playing at his lips. His dark hair fell into his eyes, but even through the strands, you could see the mischief he carried within himself.

Rolling your eyes, you began wrapping the bandage around his arm, deliberately pulling it a tad too tight. He cringed, making you grin up at him. "Oops, sorry about that. Guess I'm just nervous being so close to a big, tough sorcerer like you."

Megumi's smirk widened. "Oh, really? Because it seems to me you're taking advantage of my weakened state."

You shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe I am. Someone has to keep you in check."

As you finished securing the bandage, you gave his arm a gentle pat. "There, all done. Now, let's see if we can get rid of that pain." Leaning in, you pressed a light kiss to his bandaged arm, looking up at him with a tease in your eye. "Better?"

Megumi's gaze softened, and in a swift movement, he reached out, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Not quite," he murmured before capturing your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss.

Caught off guard, you felt your heart race, a deep warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the hot summer day. As you kissed him back, you couldn't help but smile, breaking away just enough to whisper, "People are going to see us." You cast a quick glance around, but the nursery seemed as deserted as ever. But still, that itchy feeling of paranoia gnawed at your mind.

You can’t really place when you officially started to like the black-haired male. It just sort of came to you one hot day in July, watching him train with his divine dogs. As odd of a sight it was, you couldn’t help the admiration in your stare.

It wasn’t long before Megumi picked it up. While the both of you shared a meal, you slipped up and confessed. One look from him confirmed your feelings, and the both of you accepted the terms of this new relationship. The both of you sworn to keep it hidden, although. Plus, it made your skin crawl to think of Yuji and Nobara pestering the both of you about it.

You couldn’t help but like the secrecy, moments like these made it more exciting to experience young love. It was obvious Megumi probably liked it more.

"Let them," Megumi replied, his voice low and firm, pulling you back into another kiss. This time, you let yourself let go the moment, forgetting the thoughts that intruded your mind. His lips were soft but insistent, and you melted into the embrace.

When you finally parted, both of you were breathless, faces mere inches apart. The reason why the both of you ending up in the nursery long forgotten. The golden sunlight filtered through the shutters of the window above, casting a warm glow on Megumi's features. His usually stoic expression was softened by the tender moment, his dark eyes holding an emotion you’ve had the chance to see with this new profound relationship.

"You're really something, you know that?" you said softly, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

He smiled, a rare genuine smile that not many had the privilege to say they see everyday, it made your heart skip a beat. "I could say the same about you."

For a moment, you both just stared at each other, time not seeming to bother the both of you. The sunlight highlighted the contours of his face, making his eyes appear even more intense. You felt a giggle bubble up inside you, unable to contain the joy of the moment.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you let out a soft laugh. "We're a mess, aren't we?"

Megumi chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Maybe, but I wouldn't have it any other way." He wrapped an arm snug around your waist, holding you close.

As you sat there together, the sun setting and casting long shadows across the garden, you couldn’t find the motivation to care if the both of you got caught. As long as you were here, wrapped in his arms, what would really hurt you?

BONUS SCENE: The sun was setting, casting a warm golden hue over the Jujutsu Tech pool. It wasn’t used much, but when it was, it had always been a field day.

Clearly that reflected on you and Megumi sitting on the pool's edge, thoroughly exhausted from your splash fight and playful wrestling in the water. Both of you were soaked, bathing suits clinging to your bodies, but the laughter and joy in your faces made the discomfort worth it.

A half-eaten watermelon slice lays on a plate between you, the perfect refreshment after the exertion. You picked up the watermelon, the sticky juice already running down your fingers, and took a bite before offering it to Megumi. "Your turn," you said, squealing when the juice started to drip onto your lap.

Megumi leaned in, taking a big bite and then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "This is a mess," he muttered, but the gaze he held with the fruit clearly suggested he wanted more. He leaned down one more time to finish it off.

"You think?" you replied with a laugh. "It's worth it, though."

Megumi picked up another full slice, holding it up to your lips. "Here, let me."

You leaned forward, taking a bite and trying not to laugh as more juice dribbled down your chin. "You're terrible at this," you teased, your eyes meeting his as you leaned up to continue chewing.

