#kept forgetting to post it but there you go

[bittertasteofhoney]

Good Day Sunshine | Ch. 1

Seems Like Years Since Its Been Here

Summary: You’re fully immersed in your sunny life in Jackson when a certain Miller brother’s harsh nature cracks your bright demeanor.

|| angst, jackson!joel, jackson!tommy, this will be a slooooooowwww burn, joel being a bit of a butthole ||

notes: My first time ever posting on tumblr so please be kind! Also if this isn’t your thing, feel free to keep exploring. :) I had to put my brain rot somewhere. This idea would not leave me alone. 

The sun burns your back in a way that translates to a hard day’s work. Your knees ache and you are elbow-deep in soil, but your cheeks also hurt from grinning with your co-workers. Being a part of the gardening crew in Jackson wasn’t an easy task but in your opinion, it was one of the most gratifying. 

Everyone had their talents. Some were good with their hands in the way that saw wood transformed into reinforced gates for the town or furniture to welcome a newbie home. Others were the brains behind the operation, making sure the cogs in the great machine that was Jackson were well-oiled and plentiful, to not only make sure everyone was safe but they had room to thrive and help the town in turn. 

Within the garden, you got to witness the beauty of the deep soil nurturing the seeds and growing the food that kept the town going. In tandem with the farmers, you made sure each citizen of Jackson went to bed with a stomach filled with wholesome food. 

It was life complete with such harmony that it was easy to forget what lurked beyond the gates. You rarely ever ventured out thanks to your steady position in the rows of produce. There were times where you wished you could be of more help but the days of prowling through the woods with a gun clutched in your hand were thankfully behind you. 

Life existed before Jackson but you were only interested in keeping your sights on your future here. 

You stand, bracing your hands on your hips as you stretch out your legs and back from hours spent knelt over weeding and clipping. 

“You goin’ to check the inventory?” Your head snaps to your coworker, Roberta, who was also standing for a stretch break. Her bright, red hair shining under the midday sun and her clothes equally speckled with dirt. You flash her one of your well-known smiles and give her a small shake of the head. 

“No. Actually, I'm going to check to see if that welcome box got picked up before I grab lunch for everyone.” She gives you a nod of her head and continues twisting from side to side to stretch out her joints. You lean down to grab the mason jar you keep near you during the day to stay hydrated and head to the greenhouse. 

You pass by rows of your other coworkers working through their to-do list under the Wyoming sun, waving and smiling as you pass. 

Your nickname, Sunshine, was well-earned throughout town. You didn’t realize it but after a year or two living here, you became known not by your overall appearance or bright personality but the thousand-watt smile you always flashed towards people, friends or strangers. Like everyone in Jackson knew, life past the gates was harsh beyond words. In your mind, a smile could go a long way if someone was struggling with memories from life before or if they were still recovering from those monstrous memories.

However, your smile never seemed to work on a certain Miller brother, recently returned from an seemingly impromptu trip outside Jackson. He left just as fast as he came and the most you were able to see of him was a glimpse of a tense conversation between him and his brother Tommy, Maria and the little girl Ellie in the mess hall before he and Ellie were gone again the next day.

When the pair returned, they kept close to one another, leaving little for any outside introductions. Eventually, Ellie befriended one of the local girls and in turn, settled into the younger Jackson population. Meanwhile, Joel kept close to Tommy and Maria. You occasionally bumped into him around town, while walking to work or at the Tipsy Bison. Like clockwork, you always flashed him a smile but in turn rarely got anything more than a grimace and if you were lucky, a grunt. Those always turned out to be good days. 

Despite how many smiles you flashed at him, knocks on his front door and reminders to Tommy, neither Joel nor Ellie ever came to pick up their welcome produce box. To make the transition into Jackson life simpler, your team always curated a box filled with the season’s fresh veggies and fruits, a selection of canned spreads, a baked good or two and coffee. 

Jackson’s citizens picked up their weekly rations like clockwork and ate a majority of their meals at the mess hall. These boxes and weekly rations made it easy to make breakfast at home, have nutritious snacks on hand and host the occasional gathering at one’s own home. Joel however, took it upon himself to not even bother with stocking up the home and instead make the mess hall his and Ellie’s only food destination.

You couldn’t blame them really. It was convenient and there was always friendly conversation to be had but all the same. Their welcome box was starting to wilt.

You step into the greenhouse and spot the cardboard box sitting next to the inventory station. Dropping your mason jar in the communal sink, you pick up the box and head up the road towards the direction of the Miller house. The walk was on the long side but you welcome the feeling of the breeze and a chance to move more than from one row of tomatoes to the next. You spot a patch of wildflowers and decide to pluck them to add a little life to the box.

You spot their crooked mailbox and walk up the path, dropping the box on their stoop before knocking on the door. After a few minutes of polite tapping, you realize no one is home. You could drop the box on the stoop and head to the mess hall but you want to make sure they knew how the town’s ration system worked and you couldn’t trust Tommy to explain it truthfully. That man will flash a wink and smile any day of the week if it means he can snag a little extra of anything to surprise Maria with. It usually worked too. It was hard saying no to the town’s resident hero and handyman. 

You shake your head to yourself and lift the box again to head into the main part of town to hit up the mess hall for sandwiches for your crew. A few minutes of smiles and neighborly waves later, you enter the bustling building filled to the brim thanks to the lunchtime hour. 

You step inside almost tripping over a gaggle of your neighbor Lisa’s kids playing near the entrance. You smile off the almost misstep and continue inside, spotting the serving station. You weave around a few tables almost reaching the counter when you hear a familiar booming laugh. You smirk, knowing that goofing cadence anywhere. Tommy Miller. 

Your eyes scan the room until you see the mop of curly, black waves and next to him, a shorter set of grayer waves. Bingo. Smiling to yourself, you redirect your path up to their table, slowing down when you catch a piece of their conversation. Joel’s back was to you and Tommy was too busy frowning at his brother to notice your slow approach. Both were clothed in dusty plaids and denim, matching the overall town population.

“Oh, c’mon Joel. Stop being so hard. All you gotta do is pick up the damn box and get on with your day. Stop making work for everyone else.” You see the back of Joel’s head snap up, previously fixated on the plate in front of him.

“I ain’t making work. It’s plenty easy grabbin’ food here throughout the day and plus it saves me from Little Miss Sunshine.” You freeze about a table’s length away from them. 

Jesse, one of the town's younger patrolmen notices you pause next to him and he half turns to you, cracking a crooked smile. You don’t notice him until you feel a slight tug on your work shorts. You frown down at him, still listening.

Tommy groans in annoyance. “Really? Of course you’d have a problem with the sweetest girl in town.”

“I don’t have a problem. I just don’t feel like wastin’ my time on idle small talk is all. There’s no point.”

“She’s just bein’ nice, Joel. Can’t really blame her.” You can almost feel Joel’s eyes narrowing at his brother.

“I ain’t got time to spend losing brain cells to listen to some airhead talk. Don’t worry. I’ll send Ellie to pick it up.” You see Tommy scrunch his eyebrows at Joel, half incredulous and half pissed.

“Really? And she’ll pick up your weekly rations too? Scared Sunshine’ll flash you a smile and you’ll fall-” 

You don’t wait to hear the rest. You take a deep breath and finally turn towards Jesse and hold out the box to him. “Mind handing that over to Joel for me?” You give him a weak, watery smile. “I gotta grab food for the crew and he seems a bit tied up.” 

Jesse nods at you confused and replies, “‘Course.”

You scurry off to the counter to quickly grab a set of sandwiches before beelining for the exit, counting to twenty in your head to keep the tears at bay. Airhead. You shake your head to propel the thought momentarily away while you walk outside. 

Meanwhile, Jesse walks up to the table and deposits the produce box in front of Joel. The older Miller peers down at the arrangement of goods in confusion and looks up at Tommy who passes the look to Jesse. The younger boy shrugs and motions to your hurrying form. “She asked me to drop it. Said y’all looked busy.”

Tommy’s eyes catch a glimpse of you and he’s quick to notice your rushed steps.“Shit. She hear anythin’?” The only response the two brothers get to Tommy���s question is the narrowed look Jesse gives Joel. 

Joel hangs his head muttering under his breath before swinging his leg over the bench, abandoning the harsh look his brother was pointing towards him and the box of good intentions. He takes quick strides to the exit, hoping to catch you before you get too far down the street but when he steps back into the sunlight, you’re long gone down a side street he has yet to discover.  

[husbandjoel]

don’t be tardy | tlou jesse

summary: jesse hates tardiness and you run late. you rub off on him and give him something to be late for.

pairing: jesse x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k

trigger warnings: lil bit of bad language, jesse is kinda mean but not really, kissing, brief smut but not in great detail. reader doesn’t really take things seriously lmao

a/n: if me posting jesse fics keeps him alive i won’t ever stop 😤 love my diva. this is super choppy and short so i don’t expect enjoyment from it!

gif credit: @pedgito

      7:00am.

        You opened your eyes briefly to look at the red lights flickering on your alarm clock. The sun seeped in from between the thin, makeshift curtains, and you smiled into the duvet that covered you from neck to toe. For once, you felt serene, tranquility found in the Commune of Jackson. Survival a distant memory.

        You could do this forever.

        "Fuck!" Your eyes shot open, body upright as you read over the time once more.

        You were late. So fucking late.

You jumped into your clothes, swearing as you crashed into your cabinet when your foot got stuck in the leg of your pants. No time to fix your appearance, you slipped out of the front door, the profanities continuing to string along with you on your way to Main Street.

Feet pounded against the ground, wet mud flicked up behind you, chest heavy from panic when you managed to reach Main Street from your home in record timing. The building that held the Patrol meetings just adjacent to where you had skidded round the bend. Brass knob within your reach, you huffed as you grabbed and twisted it.

Door creaked to alert the compact group, you bared teeth as you cringed, boots tip-toed as best as you could above the old floorboards. As presumed, the meeting for morning Patrol had already started without you.

Familiar faces, Ellie and Dina, sat in amongst the older patrolmen, both offering a wave when you ducked your head in an attempt to conceal your lateness to Jesse who stood, arms crossed his chest, his eyes tracking you like prey for the taking.

"You're late." You winced at his deep tone.

Mottled hands from forgetting your gloves in a hurry, dragged the closest chair toward you. A concoction of embarrassment and shame crossed your face as eyes turned to you when Jesse spoke. Backside hitting the plastic chair, you felt the need to press your hands together; as if you were about to pray for his forgiveness.

OK. It wasn't near enough as good as an impression you could've made on your first patrol. It took months of arguments, pushing yourself to the limit and extra credit earned through mundane tasks that landed you the spot in the Jackson Patrol. And, now, you were late for your first meeting.

You had hoped it was Tommy or Joel Miller in charge. They'd have let it slide. You liked those brothers.

Jesse was your friend, if you could call someone you slept with on the regular, that. You met him by association of being relatively close to Ellie and Dina. He was a serious guy, little humour in duty-related situations, but you thought he was nice enough to engage in conversation with. And in turn, he showed you how nice he could be with your legs wrapped around his neck.

It was an added bonus that he was fun to look at.

You had wished he kept that momentum going when he stared you down, expectant of an explanation as to why you had tiptoed into the Patrol meeting.

"I'm sorry." You mustered.

Jesse puffed out, “Yeah—Sorry doesn’t cut it when you’re on duty. Thankfully, for you, your partnered with me. Otherwise, you would’ve cost us another Patrol member. A dip in our numbers, could mean we miss vital intel coming head-on to Jackson.”

“Alrigh’, she was late by minutes.” Joel Miller piped up from behind, “Give her a break.”

You didn’t dare move to mouth a ‘thank you’ to Joel. Mentally noted, you would buy him a drink at the Tipsy Bison later if Jesse hadn’t thrown you in jail for your tardiness.

Chairs creaked as people shifted awkwardly. Joel Miller was softened in his older years, but nobody dare speak out against him, especially Jesse — as much as undermining him set his internal anger ablaze.

“We’ll talk after.” He said. Which meant, we’ll talk when Joel Miller can’t defend you.

As he turned, you leant into Ellie, “Yeesh. Men are so touchy in Jackson.”

The meeting didn’t last long, or as long as you had hoped to avoid Jesse’s wrath in private. Every individual had an area to map out and scan to ensure there were no immediate threats to your Commune. There had been an increased sighting of the Infected in every direction, and this shook the infrastructure of Jackson. So, everybody was on high alert, observant of the grounds outside the confines of the walls.

You stood with the rest of the group, Ellie patted your shoulder for added sympathy for what you were about to face. She left you alone, head bumped with Dina as they spoke amongst themselves as the group bottle-necked at the entrance to the building.

An escape may have sufficed until you saw him later, but, that would’ve earned you an immediate dismissal from the Patrol Team and, you had a point to prove that you were worth the slot taken from others to maintain the safety of Jackson, Wyoming, whatever it took.

As the team filtered out, Jesse approached you with a mean-mug. No special chit-chat.

"Consider this a warning." Jesse was mad. Not the type of mad that would linger, but he had been on your side to convince Maria Miller that you were a good fit for the patrolmen. He didn't like his ass being shown.

You gawked, "A warning? Jesse, I thought we were friends—" You stopped following him when he turned sharply.

"—You want dismissed on your first day? If we weren't friends, that's where you would be. Shovelling horse shit and grovelling." He looked you up and down, "But, we are friends. So, you get a warning. Two more and I can't help you. Take your wins."

"OK." You kind of wished Joel stuck around to back you up. You twiddled your thumbs, reprimanded like a child. “Does this warning extend to tonight?”

You meant about having sex.

Jesse scanned his surroundings to ensure no eavesdropper had heard your invitation. He lowered his voice to a mumble, “No. Get to the stables.”

—

"You get the Appaloosa." Jesse informed when you reached the stables with the rest of the group.

You stopped in your tracks with your jaw slacked. There is one thing aside from the Cordyceps Outbreak that you loathed entirely and it was the Appaloosa stallion with a biting problem. Hoof battered against the stable door, the stallion whinnied in frustration from being contained — you presumed it craved human flesh.

He bucked when sat upon, you once going over the reigns and heavily winded when Jesse was showing you the ropes on how to properly guide a horse. After you had landed in the wet mud, the horse bit your arm for good measure.

That moment forward you both found enemies in each other.

Jesse was being cruel.

You followed Jesse to his selected horse, a gentle brown mare that liked you for your apples.

Throat cleared, Jesse turned to look at you innocently as you returned it with a plead, "Please don't make me ride that fucking Zombie—" You pointed to the stallion, "He has anger issues and, he's impossible to control."

Jesse threw the saddle over the mare and shrugged before swiftly straddling the horse, large hand smacked against the mare's neck as it stood grazing upon the hay in her stable.

"It's exposure therapy for you." He retaliated as he kicked the stirrups, his horse following the guidance with ease. He passed you slowly, a smile crept upon his face, "Teaches you how to deal with touchy men in Jackson."

He left you fighting the horse to get the saddle on its back, which in turn made you late to the gate with a grimace.

You had, surprisingly, survived the Patrol on Zombie, the Appaloosa. It seemed that you had breached through the stallion’s walls and managed to bribe him with soft-mints you stole from Jesse’s pocket when he scoped the land for any sign of an influx of Infected. In return for a mint after a handful of minutes apart, Zombie didn’t buck you off, or attempt to bite you despite your hand close to his mouth for the taking.

You returned to the stables, Jesse had taken the reigns of your horse, his private punishment over with as he guided it back into its area to rest. He came back, dusting his hands of the hay, a smile widened on his face.

“He didn’t kick you off.”

You threw him a petulant look, “Yeah. I know that broke your heart, you mean bastard.” Saddle in hand, you threw it onto the table, “And to think I was going to wrap my mouth—”

“—Enough.” Jesse warned.

“Sorry. Work hours.” You sighed at your brain’s disobedience to filter your mouth. From your peripheral, you saw Jesse shake his head in an attempt to hide his humour. You changed the subject, “Are you going to Maria Miller to debrief about the thirty dead?”

Jesse nodded.

“Can I come?” And he laughed. A genuine laugh in your face. If you weren’t on the receiving end, you may have begun to laugh with him because it was contagious for such a brooding man.

“No. You can’t” His laughter still sweet on his tongue, palm to his chest, “That’s called favouritism and we don’t need an uprising just because you’re pretty. Plus, I need to get there on time. Something you don’t know the meaning of.”

You blinked, “I’ve been on time.”

He spoke your name, “You have never been good at time-keeping. I’m pretty sure, Joel is still waiting for you for that one woodwork training session you organised last week—” Fuck! You knew you forgot about something, “It’s OK. I’ll keep us right for future events.”

Arms folded, you perked at his slip-up.

“Oh? There’s an us, now?” Stomach flipped, “I thought there was no blurring the lines, Captain Jesse.”

He said nothing more. Simply pecked your lips and exited the stables to his debrief with Maria Miller, and Tommy; they came as a package deal.

You went to go make amends with Joel before heading to Jesse’s for the night.

—

Jesse's workout chair had seen many workouts. It was sturdy, rattled a little when he was focussed on building muscle on his shoulders but all-in-all it was a good chair.

The bolt rattled at the base of the chair from the vigorous movement it was enduring. You were seated against the pleather, back hitting it with force as Jesse held your legs up by your ankles. Your knuckles were white from gripping onto the slim chair, mouth agape as Jesse continued his endeavour.

You hadn't meant to start this. It was a mere coincidence that you and Jesse were feeling some type of way the morning after you stayed for the first time, and you only encouraged it a smidge before caution was thrown to the wind and now, you were naked in Jesse's home, getting plowed on his workout chair.

"Oh my god." You whined which only spurred Jesse more.

He took both your ankles in one large palm, the other dove between your legs and your head hit the headrest, lids heavy as sweat followed the curve of your back. Jesse smirked at the vision he had created, the confidence built like a skyscraper in him for causing you that type of reaction.

        "Yeah?" He asked rhetorically and you nodded obediently. He went to open his mouth to let pure filth leave his tongue, only to jump from fright from the four knocks to his front door. His hips stuttered, "Shit. Hello?"

        "Jesse?" Ellie's voice called through the door and the pair of you looked to each other in panic. "I can't believe I'm about to say this—But—You're fucking late for patrol."

        Pinched brows, Jesse slowed his thrusts and craned his neck to look at the clock on his bedside table.

        Holy shit. Jesse was late.

        "Fuck—Yeah. Give me a minute."