Just as Megumi was about to feed you another bite, you both froze. The sound of footsteps approaching quickly gave you no time to act, and you turned to see Yuji standing at the edge of the pool, his mouth agape. You slowly wipe your face in shock.

"Uh, hey," Yuji said, his eyes wide with realization. "Am I interrupting something?"

You and Megumi exchanged a glance. The both of you knew there was no getting out of this, especially with how close the two of you were. Megumi cleared his throat, his usual stoic demeanor faltering. "It's not what it looks like," he began, but the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed him.

Yuji's eyes lit up with understanding, and he broke into a wide grin. "Oh, I see! You two are dating!" His excitement was palpable, and you could see the gears turning in his head as he connected the dots.

You couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation hitting you. "Well, I guess the secret's out," you said, looking at Megumi with amusement.

Megumi sighed, but there was a small smile on his lips. "Yeah, I guess it is." He puts down eaten slice of watermelon before intertwining your fingers.

Yuji's grin only widened. "That's awesome! I had no idea. You guys make a great couple."

"Thanks, Yuji," you said, still chuckling. "Just maybe keep it on the down-low for now, okay?"

"Of course," Yuji agreed, his excitement undimmed. "But seriously, this is great. I'm happy for you guys."

Yuji spent one last on gaze the both of you one last glance before walking away, leaving you and Megumi to your watermelon and your quiet moment by the pool. With a moment of silence, you felt a warm glow of contentment. You leaned your head on Megumi's shoulder, closing your eyes and savoring the closeness.

”He’s not gonna keep his mouth shut, is he?" you murmured, echoing your earlier words.

Megumi chuckled softly, his arm wrapping around you. "Probably not."

You smiled, the sun setting behind you and casting long shadows over the pool. In that moment, everything felt okay. Just right, in your words.

Is what you would’ve said before you heard the heavy steps of running and the shouts of Nobara quickly approaching, Yujis screaming echoing down the halls. In the corner of your eye, you glance at Megumi, conveying the message in the stare.

“It’s fine, let her see.”

[cobaltperun]

Heyyy! I'm hoping I still got the time to request something!

Lorraine Day x Fem!Reader

Lorraine lives after the "accident" (did not get that headshot...) just has a scar on her face, don't know which side. R also survives and her and Lorraine gets closer, then they became an item.

R always caresses or gives kisses to Lorraine's scar/scars on her face, so she knows she's still that beautiful young lady as before.

I just want a fluffy, romantic one shot with my baby😭😭

Feel free to ignore this! Have a nice day/night!

Sunset

Lorraine Day x female Reader (Request)

Masterlist

Word count: 1.5k

You never should have agreed to this, you should have been happy working at a local store, away from all of these crazy ideas of movies that would make your life easy. Instead of that now you were trying to stop the bleeding from your left arm from the crazy old man trying to chop it off with an axe. And you needed the damn keys so you could get the hell out of here.

So, though it hurt as hell, you managed to get back into the house through the window and felt relief when you saw Lorraine and Maxine, relatively fine inside as well.

"Y/N! We need to find the keys!" Maxine told you as soon as she realized it was you and not one of the crazy duo.

"No shit," you looked through the drawers, desperately trying to find what you needed. "Lorraine, could you check these drawers to the side?" you asked, only now realizing the girl was on the verge of a panic attack.

"No! This is all your fault! I never should have listened to you!" she screamed at Maxine and you couldn't help but agree somewhat, though you figured most of the blame still fell on the crazy old people. But then Lorraine went toward the door and you just went after her.

"Wait, Lorraine!" you managed to grab her just as she came to the stairs and pulled her back. The resounding bang of the shotgun being fired deafened you for a moment and you expected pain, but you just felt the girl whose arm you were holding slumping back against you. "Shit!" you cursed, pulling her inside despite the amount of blood you saw on her face as the bullets just narrowly missed you.

~X~

That was three weeks ago and the entire ordeal after that felt like a blur, you somewhat remembered getting back into the house and trying to hide with Lorraine, and then being called just once by Maxine that she would leave if you don't get your ass out in fifteen seconds, and then dropping you off at the hospital, probably because you threatened her, and then you never heard from her again.