        He unsheathed himself from you, a finger pressed to his lips when Ellie tried the door handle — both of you grateful that it was locked. Jesse threw his shirt on haphazardly, frustration shown in his hand gestures as he stumbled around the room, his patrol clothes unprepared which, again, was out of character.

        You stood from the chair, feet tiptoed to the door to grab his boots to unlace for him. Eyes squeezed shut, you could hear Ellie muttering to herself as she stomped the snow on her boots against the concrete of the steps. Jesse met you halfway, fully clothed compared to your bareness, a 'thank you' mouthed your way when he took the boots from your hands.

        "Will you hurry the fuck up?" Ellie called.

        Jesse swore under his breath, "Ellie, have a little patience."

        You and Ellie managed to scoff at the same time. A playful pinch to your budded nipple as retaliation, you swatted at his hand before he pulled you in for a chaste kiss.

        "See you later." He mumbled into your mouth, his willpower almost folded from feeling the hotness of your bare skin.

        "Mhm." You whispered. Quiet enough that Ellie wouldn't hear, "You deserve the Appaloosa today."

[lalaluna20]

Supposed to go

Azzi x reader warnings: heaveyyy angst, 2024 final four 😬, heavy use of italics (sorry), uh yea…

this wasn't how it was supposed to go

At least not for azzi

For the first time, you were finally able to go to one of azzi’s games in her collegian career.

but

she didn't want it this way, this was never how it was supposed to go.

because now, she's sitting on the bench, unable to play on her biggest stage for the second time. feeling disappointment as heavy as the world, she looks over at you desperately seeking for your comfort.

but

this wasn't how it was supposed to go. because now you're sitting in the other section, covered in black and gold. sitting with her family.

you were supposed to be here for azzi, not for her.

azzi couldn't help but to get lost in thought. all the possibilities, all the things she could've done, should've done, all the regrets.

she regrets it all.

when you told her you were going to iowa for their creative writing program.

when she contacted her friend caitlin clark. they grew rather close while on fiba's U16 usa team. their friendship only grew while on U19. so azzi reached out to her, asking her to help you around and just be a familiar face. azzi knew you would be in good hands. caitlin's kind, funny, charming, she would bring you in with nothing but welcoming arms.

god she regrets it.

when you moved down to iowa city, you and azzi kept your routine. call once in the morning, text during lunch breaks, and call once after all your classes. but as time went on calls changed to once a day, to no texting over lunch breaks, to calls once a week.

until around a two weeks before her first season; azzi texted you out of no where.

hey, im sorry i haven't been able to talk much lately. things are just getting really busy with basketball. i dont think i'll be able to talk much until the season is over.

but of course you had to be a sweetheart. you always were.

it's okay az i understand just call/text me whenever you're free i miss you :( love you <3

if she could take it all back she would. but she can't.

she snaps out of her thoughts, feeling a tear filling her waterline. she forgets how much her heartbreaks thinking about how things went down.

she remembers how caitlin would post photos of the two of you, hanging out, getting coffee, books, you name it. but azzi never thought anything of it. she was too focused on her career.

but when she tore her acl it all changed. for the first time you were no longer there to comfort her. and although she had paige and her teammates, they never compared to you. not even close. but you’re 1046 miles away from her a 17 hour drive (not including traffic) now you were way too far and busy to even come back and comfort her. that didn’t mean you didn’t try, of course you did. you guys started calling twice a day again, started texting during lunch breaks again. it all helped the aching hole in azzi’s heart.

that was until she was scrolling through insta. watching insta stories while waiting for her physical therapy session. that’s when caitlin’s story pops up. it was a photo of you acrossed the table. the biggest, brightest smile on your face. one she hasn’t seen since you guys were kids. it made her heart ache, wishing she was the source of your happiness. but the nail on the coffin? was the caption. “one year with my beautiful girl 🖤 forever grateful to call her mine.”

for the first time the world stopped azzi felt a pain she has never felt before. far more painful than any acl tear.

all azzi could do was ask why? why didn’t you tell her? why did you start dating caitlin? why not her?

once again, snapping her out of her thoughts. Ice taps her on the shoulder. “azzi? you doing okay?”

god she needs to turn her mind off. “yea im fine ice.” she states far to quick to be considered normal. but ice doesn’t push it. especially not with how close the game is going.

that’s when gasps fill the stadium. yours sticking out the most to azzi. watching you stand in horror as you watch kate go down. kate martin being one of your first friends at iowa, after caitlin introduced the two of you. azzi would hear all about the adventures you and kate would go on over the late summer early fall months. whether that would be going to the farmers market in downtown, the apple orchard in the outskirts of iowa city, or the author visits the two of you would go to at this local bookstore. she watched as anne held you in her arms, telling you kate was going to be okay. she watched as you lit up seeing kate return to the floor, sighing a breath of relief.

but just as quickly, that breath was sucked back in. “THE OFFENSIVE FOUL ON EDWARDS” the commotion in the in the stadium louder than ever. the Iowa pep band rubbing salt into an already painful wound. the mix of defeat and frustration geno held making an uncomfortable huddle. emtions are high as caitlin heads to the line, shooting for two.

but azzi could care less, her eyes lock on you. watching your hands clasp together, your lips reading “we need this baby, just two more, please”. watching you practically shake with anticipation.

she watches as you cheer. 1.1 left on the shot clock as sydney takes the ball. you look exactly like you did when you got all A’s on your final report card back in high school. azzi felt her heart swell, but just as fast as she feels the warmth.

“clark bounces it off of bueckers out of bounds. with just one tenth of a second remaining.”

azzi feels her heart drop yet again. the guilt of being unable to support her team swallowing her whole. as they reset the time to 0.8. she watches her team. seeing the pain in their eyes, seeing the frustration and defeat in her coaches. she can’t bare to see it. she look at you, seeing the shaky hope in your eyes. knowing your little saying “you haven’t won till the buzzer hits zero” you’d say as you guys cuddle up on the couch watching wnba games.

god everything hurts.

the buzzer goes off. the rigging bringing you joy, but brings pain to azzi’s ears. she watches as you jump in the arms of caitlin’s family overcome by joy.

“AND THAT WILL DO IT!!”

“IOWA SURVIVES CONNECTICUT!!”

as they high five, azzi tries to hide her pain. giving a weak smile to her team usa friend.

this was never how it was supposed to go

as azzi waits in the locker room, waiting for her teammates to get done with interviews, waiting for the locker room discussion. she watched the livestream taking place. watching as caitlin goes to look for you. watching as she hugs her father, mother, brothers. then she watches as caitlin picks you up, twirling you around and kissing you on the lips. “baby we did it.” caitlin says with the biggest grin. “i’m so proud of you” you state before kissing her again, cheers erupting from her teammates, coaches and supporters.

azzi shuts her phone off, feeling sick to her stomach. it shouldve been her. you should be in her arms, she shouldve been playing, she should be the one going to the championship. but it’s not, and all she could do now was wish it was her. she tries to hold back her tears, but before she even knows it, they’re flooding out like an uncontrollable river.

this was never how it was supposed to go.

after a month i finally wrote it T~T thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! taglist: @ashortyluvsports, @itsssports, @salemsuccss, @d1paigebueckersglazer, @laurenmcucm, @sweetbcgs, @bueckersverse, @mariahthealchemist, @pbno5

[911coded]

I Can Go Anywhere I Want, Just Not Home. Where Is Home?

I don’t usually write after episode one shots, but I was inspired by this post and helped by @bidisasterevankinard when I couldn’t remember if Buck and Bosko had even spoken to each other. Also, I’ve never written drunk dialogue before and ended up modeling it after myself. I will slur one sentence, forget words, make up new ones, then speak the next sentence in full English. 🤷🏻‍♀️

The next night after shift, he pulls over into an empty parking lot before the turn to his house and sits in it, this feeling. Forget having trouble sleeping there, he doesn’t even want to be there. Will Eddie and Chris be waiting? In the moment, seeing Chris again for the first time in a year, he was able to push aside this feeling. But it’s curdling in his stomach like that time he accidentally drank spoiled milk and he’s afraid he will vomit up all the pain and anger he’s been trying to carry. The anger is new, must be at the next stage, or might just be Eddie’s fault. That’s it, he’s finding someplace to sit and have a drink, he can uber “home” when he can go straight to bed.

The badge and ladder bar only a few minutes from his house wasn’t full, but enough people were milling around inside to get lost in the crowd. Buck thought he recognised the handful of firefighters surrounding the pool tables, but only from scenes, not anyone he knew personally. A couple of minutes after sitting at the bar and scanning the crowd, the bartender made her way over to him. He handed over a card to start a tab, ordered a beer to sip, and a hand full a shots to get started. After he tossed the first one back, he looked the bartender in the eyes. “This is a terrible idea, but I’m about to make this all about me. I’ve had a shit few weeks, my captain died, and I’ve spent so much time trying to keep my team together, this is the first time I’ve had a chance to be still without a list to work from. This is either going to make me feel better, or a whole lot worse. If I start crying to the point of embarrassing, please call my ICE contact, but no one else, even if he doesn’t answer. He’ll answer, though, he always does,” he explained. The bartender stared back at him, silent and stoic, but nodded at him seriously. He nodded back and picked up the next shot.

After the fourth shot, “ICE. Fuck ICE. We should come up with a new name for your emergency contact, workshop it, spread the word.” The bartender tilted her head in question with a quirked eyebrow. “Hmmm, bet I can make it go viral. I have-I have a lot of instagram followers. Bobby would like that. We didn’t talk about it, and I don’t think I ever heard him curse but Bobby would say it too, cause fuck ICE.” Buck waved a hand emphatically and the bartender grabbed a glass before he could send it crashing to the floor.

The bartender was good. She kept the shots coming but made sure he paced himself and occasionally placed a glass of water in front of him with a blank stare until he drank it. “He was a good guy, but he was wrong, they don’t need me. Not now. But maybe I need them? Maybe that’s what he meant? It hurts to need people, though. Hurts when they shut you out, when they leave,” Buck continued with a sniff. Someone settled in the stool next to him and flagged down the bartender who had taken a moment to serve some young women at the end of the bar.

“Buckley? Hey man, you’re crying.” Buck turned to the voice and squinted at the woman sitting next to him. He knows her. Maybe? Oh.

“Bosko? Oh.” Buck touches his face and he can feel the wetness there even if he hadn’t noticed that the crying had begun. “Must not be too embarrassing yet since the bartender hasn’t called my ICE. Fuck ICE, we need to work on that.”

Bosko snorts in amused bemusement. “Yeah, fuck ICE. What are you doing here alone, Buckley? Where’s the rest of your crew?” she asked. She settles into the barstool and turns to face him.

“Don’t know, they aren’t really talking to me right now. I’m sad wrong? Or too concerned about if they are sad? Not sure yet. Eddie is at my place and he is talking too much. Ashhole. Sad wrong for him, too. Make everything about me, selfish. Captain Dad dies but not about me. Said-said I dn’t do enough, could do better. Got in my face, no sorries, just more mean. You were there, you saw. Once is an incident, twice is a-a coinkydink, three times is a pattern; I shouldn’t have to be afraid that my friend is going to hit my face in my own-my own cooking room. Did that once, 0/10 stars, would not recommend. At least he said sorry, made effort to make up. Am I still crying?” Buck asked, trying to make sense but pretty sure he was failing, nothing new there. Bosko had a fierce frown, not scrunchy like Tommy’s.

“Did dickhead Diaz hit you? Is that why you’re in here mourning your captain alone instead of with your crew? Do they know?” she asked, looking around to be sure she didn’t see any firefighters from the 118.

“No, that was Chim, brother. Long time ago, said sorry. Meant it. We’re good. Chim angry at Bobby for dying but not mad at me. Eddie mad at me. Dickhead Diaz, good one,” Buck replied with a giggle.

“I worked with that asshole for months, he didn’t know anything about me but somehow thought we were good friends. He told me all about you, his family, and his kid, but not once did he ask me about mine. Friendship is a one way street for that guy, and if you don’t stay in that perfectly shaped box he put you in, he gets frustrated and angry. He’s a dickhead, I told him we were not friends and walked away, haven’t heard from him since,” she shared.

“No, wouldn’t, didn’t need you anymore. Had me back. Sad. No, stupid. We should start a club. Edmundo Diaz sucky friend club. We need more members. Oh Josh! And Tommy! Was jealous of Eddie taking attention of hot pilot….with a cleft. Edmundo stopped talking to Tommy too! Said it was about me, but thas dumb. Dumb. Am I embarrassin’ yet? Time to call Tommy come get me?” Buck asked with a flutter of his lashes.

“Buckley. Dickhead Diaz doesn’t know how to have conversations that aren’t about him. And he has really good aim, so every fight is an opportunity to cause the most damage. Don’t let him do that to you, man, nobody deserves that, okay?” Bosko insisted.

“Ok. Don’t deserve damage. I’ll be okay. Bobby loved me. Two outta three works, I guess.”

Bosko sighs with a sad shake of her head and flags down the bartender. “Did he give you his phone? I’m pretty sure it’s time to call his ride,” Bosko said. When she turns back to check on him, Buck has folded his arms on the vaguely sticky bartop and is using them for a pillow, blinking slowly at her like a cat. The bartender shakes her head and when Buck actually hears her speak, it’s almost enough to get him to sit up again.

“It’s in his shirt pocket. I’ll close out his tab.” With that, Buck and Bosko are alone again.

“I think you’ve hit the embarrassing stage now, bud, how about I call your ICE?” Bosko asks, as gently as he had ever heard her speak.

“Fuck ICE,” Buck mumbled, blinks getting further and further apart, but he reached into his pocket and handed her his phone so she wouldn’t have to fish for it. His attention wandered and he vaguely heard Bosko’s side of the conversation enough to know that Tommy answered. “Yay!” he exclaimed softly, and raised an arm to fist pump that weakly thumped back to the bar top.

The bartender came back with a receipt, his card, and another glass of water. “Sign. Then drink. Thank you,” she demanded, then gave one more nod now that she had imparted her instructions and wandered away to do bartender things.

After he gulped down half the glass of water and signed a somewhat legible signature, he turned to look at Bosko. “I think she might be the strangest yet most interesting bartender I’ve ever met and I’ve been a bartender. A lot.” Bosko rolled her eyes but nodded anyway to concede his point. It may have been moments or hours when Buck felt a familiar warm hand rest on his lower back and the tension Buck had been carrying around for weeks seemed to seep out of his pores. Tommy. That’s what he had needed this whole time. Dumb. Should have known.

“Evan. Are you okay?” Tommy asked, forehead scrunched up in concern.

Buck twisted up into a mostly sitting position and beamed at Tommy which seemed to shock him into silence, if the wide eyes blinking at him were any indication. Bosko snorted and rolled her eyes at him again.

“He’s fine Kinard. He had a deal with the bartender to call you if the crying became embarrassing,” Bosko answered for Buck who was still beaming up at Tommy dreamingly.

Buck pointed at Bosko. “Yes! I’m sad and making it about me, but that’s ok. It’s my turn and it helped. I think. And Bosko’s here! We didn’t talk when she was my replacement but I think I like her and the bartender is really interesting,” he informed the still bemused Tommy.

“And hot,” Bosko pointed out with a smirk at Buck who had given up on sitting straight and was slumped against Tommy.

Buck’s forehead creased with an offended pout. “Well, yeah, but interesting. More important. Don’t obje-objec….that word. More than pretty. INTERESTING. But I’m done now. Tommy, I’m tired, take me home? Not with Eddie. Don’t-don’t want to see him. Dickhead,” he pleaded as he increased the pout by a factor of ten and fluttered his eyelashes in Tommy’s direction.

Bosko snorts out another laugh and holds out a hand to shake. “Buckley, take care of yourself. I’m sorry about your Captain Dad, he was a good man. Call me some time to hang out, you are a fun drunk. Kinard,” she said and with a friendly nod, went back to her friends at the pool tables.

Buck turns back to Tommy and looks up at him with the look that he knows turns him to mush. “Thank you for coming to get me, Tommy. You always come when I call, you’re the best. Take me home and tuck me in? I always sleep better with you and I’m so tired,” he pleaded.

Tommy sighs with a small smile and hauls Buck out of the barstool and on to his feet. “Come on, sweetheart. I’ll take you home and you can tell me more about Dickhead Diaz in the morning. I’m glad you called me,” he assures Buck and guides him out the door to his truck to go home.

[tryingahandinholdingapen]

I keep forgetting to type this up so this may not be as well written as I'd like but I feel like I gotta get it down before I forget about it

anyway

TCF AU in which the Henituse are in fact just as mad about inheritance as most other nobles, they just happen to approach it completely differently and therefore nobody (...outside of Henituse of territory) is aware of this

Side effects of this include the Henituse family generally getting along better + being tighter knit than in canon, and KRS!Cale not having to worry as much about doing anything out of character for og!Cale because others can make the actions fit <-sorry this doesn't really make sense before I've explained the rest of the AU I may be doing this out of order

UH okay so

I'm using the Stans and the Crossmans as my reference for what other nobles may be like in regards to inheritance btw, since I don't recall much information about how any others in the Roan Kingdom deal with it (yes I know the Crossmans are royalty not mere nobility, I'm doing the best I can with the info I got)

Anyway. My point is that most nobles in Roan might view inheritance something along the lines of

- There is one (1) position that matters and that is Leader Of The Territory, whether that be duke/count/king/whatever, that's the one position that matters

- Every potential heir is gunning for this one position, and generally (may be exceptions in some households or in extenuating circumstances) does not support each other at all. Every man for himself

- Whoever currently holds that Leader position probably doesn't care too much about what their potential heirs do to try and secure that position for their own future..