You came out of the ordeal fine, just the nasty scar on your left biceps and overall less strength in your left arm. Lorraine though… She lost a finger on her right hand and the right side of her face was scarred. It could have been worse, she could have gotten her face shot off, but instead you managed to pull her back just in time to prevent her death.

The damage was already done though, she was mostly blind in her right eye, and the scars were fairly prominent no matter how she tried to cover them with her hair.

The two of you ended up living in your house, left to you by your grandparents, but Lorraine hardly left the room, choosing instead to stay in the room you gave her. She barely spoke to you unless you spoke up first, she barely did anything and you could tell she wasn't doing well.

Not that you could blame her, given how she came the closest to death out of the three of you. You knocked on her doors and waited until she eventually told you to come in, you were carrying a tray with her dinner on it. Just some soup and mashed potatoes, since she was still struggling to chew, though doctors were sure her jaw would recover completely soon enough.

"Hey," you set the food down on the table next to her bed and sat down at the foot of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Lorraine looked to the side, hiding the right side of her face from your eyes. "Like I should have died," she spoke honestly for the first time. "I thought I could be an actress, and look at me now, an ugly freak," you saw a tear sliding down her cheek as her voice shook.

You stood up, stepped closer to her and knelt down. Carefully you reached up, touching her right cheek. "Don't say that, please," you whispered, your heart breaking for the girl when she pulled away from you.

"You shouldn't have pulled me back," she sobbed and the two of you just sat there, in an old room, with wooden boards for floors and an almost antique furniture, and barely any sunlight coming through the window.

"Lorraine," you whispered, lowering your hand on her shoulder.

"You're still beautiful, you're still you," you felt like your words weren't reaching her, but she leaned in, perhaps just desperate for comfort and allowed you to hug and hold her.

“No, I should have never let you go alone, I should have gone with you,” you told her, and she just shook her head.

The two of you met that day, nothing, absolutely nothing that happened should have made you feel obligated to come with her.

“I know it’s difficult for you, I know you’re stuck in that place, replaying what happened all day long and then falling asleep to those same thoughts. I know that every time you look in the mirror you want to cry, but I’m here for you. And I won’t stop until you can once again see that you are still beautiful,” you promised her. It’s only been three weeks since you met, yet you figured surviving something like that brought you and Lorraine closer together.

“That’s not possible,” she sobbed, and you heard a small gasp when you cradled her scarred cheek.

“Maybe, but I won’t give up without even trying,” you weren’t sure where the boldness came from, but you leaned in and kissed her forehead, the right side of it.

“Y/N,” she spoke your name so softly you barely heard her, and she looked you in the eyes and saw nothing but affection and honesty. You didn’t find her scars ugly, or hideous, or anything that must have been going through her mind. You still saw the beautiful shy girl that stepped into the van that day, only now with the proof that she was a survivor on her face,

~X~

About half a year later you were resting on the porch and watching the sunset with Lorraine leaning on your left shoulder. You put an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

"Y/N," she giggled and it was like a melody to your ears to hear her happy once more. Following the first time she opened up to you things became easier for both of you and now you could enjoy each other's company just like this, even if Lorraine remained self-conscious about her scars.

"Hmm?" you kissed her forehead, where the top of her highest scar was, then moved down and kissed just beneath her eyebrow, down next to her eye, on her cheekbone, several times on her cheeks and along her jaw.

"You'll miss the sunset," she sighed, but she ran her fingers through your hair and lifted her head up a bit to give you better access to her face.

You caressed her left cheek, pulling her a bit closer. "Mhm, there's someone much more beautiful right next to me," you whispered, and only then, only after she parted her lips, you softly pressed your lips against her own, enjoying how she immediately pulled you in closer and kissed you back.

"You flatter me," she smiled, and you felt like her smile was even brighter than the Sun at its brightest. She went through so much and still had it in her to smile like this.

"It's not my fault my girlfriend is worth every praise in the world," you told her as the sunlight faded away.

"Yeah, and we missed the sunset again," she complained, huffing jokingly and leaning against you once more. The truth was you've been missing the sunsets for the past month, ever since Lorraine first kissed you in this exact circumstances, while you were watching the sunset and you gently caressed her right cheek. It made Lorraine feel better, and you genuinely thought she was still beautiful, that she was still the same girl you met that day in the van.

"I can't help it, you're so kissable," you defended yourself.