- ...which means that sabotage, violence, messing with each others' alliances or reputations as well as forming their own, and using even less scrupulous means (cough assassins cough) to try and secure their own position or fuck each other over are ALL very much on the table (your milage may vary depending on how nice your particular family is)

- Outsiders are more or less aware of the ongoing fight for whatever position, as well as how it's going for each party, and can+will take sides themselves in supporting a potential heir, dependent on how important the family is

- If you are a potential heir and you do not end up getting that One Position then depending on how nice your particular family is you'll end up somewhere between "brutally murdered" (...Stans I'm looking at you), "have to get a job + support yourself, with varying extents of help from whoever leads the territory", "okay cool no responsibilities but still some inherited wealth you get to do Fuckall Forever"

This post is getting way too long so I'm putting a read more before I put the Henituse rules and then I'll reblog this post to write about how I think this could affect the canon Henituse (Deruth as well as both his late wife and current wife, OG!Cale, KRS!Cale, Basen, Lily)

And then there's the Henituse who...don't follow any of those rules about inheritance. They have their own, entirely separate rules, for all this. Everyone else assumes they don't have any inheritance bullshit going on - and to be fair, in some generations, they don't! In some generations, it's all resolved very quickly and neatly and it's no big deal. Other times it's a massive mess or takes absolute eons to sort out but it's an INTERNAL AFFAIR that others don't hear of and also they're not anywhere near as hostile to each other so like...nobody knows this. This is how the Henituse have been running affairs for basically forever and it works very well so they've kind of just kept doing it

Um. Here's some rules for how inheritance works for the Henituse

1) The biggest difference to note is that the Henituse do not only have one position (Count, at the beginning of TCF, I guess that switches to Duke when they become a duchy though). Instead they have broken up every possible role into about as smaller pieces as they can, and made each of those a separate position, so that there's like...more than twenty

Some examples of these positions/roles/jobs:

- Count/Duke, obviously

- Knight/in charge of all knights

- Guard/in charge of all guards

- Information gathering (may or may not be separated into "civilian friendly", "welcome to the underworld" and "okay now you're getting involved in things outside of the Henituse territory (military, marrying out into other households, etc) and reporting back" versions)

- Information control (instead of gathering information they're controlling what information others get e.g. starting or spreading rumours, planting evidence, etc.) This one may or may not be further separated into like "this is legal and there will be no/minor problems if you get caught" and a "okay good luck dealing with the underworld" versions of the role

- Free good stuff for the territory/kingdom e.g. anything involved with charity or things that benefit the public at the expense of the Henituse. This probably includes anything to do with orphanages and some things to do with taxes maybe

- Ambiguous role thats in direct opposition to any crime/underworld in their territory

- Effective second in command to above role

- And an admin type role for the two aforementioned, if necessary

- Ambiguous role that minimises harm to their civilians by PERSONALLY running+controlling crime/underworld in their territory

- Effective second in command for above role

- and admin for the aforementioned two, if necessary

- Admin role to assist Count/Duke

- let's have our own personal mage

- let's have our own personal researcher for [insert topic that directly benefits territory here]

- consort/wife/husband type role to whoever is the current Count/Duke. In charge of hosting parties/events and networking with others in the equivalent role

You get the gist there's a lot of potential roles. It's impossible for them all to be filled by direct family members of the Henituse at any given time, which is the POINT. Ideally they want each potential heir to occupy a separate role from each other, and for each to choose something that they personally are interested in + would excel at. The remaining roles that aren't fulfilled by them are either left unfulfilled, if deemed unnecessary or if they don't have the people to fill 'em, or they're rolled together with other role(s) and one person then takes on the combined position of those, or they're given to trusted members of extended family and/or trusted subordinates. But like the point is that everyone gets a defined role and hopefully everyone gets a defined role that they specifically chose that suits them

You could also choose to marry/get adopted out of the Henituse and say "actually, I am prioritising my new family and will therefore not be working as much/at all for the Henituse anymore". In which case you're still expected to be working towards the betterment of the Roan Kingdom

Or you could get disowned. That works too

2) Directly related to there being so many roles...terms and conditions apply (there's age cutoffs and exceptions in case of illness or disability) but for the most part? If you're a Henituse you have to be working for the betterment of the Henituse territory and/or the Roan Kingdom, or if you're too young for that yet, you have to be actively working towards that goal. There is no option to slack off or coast off inherited wealth. Reports are required, either from you or about you from those around you, at least three times a year, with either "here's what I'm/they're doing" or "here's why I'm/they're not doing anything <- this is for illness, disability, or extenuating circumstances"

(I'm so sorry KRS!Cale. No slackers' life for you)

There's fairly strict rules about this. If you miss a report (there's a fairly long time you can submit them in! like at least 2-4 months. just get them to whoever currently runs the territory) then you get a limited time extension. If you miss that then you're suspended/put on default duty (more on what that is in a minute). If you miss a second report in a row (not counting the extension on the first report) then you risk getting disinherited. If you do fuckall for over a year without a single word about why (in other words if you miss 3 reports in a row AND there's no word from anybody else on what you're doing in that time frame that would excuse you) then fuck you you're getting disowned

(Again I am so sorry KRS!Cale)

3) Because there are multiple people and multiple roles in play, things can potentially get a whole lot more complicated than "I want to be Count and I want everyone else to NOT be the Count". Because theoretically every single person involved may have

- opinions on what role(s) they want for themself

- opinions on what role(s) they DO NOT want for themself

- opinions on what role(s) they want [insert another person] to have

- opinions on what role(s) they DO NOT want [insert another person] to have <- this may be because they think the other person isn't suited for it or because they personally want that role and therefore they don't want anyone else getting it because of the preference for everyone to get a separate role to each other

And then multiply that by approximately a thousand for the like 20+ roles there probably are, and then make it several times more complicated for every additional potential heir that is involved because that drastically increases the potential different combinations

It's a lot!!!

Anyway that means that in any generations that do have disagreements about inheritance things get SO fucking messy words cannot describe,,,I'm laughing just thinking about it oh my god

4) Therefore, as equal parts "necessary damage control" and "the Henituse are genuinely a lot nicer about inheritance + each other than most noble families" there are...rules. About the infighting. Jfbsjfbjdnf

Okay rule number one on that front is that you must not harm or cause genuine distress to any other family member or potential heir (no fucking assassins in this household thank you very much). Rule number two is that, ideally we want a family that loves and respects each other, but bare minimum you must look out for each other and have SOME small element of trust+mutual respect there. Rule number three is no involving outsiders. This is an internal matter about inheritance it's not a fucking civil war in the making (....I will forever be mildly puzzled about the whole,,,different factions supporting different princes thing. that seems like it had potential to escalate so badly if, yk, they didn't have much bigger problems cropping up) and therefore you WILL NOT have outsiders sabotage other heirs' chances at any given position, and any allies of yours should either be your ally or the Henituse's ally but NOT EVER an enemy of the Henituse as the whole or of the other potential heirs'. Rule number four is that no matter what else you do you MUST NOT disadvantage the Henituse as a whole nor the Roan Kingdom as a whole, under any circumstances

The fact that they can't harm each other or each others' chances for a position means that their options are to just work really hard to prove that THEY personally are a better fit for it, try to go convince the other themself that [blank] would be a better idea, or resort to psychological warfare (without tripping over the line of "harm or genuine distress"), or start doing elaborate social engineering + crafting their own and each others' reputation. No physical harm here only (limited) psychological/emotional/social harm <3

But again like there are limits to that. Not too much harm. If you're not still 100% happy thinking of the others as your family (even if only distant family) who you'd be glad + not too uncomfortable to eat a meal with, you fucked up. If you ever make a family member feel unsafe around you you definitely fucked up

[subwillsolace]

try shit tuesday nsfw reference post

ongoing and (hopefully.) frequently updated! here is a list of my current ideas & hopefuls including any outlines or snippets i have available.

set up will look like:

idea

general outline/summary

snippet

will having a nerd kink

will is trying to study in cabin 13, because its quieter than 7. but it is raining, so nico is hosting a mythomagic (functionally dnd) session with his nerd friends, and will cannot focus For Shit. he is so horny he is literally about to die. nico picks up on it eventually and kicks his friends out so he can fuck will while whispering stats in his ear. lol.

Oh, he is going to fail. He is going to fail for real. He tries, although he knows it's futile, to calm down the raging in his chest, his stomach. He stares at the walls, then looks quickly away when it is covered in photos of them, their friends; he looks to the door, where his jacket is hanging; to the bathroom, where their toothbrushes lean against each other in the cup; to the stupid bedpost, where Nico, bored out of his mind the last time Will banished him to bedrest, carved their initials in a heart. His heart explodes, a little. He can feel the pounding of it in his fingers and toes and squirms to try and quiet the heat in his hips and thighs. It does nothing except remind him of the bruises they get, sometimes, in the same shape of Nico's fingers, smarting in purple satisfaction. "Ohhhh, my gods," he whispers to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. There are still -- people here, people he knows and loves, and they are not looking at him and it makes them all that much easier to forget, because when he looks over again Nico is laughing, cackling, really, reading off a triumphant list of their consequences as they howl in outrage and whip unlucky dice at the wall. "You set us up!" hollers one of them -- Connor Stoll, Will thinks. "It was a trap, the whole time!" "And you fell for it," Nico taunts. "Oh, that was easy. Shoulda kept your head up, huh, hotshot? The clues were there. I was rooting for you." The noise that sounds out the back of Will's throat is so heady and embarrassing that he's grateful, suddenly, for the group of people in the way, being loud, because if anyone apart from himself heard it he's not sure he could live with himself. If Nico heard it...says a small voice in the back of his brain, and Will begs it to shut up. Instead, images flash in the forefront of his mind, edged hazy from the heat of Will's memory: Nico, eyes dark; Nico, too-sharp canines gleaming in the low light; Nico, sweat beading on his smirking top lip; Nico, Nico, Nico.

hermes/will/nico threesome (to punish cecil for his crimes).

cecil pushes things a touch too far and will loses his entire mind. in revenge, he vows to fuck cecil's dad, not only to cause him menial distress by virtue of 'i fucked your dad' but, because, when they were young, they slept together, and will keeps a diary. so he is going to fuck cecil's dad to report back to him stroke for stroke how he compares. cecil considers suicide. not only cecil, actually, because will is stomping around camp trying to find ways to make himself hotter for hermes' next delivery, and it is working, and nico, yearning, is Fucking Struggling, and oh yeah, worse, will has asked him to help 'practice kissing' as he is out of practice. he is not flirting, he's serious. nico is going to kill him, and then also die. luckily for him will starts to clue in when when hermes takes him somewhere nice, and lucky for will hermes is willing to share.

"So maybe this is secretly a good thing," Cecil defends, foolishly. He straightens his back, crossing his arms stubbornly. "See, I -- saved you. From a day of work and misery." He juts out his chin, turning his head primly to the side. "Maybe you should be thanking me." A sharp gasp rips through the gathered crowd, every single person reacting viscerally and bodily; some, bet-winners, in delight, most in total, dumbfounded shock. Lou Ellen, of the first to recover -- perhaps of the most used to it -- stands on a large rock and begins reciting a long and quite touching obituary for the son of Hermes from the top of her head. Will, for a solid couple minutes, does not move. His spine is set in total rigidity, hands frozen in fists at his side. In what Nico first thinks is a trick of the eye, there is, between the skin showing through dried, cracking paint, a flicker. And then, like beams of light bursting through a cracking chunk of magma, he glows. "Gone, but never forgotten," recites Lou Ellen, increasingly seriously, "he will be remembered for his bravery, or perhaps the bubbles in his brain that allowed it, and for the gruesome, brutal way that he is going to be killed, just about right now. Cecil Markowitz, you will be --" Will' shoulders twitch. Cecil squeezes his eyes shut. The distant sounds of crashing waves fade away. And then, Will laughs. He doubles over. He places his stained hands on his still-wet knees and wheezes; in moments, there is a chuckle, and then there are giggles, and then the rest of the crowd laughs, too -- nervous, and relieved; wide-eyed and tense. "Haha," says Cecil, glancing around anxiously, "you forgive me, right, Will, 'cause that sounds like your crazy laugh, a little, and --" All at once Will yanks himself upright. The crowd immediately silences. Nico holds his breath. Will's smile is small, and crazed, His eyes are so dilated that they are bluer than the sun, almost no black to be found -- he stares at Cecil so intensely and so unblinkingly that Nico can actually taste his dread. "I am going to fuck your dad," Will says, grinning. "I'm gonna -- seduce your actual living father."

nico fucking will while on the phone

outlined here

"Nico," he gasps, hand tightening in his hair, "Nico, Niccolò, please, please --" "I got you," Nico murmurs, stomach writing, "I got you, princess -- " he grins when Will shouts, pushing up his rumpled shirt -- "you're so good --" A loud, piercing ringing makes them both freeze. It persists, and then the pocket of Nico's discarded jacket starts buzzing, and he groans. "Leave it," Will hisses. "Just -- come here --" "I can't," Nico says miserably. "It's --" Will knows who it is, because he groans, loudly, and slumps against the pillows. Nico untangles himself guiltily and digs his stupid phone out of his pocket. "Hello, boy." "What," Nico snaps. Which is probably not the way to greet the Lord of the Dead, but. Will huffs, rolling his eyes. Nico tries to link their fingers together but he snatches his hand away, sulking back against the headboard. Sorry, Nico mouths, hands spread. Will kicks his shoulder. Nico catches his foot, turning his leg and pressing a kiss to his ankle. Will visibly softens, then gets huffy about having given in so easily. Nico grins. "You are not paying attention to me." "No, no, I'm --listening." Nico winces, glancing down at the phone. "Uh, insolence, respect, your holy position as my father, etc, etc." "...You are the worst heir I have ever created." "Yeah, well, unfortunately for you you're shit out of options, so --"

god & prince consort solangelo centuries in the future; will c0ckwarming nico in the court

outline and snippet both here

will getting teased with 'goddamn yall fuck so often you're gonna end up pregnant' and uh oh that Does Something For Him

the thing is that nico has a cabin to himself and will is in there all the time and he might take his medical bad in there for show but not a fucking soul believes him. everyone knows what he is going in there for. mostly because people have brains but also because will is. Loud. and once in passing someone teases "damn will with all i hear going on in there i wouldn't be surprised if nico knocked you up." and its a stupid fucking joke and will haha yeahs his way out of it but Oh Gods he cannot stop thinking about it. it is All he thinks about. and one day when nico is off hunting errant souls or whatever will is holed up in his cabin, just escaping everybody else for a bit, and the bed smells like nico and hes wearing nicos shirt even though its too tight and nico has been gone a couple days and he Misses Him. fuck. in a lot of different ways. so he starts to get horny and hes fingering himself and imagining nico behind him talking low in his ear. the nico in his imagination is a little teasing and rough as he usually is and hes got four fingers stretching himself imagining theyre nico's and imaginary nico says, "Look how good you're taking my fingers up your pretty pussy," and its like, out of nowhere, a little, and will is not expecting it from his own subconscious and he Loses it and cums so hard he damn near blacks out for a second and he blinks himself stable and is like well, fuck.

because nico is gay as all fuck.

nico gets back and will is DODGY. distant and jumpy and keeps finding excuses to not be around him and nico is like 🤨 something is Not Right. so he threatens celibacy until will cracks and hes like okay remember that. stupid fucking joke. and nico is like no?? obviously?? so will has to explain and he is more and more embarrassed and gets quieter and quieter until he just trails off looking into his lap tense as all fuck. not sure what he's waiting for but he knows it's not going to be good. a gentle rejection, hopefully.

but nico is so hard it is actually painful.

and hes surprised at himself a little because he wouldnt expect this to get him off so bad but th emore he imagines it the more like fuckin Unwell he is. so they fuck and nico id very careful with his dirty talk and hot damn does will ever clench up and its just hot as fuck truly.

lou ellen/will/cecil threesome

porn no plot. cecil/lou established. watching will play volleyball and like.......damn. they look at each other. they nod. no words need be spoken. they invite will back to lou's cabin to 'hang out' and come onto him and he goes Bright Red but is very happy to be fucked yeah.

s3x pollen fic where if will isnt constantly getting pumped full of sp3rm his heart will literally stop. cue him getting fcked for hours on hours by literally everyone willing.

outline here

will getting injured and forced on bedrest and hes so bored and frustrated and horny that nico just has to f ck him. but regular f cking will jostle his injury so he fists him

outline here

mortal au

will gives nico a kitkat after every time they fuck and nico slowly realizes he's being pavlov'd into being a ridiculously good fuck. mostly a comedy and a porn without plot of will and nico fucking in various ways in their early 20s dorm days.

will getting teased about being a pillow princess and getting so mad about it that he rides nico so hard that nico accidentally forces the day to turn into night and sends the actual northern hemisphere into turmoil

will gets teased about being a pillow princess. implied he wouldn’t have the endurance to do what nico does. and he gets PRESSED. scowly and mad and celibate (nico is regretting his words hard lol) and Scheming. will pops in his cabin one day going hey give me your credit card. and nico does, obviously, but he’s like babe hey i was Joking. it was a bad joke. i’m sorry. you do lots and im sure you could do just as much if not more and i’m sorry okay. please. and will is like oh you’re SURE? that’s how it is. and nico is ready to collapse on the ground or go back in time to kick his own ass bc he hasn’t had to like handle himself with his own hand for YEARS this is torture. will is nowhere to be found all day and he sleeps in the apollo cabin at night it’s awful. (it has been 2 days.).

one day he wakes up to a note telling him to go to manhattan but NOT to shadow travel so he’s confused and walks slowly to half blood hill where there’s a LIMO waiting for him. with a real and very confused mortal driver. he gets taken to this Massive fckn ornate hotel and bell hopped up to the fckn penthouse and his bags are brought in, he’s quietly told his room service is waiting for him in the bedroom, and at this point nico isn’t even horny he’s so goddamn confused. what’s going on. where’s will. is this his fathers doing. is he about to die. huh. but he walks into the room sword lowkey drawn and there’s WILL, in the Sluttiest scrubs he’s maybe ever seen in his life, eyes professionally distant and holding a bottle of oil in his hands telling him to lay down for a massage. and nico is like well okay i am not complaining. i still don’t know entirely what’s going on but i am not complaining. so he gets his massage and it’s hot as fuck obviously bc will is good with his hands and then yeah, it does have a happy ending. will sucks him off and it’s GREAT.

but then will pushes him back against the headboard and uses his own tie (or something i have not yet decided) to tie his hands to the headboard. and will is calling him my prince and your highness and shit and kissing down his chest and nico is WRITHING and then. and then. will rides him so fckn hard. like rides him to orgasm and then KEEPS GOING. that he has a second orgasm so explosive that. the actual day turns into night. like the fckn sun shuts off people gather confused into the streets wondering if it’s somehow a solar eclipse like its MAYHEM. will laughs himself to Tears nico is humiliated his phone is ringing off the hook with his dad going WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO and will is Cackling like he has never been more vindicated in his life. SO MUCH FOR NO ENDURANCE HUH.

but they ignore it and will carries him over to the giant bathtub and gently and carefully washes him like he really is a prince. and nico drags him into the tub and they kiss and nico fucks him slowly, this time, he does nothing and he is so pretty and it is so so good. and he has his face in the hollow of will’s throat and he’s like i’m sorry. you know i love you, right. i don’t need all of this to be happy. to get off. i like doing you. i like it when you sit there and make pretty faces for me. i like seeing you gone on my cock. and will is kind of emotional and breathless and he goes promise and nico slides into him and his breath is hot on wills neck and he promises.

will and cecil's first time

goof ass outline here this will not be a serious fic

will and nico's first time

outline & snippet kind of here

nico using his shadow travel abilities to portal his d1ck so he fucks will's face but will feels it up his ass

yeah not much else to day. that would be the fic.