"Is that even a word?" she chuckled.

"It is now," you said and she pulled you in for another kiss, this time a bit more heated as her tongue teased your lips.

"Yeah, I think that word works," she muttered as she just barely pulled away.

She was so damn beautiful, and she loved you back, and while you wished she never got hurt, while you wished so many people didn't get killed by lunatics, you were happy the two of you were together.

A/N: Well, anon, here you go, hopefully a short but mostly sweet and fluffy one-shot. Thank you for the request!

[d1stract-and-daydream]

0 Days Since [Part 2] (Simon Riley x Reader)

Part 1

WC: 1.8k

Warning: Self-harm, angst, slight miscommunication

Reader overheard something that sets them spiralling.

"I wonder if it's truly worth it sometimes; the damn trouble of loving someone so fucking much that their pain cuts through you just as deep."

Soap reached for a firm squeeze on Ghost's shoulders; a reassurance, a silent understanding. 

"That, you have to decide for yourself, L.t."

He had decided that long ago. That he'll nudge you little by little out of your hole, cheer you up in his own gruff way for the little accomplishments—even as his body burned from the fire your resistance was determined to keep him out. 

A routine. Some tough love. It started as a concerned lieutenant wanting to help their sergeant from their own self-destruction. 

One morning he came to you and asked you to run with him—telling you that your stamina isn't  as good as everyone else's—and it just bloomed from there. 

It snuck up to him so unexpectedly; the affection, the want; that he was heaving at the end of one of your many running sessions with your hands on his back, as worried for him as he was for you before.

And then you told him that you liked him. And he told you that this could not happen.

But he sought you out anyway. "You're not getting off of our run just because I rejected you."

He found that he didn't like the distance you'd put in between you both. You said it's for your own good, because heartbreak was not something you could afford to be going through right then. Which was about the time that he found out you engaged in more self-destructive mechanisms than the drinking and smoking.

He couldn't stand it; you pushing him away further from your life when he wanted to know how you were doing, what you were up to. It was the frustration that made him confess.

"Fine! You fucking win, are you happy? I want to know how you are because I fucking care about you."

"I know you do-"

"No, you don't."

Somehow, you could read just what his eyes were saying.

"Lieutenant, I-"

"It's Simon. You call me Simon and I'm yours. And you tell me every single fucking thing that has you crying and hurting yourself, and you promise me you won't be doing that last part anymore."

It's worth it. Everything he'd done, he'd do all over again. Even if seeing you at your worst was part of it. Because one day, you'd finally see yourself how he sees you; hard headed, strong-willed, every bit as beautiful.

He strode to your quarters, body subconsciously bringing him to your door whenever his mind found its way to you, and saw that your door was unlocked. 

This morning, you look like you were finally starting to wash away the thick sludge of guilt and remorse that's chaining you to your bed, and he wanted to bring you out for a lap around the base. Just a walk. Just so your body knows that it's still pumping blood, your heart still beating.

He decided to open the door after a light knock. 

Your form, hunched away from him on the bed, a silhouette that stirred the uneasiness in the pits of his stomach. A ruined cupcake to the left, blue icing staining your covers.

"Love?"

You tensed. A sniffle. You've been crying.

Slow, gentle steps; him not wanting to startle you. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

And then, a glint of metal. Freshly bloodied, the sight cutting deep into his heart. 

No , he thought, you were doing so, so well.

He didn't mention the relapse, didn't look at you like it was your fault, his mind scrambling to search for a reason for this to happen. His hands reach out to cover yours; the one holding the razor. As if taking a gun gently from someone threatening to hurt someone else—or just themselves.

"Talk to me, tell me what's wrong."

"It's my one year anniversary." You look at your arms. "Well, almost."

One year. Grueling, he's sure. But something to be proud of, right? What went wrong?

He rubbed a hand on your back, sensed you pulling away just a fraction. A fraction too much. He did something wrong. It was him, somehow, that made you relapsed, and he knew this because you weren't staring at him from the moment he'd entered your room.

"Love, did I do something wrong?"

Your shoulder slumped. He took that as a yes.

He moved with urgency, kneeling in front of you to look up into your face—with no care that his trousers were now stained by your blood. That, he could wash later. This? Untreated, it would spread. Take you with it, after all the hard work you'd done to heal.

"You have to tell me so I can fix it, sweetheart. I can't do anything if you don't say anything."

"You can't fix me. I'm not- I'm not worth your effort, Ghost."

Sometimes I think to myself if it's all worth it.

You'd hear but a snippet of what he'd said, and ran with it. Looking for a reason to confirm to yourself that you weren't enough. He hated that you think that way.

"Did you overheard me earlier, love? While I was with Johnny?"

At least you cared enough to nod.

"Listen. You misheard me, soldier. What I was talking about was  not about your worth. It's- how do I explain this-"

He wasn't one to talk this much, especially when it comes to such things as feelings. But, if it'll help you, then God help him, he'll exhaust his words for the year just to let you know how fucking wrong your perceptions of yourself are.

"-it's about love. And pain. If one can exist without the other."

At this, you finally reciprocated his stare.

"You're in pain?"

He chuckled. Trust you to ask about his well-being while he's worried to death about yours.

"Not much more than usual. I was telling Johnny how it hurts me to see you spiral. Every relapse, every self-loathing comment. It hurts me as much as it hurts you, love."

He stood up. Headed to your dresser.

"Stay there, I'll clean you up."

He pulled a brown bandana from the top drawer and wet the fabric with the water from an unopened bottle set on top of your nightstand.

"If it hurts, why bother even staying?"

Gently, his hands worked on patting and wiping off the dried blood from your arms. The first aid kit already by his side, easily obtained.

"Because seeing you happy makes it all worth it. That you'd eventually heal, and be able to see the world like you did before—I would take helping you through millions of nights like these just so I can see you smile again one day. And mean it."

There was a time for tough love. There were times for coddling. Right now, he had no idea what you wanted, which way he should push to lift you up from your episode. So he settled for just being there; his default. Trusted you to tell him should you need anything. After all, you and him did try to be better at communicating.

"I have to start all over again."

It must've been disheartening, watching one's progress go down the drain like that. He didn't want this minor shortcoming to wrench you off your path to recovery, so he hoped his presence, his words—however little—would help.

"Recovery is not a linear thing, love. You get sidetracked. Thrown off. What matters is you go back to your path after that and continue on. Your effort before was not wasted because of this."

"It wasn't?"

His eyes soft as he looked up at you, trying to dab antiseptic on your cuts as gently as he can while he played mentor. 

"No. It's like muscle memory; you already have the skills to do it. All you have to do now is continue with the practice. I'll help you, see?"

A bandage, two, plastered on your freshly medicated cuts.

"If you forgot, I'll remind you again. You're worthy. You're needed. You're going to be okay. I love you. Over and over, until your brain accepts that as normal."

Three bandages. Four. There were more than he expected.

"I don't want you exhausted."

His thumb caressed the tear stains from your cheek.

"Do you get tired, helping me through my flashbacks, my nightmares?"

 You shook your head. He knew what your answer would be, asked it anyway to make his point. You loved him just as much. Had helped him through harder moments.

"Then why do you think I'd be tired of you? I'm a fucking soldier. Been through wars. Hell of battles. A partner in need is the least of my worries."

"I guess-"

"No guess. Be sure. What is it that made you doubt me?"

Your eyes widened, hands shooting up towards the sides of his face to hold him, pull him close. He leaned further into you.

"I don't doubt you. I doubt myself. I always thought you were with me out of pity."

He snorted. Pull your head down to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"I don't do pity. Not like this. I don't make it my mission to help someone through something unless I really fucking like them. "

It was honestly insulting how little you thought of yourself and of his impression of you. Scarcely had he kissed the mouth of a bottle as soon as you started dating, wanting to be a good example that it could be done. The cigarettes he'd bought months ago, untouched in the pocket of his coat. You both agreed to this; to discard the harmful coping mechanisms for better ones.

He never fucking cared how bad the substance was to his physique. But as soon as you mention wanting to be each other's accountability partner, he quit everything cold-turkey, like an idiot. 

There's no one else he would rather go through withdrawals with.

"I fucking like you. I love you. You don't get to assume how I feel about you, darling."

Your gaze slid to your side. Reaching for the smashed cupcake, pout evident on your face— but not from being upset—you carried the treat gently into the palms of your hands like you were holding a baby bird.