[twicedone]

Let's talk about... Pyrrha Dve

So, firstly!!! I want to make it plain here that I am RAMBLING about a character I LOVE and while I'm going to TRY to keep things about them as close to canon as I possibly can - I am dumb, and I forget things!!!!!! Secondly; SPOILERS FOR Harrow the Ninth and Nona the Ninth!!!! Thirdly; I will be making grammatical errors and you will be dealing with them!!! (sorry!) Anyways, I absolutely ADORE (full-caps and bold too!) Pyrrha Dve, I think that there's FAR more to her than our beloathed (I kid) Tamsyn has outright stated! (refer to @dammit-tazmuir 's wonderful post here for a look at the Pyrrha-berg ) and I think she'll be pretty important in Alecto the Ninth! However, this post is less about how Pyrrha IS and more about how she FEELS to me. I'm very early on in my transition journey, poking myself with a needle and crying at stuff all the time... so when I started reading Nona the Ninth and saw all the care Tamysn had put into Pyrrha I started to have the thought that maybe --just maybe-- she'd been intended to be read as a Trans character. I kept reading (and talking to a friend about the books, 'cause that was fun!) and the more I learned about her the more the conviction built in me that she was Trans; well, not LITERALLY Trans. (She had a female body at one point, one that she sacrificed long ago... and maybe that sorta disqualifies her from it but that also sounds REALLY fucked up to me??? So I think she's fine, and can rep Trans pride whenever she wants.) Anyways. She's lived the past TEN THOUSAND YEARS in a male body (sounds familiar.), having to stare at the face of her half-dead best pal whenever she intermittently had control of him! I can hardly imagine a better metaphor for dysphoria... forced to stare at someone other than yourself, someone who you care for on some level (it's you, after all.) but you know it's not REALLY you or your body. It's just your soul looking out of eyes that hardly belong to you. Her insistence on shaving her facial hair and hair-hair, even though it was only mentioned a handful of times, it really spoke to me. I hate seeing anything on my face, and I hate the mop of hair that my body makes. When she asked Pal if he could zap the follicles out of her chin, jod (lol) I felt that. There's also like, just how emotional she can be... (not really a trans-thing but more a TD (that's me) thing.) which speaks to me on a personal level 'cause of all these stupid new feelings I have to deal with. And just like, a lot of her dialogue. I don't know, maybe it's wishful thinking and the desperate need for a role model transplanting my own experiences onto a fictional character! Whatever! It's my head canon, and I'll do what I want with it! Edit; I FORGOR TO TALK ABOUT PYRRHA AND WAKE!!!!!!!!!! I can't be the only one (and I'm sure I'm not) that thinks that Pyrrha and Wake were far more intimate than Wake and G1deon, right?! It seems like all signs are pointing towards it, like Wake only included G1deon by accident because she wasn't aware of what Lyctorhood actually was! I think maybe they even loved each other, in a fucked up and supremely toxic way. Maybe Pyrrha would've actually helped her had she been in charge of G1deon's body at the time. ALSO What Trans woman isn't in love with a crazy fucked up woman? (or man, or enby, or someone outside or in between it all) I'd fall for Wake too, Pyrrha says she's got a thing for "Landmine People"? Wake is a fucking NUCLEAR BOMB!!!! I'd betray my jod to sleep with her too, WOOF!

Thanks for Reading!!! (Or skipping to the end to yell at me!) Please let me know what you think in the quotes, and I'm sorry to dammit-tazmuir if I accidentally pinged them or something, I'm still learning how to use tumblr!

ONE LAST THING!!!!! I will throw myself on a fence and haunt Tamsyn as a revenant for all eternity if Griddlehark doesn't get a payoff, you have been WARNED!!!!!!!!

[cleolinda]

Weekend links, May 11, 2025

My posts

Re: Silent Hill 2: I have now recorded something ELSE that I had to scrap due to multiple, UNRELATED tech issues, including but not limited to Firefox popping up and telling me to group my tabs into tab groups when Firefox WAS NOT EVEN OPEN IN THE FIRST PLACE. However, I have the main three-hour commentary on Maria and Western South Vale done, and I'll post it on Patreon (free) if you'd like to see it early. 

I just. Why. 

Reblogs of interest

All my condolences to Diane Duane, who needs help after her husband Peter Morwood's sudden death.

So. How 'bout that Pope.

("I believe the kids call it rawdogging.")

Salt Lake City and Boise adopt official pride flags to skirt Republican bans

Welcome to the DashCon of BookTok, the A Million Lives Book Festival.

I wasn't around to reblog very much from this year's Met Gala (theme: "Superfine: Tailoring Black Style" and Black dandyism), but IMO my beloved Janelle Monáe killed it.

@jstor announces its Tumblr community The JSTOR Collective

Advisory: SoundCloud Quietly Updated Their Terms to Let AI Feast on Artists' Music

Oh also Discord is going public with a Blizzard guy as CEO

PSA: Yeah, I need to be more conscientious about sourcing as well in the age of AI

The Onion dispels the common myths surrounding autism

These Fragrantica reviews of Kerosene's Followed match every single thing I have ever read about it on r/fragrance and I would not touch it with someone else's pole

"Yuri Gagarin, the hobbyist photographer, at home with his wife"

Lunar Princess Ranni is the only reason I have considered playing Elden Ring

"My edo period samurai roommate keeps telling me how i’ll bring shame and dishonor to our apartment if I keep forgetting to wash the dishes"

Cicada Man, a comic

Soup Patrol

"picture of a cute innocent baby animal 'um this is who youre being mean to btw' thats not even true man youre a straight up vampire and you destroyed my village with your dark powers"

"The medieval warrior, realizing the consequences of his impulsive act, immediately approached the owner of the drone and offered to pay for the damage"

Why a dude might hold a 90,000 lb plane on a leash

Blatant anti-moon propaganda

Video

"We got ROBBED," another installment in the fine genre At No Point In This Video Did I Know What Would Happen Next

2 Old 2 Guard finally has a trailer and a release date

Viola Davis talks about the bias of whiteness in theater training

"Wearing my mom's dress to prove her wrong"

Josh Johnson talks about the first time he met a white kid

"Diver convince octopus to trade his plastic cup for a seashell"

"Time to FROLIC!"

The sacred texts

"happy 10 years of radical saturday everyone!!"

"Would sleeping with a centaur be considered bestiality?"

Personal tag of the week

"I will be adding to 'with mama' as often as possible": I kept my promise.

[pinkyqily]

Summary: Your football season doesn't end the way you want but the ray of sunshine of a girlfriend you have makes sure to tell you otherwise.

Warning: nun just cute fluff, Lolo being an understanding and amazing gf, short fic, Angst at the beginning.

KYI'S RADIO: By popular demand here is the Lauren fic as always my apologies for posting this late not very authorish of me, happy reading readers and as always feedbacks are appreciated love y'all down bad 😛💕

𐑺 Lauren betts m.s 𐑺

You were hurt by this lost, first game of the season everything already going the wrong way for you and your teammates.

From start to finish, you just felt a wave of nausea as the game started, getting a feeling that it wouldn't end well.

And it didn't end well at all.

Defense being in shambles, leading to the other teams' attackers being able to mark target shot on goal, you not being able to block them, your teams strikers not being to get anywhere close to getting shot everything felt like it falling down slow motion wise.

Yelling wasn't going to do much so you tired your best but it wasn't enough to secure the first season win.

The locker room vibes weren't it. No one said a single word and just kept to themselves. All you wanted to do was just shrink.

As a gk, it was your job to block all those goals, but you couldn't. You had no energy left to drive and so you ordered a Uber to take you home.

You couldn't stand the judgemental look you kept getting, all that stress made you forget about how your girlfriend was visiting you so you where quite surprised to see her once you entered your apartment but felt a sense of comfort.

You couldn't hold in your tears any longer and just broke down crying on spot. she came closer to you and held wrapped her arms around you. as you sob your pain away

"Hey, it's okay. It's just the first game of the season you don't need to stress yourself out on it". Even though what she said was true tears just kept falling down your dark chocolate like skin.

You could only a get few words out through your crying.

"I know, but it just feels like everyone is super disappointed in me."

"Your feelings are justified but I don't think they are most of them are just gonna be mad at there own performance". She told you

"You're probably thinking I don't get you but I do, there's gonna be times like this in our career where all it feels like is we're disappointing so many people but everything is gonna be okay".

You where finally able to calm down a little bit after what lo said.

"Your big head always knows the right thing to say huh". You spoke looking up at her with a smile on your face she always knew what to say making you feel better.

You both stayed that way for a while until you had to go change into something more comfy. You both had made way to your bed looking sofa.

Lauren made sure to listen to you rant about the game without interrupting you, only spoke when she needed to cause her presence being there for you meant more than anything to you in that moment.