"This was supposed to be for you. As thanks."

"Has it been on the floor?"

You shook your head.

"Just a little rough handling. And my bed."

He leaned down to take a bite of it. Have you wipe the blue off his lips with your thumb, the smell of antiseptic piercing his nose.

"I love you too, Simon. Let's start again."

[powderblueblood]

I know this has been done a million and one times, but Eddie just vibing at the gas station. Something inevitably goes wrong. Please and thanks dear Powder

jo my love i present to you 1k+ words of eddie munson's no good very bad wednesday night no warnings! just silly. and acab includes hopper

So it's eight thirty on a Wednesday night, the very armpit of the week, and Eddie's standing there under the glare of the gas station fluorescents. Right in the heart of the snack aisle.

"What's become apparent to me, Sam, is-is-is-is that it's fear. It's the iron claw of the bonds of being a scaredy-cat little bitch that has stunted me fundamentally."

Loaded. So stoned he's stalagmite.

"See, I'm a capable guy. Many capes have I, but it's like, I've finally mastered the fuck-you-chip-on-my-shoulder adolescent thing that I'm reluctant to let it go. I'm skirting around putting on my big boy pants. I'm failing my courses. I'm dumbing myself down to stick around high school, seemingly, on purpose. Because I'm afraid!"

Eddie's pouring his heart out to the narcoleptic octogenarian cashier, the guy that likely built this place out of shiplap and bullet casings way back when it was a horseshit stop for Buffalo Bill's Wild West Freak Show or whoever.

"And I know what you're thinking." Sam isn't thinking anything. Sam's sleeping with his eyes wide open. "Why not really, grr, take root with that family tree, huh? Drop out like my old man and my uncle did? Well, I'll tell ya--"

Eddie wonders, in the middle of his own sentence, what it'd be like to hitch his wagon to an operation like that and coast solely on being a moorless weirdo.

He's really stoned, okay?

"--high school is easy to fail in. Real life? Isn't."

And look, before you get all, he's got good reason. It's been a particular drag of a week, a real sandpaper to the balls kind of kick off. Corroded Coffin's Tuesday night engagement at the Hideout was a special kind of bust--not least of all because the slapdash stage finally gave way under all that threatening creaking, and almost took Jeff's neck with it.

The neck of his bass and his human body. Neither of which Jeff's ass is in any position to fix.

So Eddie's got a band that's bruised and barely in the pocket, and a mouth that won't stop running.

“WSQK 94.5, The Squawk!” Eddie echoes the radio, complete with eagle screech, as the opening chords of Renegade by Ted Nugent & the Amboy Dukes pick up. "Hawk-ening right back to a time when Ted Nugent hadn't yet sold all his actual guitaristry to that pissant Wango Tango-ing... You know what, man, this is it!"

His ringed hands come down on the counter all a-clatter, chip crumbs flying out the bag he hasn't quite paid for yet.

"Lock me in a room full of records under a radio tower and throw away the key, I mean, I would be good to fucking go. None of that shock-jock shit, either. I'd play nothing but real music. The Hawkins Midnight Rambler, huh?" But Sam isn't paying sufficient enough attention. "Think I got a face for radio, Sammy?" Because he's asleep.

It takes a couple of molasses-slow moments for Eddie to register this, he himself still working through his own big sluggishness. I mean, damn, even waving a hand in front of the old man's face is an effort.

He's out, though, like a light. Makes Eddie wonder how this place stays open, much less unrobbed.

Well. Careful what you wish for there, buddy.

His hand is slinking toward a Three Musketeers, ready to nab it from the shelf right under old Sam's nose and write him a little IOU for whenever he next has the cash, but Eddie senses a shuffling behind him.

"Put your fuckin' hands in the air!"

Oh? "Dude, what?"

There's this guy behind him, this guy whose corporeal form Eddie can't be a bajillion percent sure isn't, like, a vivid hallucination, with pantyhose tugged over his face. Poking a pistol around under the cover of his camo jacket. The whole bit.

"Put your hands in the air or I put a hole through ya, asshole! You too, old man!"

Eddie tuts, hands still very much hovering near that candy bar.

"What's the fucking hold up, you and your grandpa tryin' to get shot or somethin?!" this very serious masked assailant demands.

"He's asleep, guy," Eddie says. "He can't hear you."

"What?!" our villain splutters, "Well... wake the fuck up! I ain't got all day and I want what's in that reg--"

He goes to point his still-concealed fuckin' sharp shooter or whatever it is he has at Sam's face, and Eddie, with this strange surge of protectiveness and complete buffoonery, nudges his arm away.

"Don't! Number one, dude's a narcoleptic, you could give him a heart attack if you just woke him up like that--number two, I saw him pull a sawed off from under that counter one time and you're in way closer range so the hole he blows through you is gonna be, like, way bigger and... like, he'll kill you and shit. Be cool."

The would-be thief groans. Oh, god, Eddie just knows he thought this hit job would be way easier. In and out, quick and dirty, wham-bam-thank you Sam.

Eddie nearly laughs. He does laugh, actually, because he's still super-mega fucking high and can't exactly control the noises that come out of his mouth, so next thing the dude is rounding on him with the thing in his pocket. Eddie actually puts his hands up this time. Feels a cold shock go through him somewhere that he really hopes isn't piss.

You ever get that? Get so stoned you constantly think you're peeing yourself? Anyway.

"Get the fuck behind the counter! If the old man can't open the register for me, you're gonna do it!"

"But I don't know how." Liar. Lying ass. Eddie knows how to work a goddamn register. It's not like he's tucking that money from the Hideout straight into his garter belt. Though he could. Maybe he should. Maybe he should buy a garter b--

"I'm gonna tell you how, dickhead!"

"What's in it for me?"

"Is that a fucking joke, wise guy?"

Only kinda. Closed mouths never get fed. "Worth a shot."

But Eddie doesn't really love this dude's tone, so he obediently scoots behind the counter, and almost gets distracted by all the copies of Penthouse Sam is keeping back here. He knew the bastard was holding out on him.

"Um..." Eddie gingerly starts, hands just sort of floating in the direction of the register in a way he hopes to Christ won't disturb Sam and wake him into a world of cardiac calamity.

So the guy tells him what buttons to push, clearly a man of the trade, a fellow familiar with wiling countless hours away behind a counter, which makes Eddie be all, why don't you steal from your own job, you shyster and keeps hitting the wrong buttons on purpose.

But dear old Sammy must have this thing rigged to make Eddie look like an asshole, because out pops the fucking drawer anyhow!

This guy, the pantyhose head, the robber, lets out an honest-to-god yippee! as he reaches over to snatch that cash.

And Eddie, working solely on instinct at this point, narrows his lovely red-rimmed eyes and shoves the drawer right in on the unlucky fuck's fingers.

He screams. And Eddie screams. And something falls out of his pocket. And Eddie leans over the counter, expecting to see and hear the shiny clatter of a pistol hit the lino.

But there is no such hardware.

It was a banana in his pocket. He was not happy to see you.

"What the fuck, man!" they chorus in near unison. They could have been brothers in another life, says some disembodied voice in the back of Eddie's head.

But then, something yellow flies towards Eddie's face and the shock of it knocks him right back into the lotto tickets and cigarettes. Thunk! His head knocks far too hard against the fire extinguisher and now there's two unconscious guys behind the counter.

Now, I don't know if you've ever had a banana thrown in your face by a masked assailant before, but I would call that something of an overreaction.

Anyway, he wakes up to police sirens and that Callaghan dweeb hauling him up by the front of his Hellfire shirt.

"Sshsjesus, Officer Handsy, buy a guy dinner first," Eddie slurs, head pounding. Callaghan's dorky Buddy Holly glasses have an aura around them that he unconsciously tries to swat away.

"He's resisting arrest!" Callaghan yells.

"Keep it down, I have a headache!" Eddie blinks once, twice, twenty-million times and is still having a tough time taking stock of his surroundings. Cash drawer's open and empty, and Sam is nowhere to be seen. "Didja catch the guy or what? He had a banana gun. Threw it right at me."

"Pipe down. Edward Munson, you're under arrest for armed robbery--"

"--wait, hold on--"

"--endangering the elderly--"

"--hold the fuck on!"