She brushed your braids out of your face and helped you put your bonnet on seeing that they were covering all over your face. The both of you feel deep into sleep with you laying on top of lauren having each other's legs wrapped around each other.

Just like music, Lauren was like the rhythm to it always finding a way back no matter the circumstances.

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

So I’m in a deeply red incredibly conservative state.  I ran a pride month 5k awhile back. The usual group of 3 protestors with an incredibly loud bullhorn showed up to yell at us about how trans people are mutilating themselves and AIDS is God’s judgement and we’re a menace to children etc. etc. etc. But they were vastly outnumbered by runners and volunteers. One of the first race announcements was that they hadn’t ordered enough T-shirts for the amount of people who ended up running, and would have to reorder, so anyone who wanted another race T-shirt should sign up now.

We’re all used to the protestors by now, they show up everywhere. We just ignore them. Interacting with them just encourages them.

I hadn’t realized how early the race date was this year compared to previous years and hadn’t prepared as much, and there were a lot of hills; not to mention there was some confusion as to the race route which resulted in the announcer referring to it post-run as a “4-mile 5k” (they are supposed to be about 3.5 miles. One guy ended up in an entirely different district of the city from where the race route was and still finished first.) I ended up walking a lot of the race, but I finished it, and did do a fair bit of running.

I had top surgery a few years ago but I’ve only gotten comfortable running shirtless this year as body fat redistribution happened. I had been trying to decide if I wanted to run shirtless or not before the protestors showed up and started yelling, then I was like ah. I will run past the transphobes shirtless like a human middle finger. And that is what I did. was wearing delightfully garish rainbow shorts I found at a thrift store and my pink triangle necklace.

Some Americorps volunteers were directing runners at one of the more confusing junctions, I high fived one and panted that I had just joined Conservation Corps. The sound of angry bullhorn shouting faded almost immediately behind us, and there were rainbow flags hanging in several of the yards we ran past throughout the route.

As in previous years, a lot of tough incredibly fit beautiful older people, mostly women, breezed past me during the race. One jogged up even with me with an encouraging “what would you do for a klondike bar!” I wasn’t sure how to reply to this and didn’t have the breath to express that I did not want anything thick or creamy at that moment, but what did come out was “you did remind me that there’s beer at the finish line.” Another lady who walked and jogged near me for awhile near the middle-latter half of the race talked a bit and complained that one of the volunteers organizing the race hadn’t set up the “water” table with fireball shots that she did for some other races and we just got a regular water and gatorade station!

Coming back to the finish line I was handed a flag and ran past long rows of cheering people. Around the corner the protestors were still lurking, but were mostly silent now. Apparently they had gotten worn out by just standing there and not running. As I passed the bullhorn guy shook himself out of his torpor enough to give a halfhearted “is it a man? is it a woman? who knows anymore?” I passed him and the sound of cheering, and then the 80s music (I remember Blondie and ABBA) they were blasting closer to the finish line.

Once most of the runners were back there was a fun run for the kids. A couple of the older ones had also run the 5k (I just know the protestors were awful to the poor guys ughh) but all of them made a lap around the parking lot and got handed medals. All of the adult volunteers and participants spread out around the middle of the parking lot so that there was someone cheering and waving flags for the kids along every step of the route.

There were free snacks, water and beer courtesy of our sponsor [brand redacted]. There was also non-alcoholic “beer”, which I thought was nice to see, I’d been thinking there was a heavily alcoholic element to a lot of local queer events. I drank a lot of water and ate some food before getting a free beer, which still hit me pretty hard after the run. While I was hovering around the refreshment table a big handsome butch came up next to me and I noticed a faded tattoo on her arm of a chain, each link a different color of the rainbow.

I went to put something down in my car just as the protestors were starting to leave, and realized that they were moving on a course that overlapped with mine as I walked to my car. I decided I wasn’t going to stop or veer out of their way and just see what they did. As I got closer they seemed to be talking about how we had definitely totally noticed that they were leaving (no one had.) They noticed me coming towards them and suddenly got quiet, avoided eye contact and skittered out of my way. Ha.

I stumbled into the nearby fundraiser to cool down and sober up in the air conditioning before I left. They were playing girl in red, rupaul, that girls/girls/boys song by Panic! at the disco, and that Taylor Swift song “You need to calm down” that some people on this site complained was cringe. The lady next to me sang along to “shade never made anybody less gay.” I bought a baseball hat.

It’s easy, I think especially if you’re very online and not very active in your local community, to start feeling like there’s no queer community in your area and we’re outnumbered by people who hate us. Unless you live in the middle of Westoboro Baptist territory that’s generally not true. I cannot stress enough how incredibly conservative and red my area is. We’ve got like 3 very loud people with nothing better to do who bother us at every event, and large amounts of people across all demographics who show up in support. I’ve been thinking about this post by @headspace-hotel about not being able to find stuff online and this is a slightly different thing but yeah. If you don’t know what there is in your area, you don’t know what you’re looking for or where to find it when searching online. If you search “is there queer stuff happening near me” google is going to shrug and recommend you Products And Services that it can Sell You. When I moved back home after spending some time in a much more blue state (but which had much less of a sense of community--I think it’s the way we band together down here when we know just what the stakes are) I felt like I was going to be the only trans person in the state, then someone mentioned to me that there was a local private facebook group for trans people to share personal posts and resources with many hundreds of members. There are more of us that aren’t on facebook. The Facebook group, though, introduced me to many more resources I hadn't known were in my area.

Get outside. Find some sort of local queer event and ask around. There will be other queer people. There is very likely something you’re interested in already happening or people who would love to work with you to start it if not. Even if you’re in a very red very rural state, you’re not alone, and chill or neutrally polite people vastly outnumber the few assholes, it’s just that the assholes are very loud and especially if you’ve been marinating in overwhelmingly toxic online environments it can feel like they’re everywhere. They’re not. Don’t give them that power.

The current legal landscape is terrifying and needs a lot of work but it doesn't reflect lived experiences. Get outside, find your local community, show up to in-person events if at all possible, it’s so encouraging.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

i can't stress enough how this is probably like top five interactions between scott and charles for me its so silly

[X-Men Unlimited #1: "Follow The Leader"]

[stellewriites]

wip wednesday

got tagged a little while ago by the amazing @dragonnarrative-writes so here’s a little smth i’ve been working on recently (simon x reader, cyberpunk au)

2184, Earth.

you wiped the sweat from your forehead with your sleeve and let out a heavy sigh through the bandana tied around the bottom of your face. 

the weather never seemed to gentle anymore in the Furrow, always too hot and the air too thick, which made rummaging for hours in the dump yard - something you did most mornings - tiresome and even dangerous if you forgot your water.

the cloth mask your wore over the bottom half of your face made it all the more humid and uncomfortable, but you new better than to go without it for extended periods of time this far from the city’s air filters. pollution had gotten bad enough over the last few decades that the dusty air would catch on your chest for days after without it, especially if you’d been exerting yourself.

it seemed that your trip was all for naught however. you’d barely found anything that would be useful for your work back at the service shop and the sun was high in the sky now, so you knew you’d be needing to head back to open up sooner than later.

you felt the sweat gather and drip down your back and you longed to clean yourself up a little before seeing your first customer, but the urge to do one last lap around the nearest heap, just a quick peek, tugged at you. you could get cassie to cover for you for ten minutes when you got back if needed.

i give you: a lot of build up and exposition with no simon lmao,, but he arrives on the scene pretty quick dw

npt: @pricegouge @ohlawdthebirds @tempfrangit @red5tars @3amfanfiction @soapcloth @syoddeye @pfhwrittes

[howlinghound11]

Ok i said i'd do it, so heres all* my funny Barnaby sketches c|:03

And Wally is in some too @:)

P.S.- Happy Birthday Clown! 🎉❤️💙💛🎉 @partycoffin

Talkin in the tags as usual lol ⬇️

[the-alan-price-combo]

60 years ago - on November 16th, 1964, the Animals recorded "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood"!! 🐾✨️

[amischiefofmuses]

[active-mind-15]

Accidental Siblings AU Headcanon #14

[Ramblings related to my fic, Accidental Siblings.]

So, I've discussed in a previous headcanon how Bokushi would abuse the fact that he's only a 5 y/o on paper to get away with things since only his family and friends know the truth. But I was thinking about how funny it would be for Seijuro or maybe even Masaomi to take advantage of Bokushi being a 5 y/o to get out of certain situations, too.

I can just imagine if the Akashi family is at some boring ass event that's being hosted by one of Masaomi's business partners or something, and they're trying to make an exit but people keep dragging them into conversations before they can make it to the door. Bokushi would probably have been sent to play with the other kids at the event if there were any, but he'd be on standby waiting for one of them to give a signal that they want to leave and need Bokushi's help.

Once Bokushi gets the signal, he'll immediately begin acting like a child, walk up to the two of them, and complain that he's tired and wants to go home, to which they will immediately indulge his request and faux-apologize to everyone there for cutting the convo short but it's getting late and it's way past Bokushi's bedtime so they gotta go, oh no!!

This strategy has saved them from multiple boring events, and for each one Bokushi gets them out of, he demands some form of compensation for it. Could be anything from pocket money to his favorite food/sweets. His father doesn't know whether or not he should be impressed with how much of an expert negotiator Bokushi has become from this.