"--and swearing at a police officer!" Callaghan clicks the cuffs on and Eddie's about to burst, he's so mad and his head is pounding with such a fury. Shuffling him out into the forecourt and into the squad car like some kind of penguin idiot!

"That last thing isn't even real!" he spits, "None of this is real--I was trying t--fuck, did you not hear me about the banana gun?!"

"Reminds me to drug test him when we get back to the station," Callaghan puffs as he slides into the passenger seat.

"No one's drug testing anybody," Chief Hopper grumbles from behind the wheel. "We don't even have those facilities. Plus, kid doesn't even have any of that stolen cash on him."

"Thank you!" Eddie barks from his seat in the back. He can't really seem to sit upright, and he doesn't know whether to contribute that to the lump that's risen on the back of his head or the drugs that are definitely still in his system.

"W--well, why are we arresting him, then?" Callaghan blubs. Which is actually a salient point.

The Chief shrugs. "I'unno. Wednesday night. Somethin' to do."

[scenetocause]

💘 mando, pretty pls?

(omg so hard to decide on a heart, i wish i could send all of them!)

🫡 this is loosely set on that night when lando had everyone round to max's parents' lounge for a slumber party DJ set but i forgot it was martin not oli and whatever factual inaccuracy is actually ethical in rpf in this essay i will-

"Max." Lando says it casually, confidently, like he's not just tilted Max's world on it's axis.

He can't help spluttering. "You'd what, Bob?"

Lando's entirely unapologetic. "If I had to snog someone here, it'd be you, wouldn't it?"

That does sort of make sense, when Lando's slurping his can of White Claw and using the sensible, adult voice he did when he offered Max the Quadrant contract.

Except that. "We can't make out, mate."

Lando shrugs and Max is dimly aware there are other people here, that someone (Tom) is hollering at them to stop being fucking losers and get on with the game of truth or dare but that can wait, for now.

"Why not? Conor's got a girlfriend, I'm not snogging Tom and Oli's my brother. So, it just makes sense, doesn't it?"

Someone, Max suspects himself, whimpers quite pathetically.

"S'only a theoretic-whatever, innit. Just saying."

"Ok Bob." He sounds very weak. Feels very weak. Like he needs a cup of tea. Or perhaps he's become one, too dilute and half-cold and much too milky.

"What if it wasn't?" He's not sure that makes any sense, blurted out between sips of wine.

Lando catches up quickly, though. Always has. Looks at Max way too shrewdly for someone who's been drinking, like he's somehow got the focus to bore through Max's soul still.

"Go on, then."

He's never been very good at holding his breath. It makes him panic a bit, like he's drowning. 10 seconds is a long time to wait to exhale, staring at Lando to check he heard him right, through the blood thundering in Max's ears.

"Right, ok."

"Not here," Lando unfolds from the floor, offers Max a hand up. "Don't wanna do it in front of Oli, it's weird."

"Yeah, wouldn't want it to be weird," Max can't help the sarcasm. What the fuck's happening?

"Why would it be, mate?" Lando's got him backed up against the corridor wall and Max is forced to remember, for the millionth time, that he's the shorter one, now.

"Dunno." Max tilts his chin up, defiant now. If Lando's going to fucking snog him then like, just get on with it, yeah? They've nearly got here so many times, waking up tangled together in the Woking house and maybe if they had-

No. Max is done thinking about the past like superstitions, as though he could've saluted a few more magpies and made things different.

"Well don't be weird." Like it's that simple. It might be?

Lando leans in and Max has to scrabble a bit, to get a hold on him. Has to push his fingers into the muscle on Lando's shoulders, haul himself up a bit.

Annoyingly, Lando's good at kissing. Teases, with his tongue, before he nips at Max's lower lip to let him in. He's not as over-eager as Max thought he'd be, the times he's let himself think about them kissing. Has a sense of control, restraint that he knows the bloke must have a lot of but sometimes seems completely absent.

He's tender, too, holding Max around his waist like he's precious. Like this is romantic. Not like snogging one of your mates when you're both a bit tipsy. It's like an... old couple or something, still in love. Maybe that's what they are, still together after all this time and distance.

When Lando pulls back, squeezes Max around his middle, leans back in for another little kiss, Max has to stop himself saying anything stupid. No need to make it weird, is there?