#writing with jules

[owenryder]

WHO: Ryder & @julesyoshida

WHERE: The Garden, suburbs

WHEN: St. Patrick's Day (March 17, 2025)

It wasn't like it was his favorite day to work -- would Ryder rather have been on the party bus, traveling from place to place, drinking little shots of green beer? Sure. But he also found that he didn't hate this. He got to see his friends, his bosses were very laidback about him stopping at tables to chat and talk and maybe steal some food off of plates. Regardless, he found himself wearing green under his apron, some goofy, silly headband with shamrocks nestled onto his head, a little glitter on the sides of his face, and a tray full of coffees and green beers balanced precariously as he made his way across the floor, unaware of the catastrophic events that would unfold and begin a lifelong rivalry with his new mortal enemy.

[rafaelcb]

WHO: Rafael & @julesyoshida

WHERE: downtown Merrock

WHEN: April, 2025

With the upcoming obstacle course challenge just around the corner, Rafael found himself doing a little more than his usual runs through town, spending more time in the gym or up at the fitness trail, doing anything he could to keep active and moving. On that particular afternoon, he found himself downtown, not far from his townhouse, ending a run in Cityview Park, and slowing to a stop near one of the benches, noticing a few other people nearby stretching, jogging in place, someone doing yoga on a mat. Everyone seemed to have the same goal in town: the snow had melted and people were ready to get active again. Or, more likely, just didn't want to embarrass themselves on the course. Uncapping his water, he took a long sip, eyes catching on someone nearby that wasn't quite familiar, watching as they made their way down the trail and nodding his head in greeting. "Good afternoon."

[lenavaz]

WHO: Elena & @julesyoshida

WHERE: Lunpine Lane, suburbs

WHEN: early March, 2025

Jules had been in town for a few months n ow, and although Elena had talked to her here and there, chatted at events, said hello when taking her walks, she hadn't gotten the chance to know the other woman yet -- but she was determined to. And there were few ways better to break the ice than showing up with baked goods after you had "made too many" and "wondered if they wanted any." Alright, okay, yes -- she had baked the cookies fully intending to bring them over and say hello, but Juliette didn't need to know that. Taking a breath, Lena plastered on her brightest, most friendly smiled and lifted her hand to knock on the other's front door.

[op1umeyes]

Firefighter!Simon who meets you when your apartment goes up in flames, breaking down the crumbling excuse of a door to make sure that everyone had been evacuated from the building. Gaz was having a laugh about how someone ‘could sleep through that shit’ as Simon had to wake up this poor girl who just wanted to sleep after her stressful day. Firefighter!Simon who answers all your questions with a gruff tone, navigating through the burning building. On one hand, he’s glad you aren’t screaming and crying about the building but on the other hand he wasn’t used to people asking him questions. You ask him things like his favorite color, his favorite food, how many times he had punched people in the face, and about his opinion on everything under the sun. He was on his seventh ‘you need to stop talkin’, ma’am, yer wastin’ air’ when you started coughing.

When you got to the ambulance, Firefighter!Simon didn’t say no when you asked him to go with you to the hospital. Johnny raised an eyebrow at Simon as he maneauvered his hulking body onto the seat next to you. For some unknown reason, Firefighter!Simon didn’t want you- nosy and kind and pretty you- to be hacking up a lung by yourself in the presence of someone like Johnny. And when your breathing started slowing and you weren’t looking around with bright eyes, Simon let you slide your hand into his gloved one.

Firefighter!Simon who, miraculously, has the night off. He decides to stay in the hospital until you wake: thinking it would be the gentlemanly thing to do to make sure your friends or family were made aware of the devastating fire. But when you finally blink awake and Simon asks all his questions, he’s stumped when you hit him with a ‘I don’t have any family’. Simon can’t stop himself from blurting out ‘You c’n stay with me. If you want.’

It takes a full day for you to be cleared before Firefighter!Simon picks you up from the hospital to take you to his (more than) humble abode. He finds that you quickly find happiness in the kitchen, but are more than disappointed to see he has barely anything to cook or bake with. “A damn shame” you say. With the remaining daylight hours, Simon finds himself driving you to a little supermarket in the corner of the city he hadn’t had the time to be explore. You insist on buying everything, telling Simon (a man who you really knew nothing about) it was the least you could do since he saved you from homelessness. And dying.

The rest of your first day in your temporary home with Firefighter!Simon is spent cooking. You whip up a marvelous pasta dish with hearty meatballs that almost make drool seep from Simon’s lips. He sits at the island watching you move around his space like you’d been there millions of times, an unfamiliar feeling blooming in his gut similar to fondness. Since picking you up some new clothes, Simon had learned a little bit more about you than Simon thought healthy. It was unfortunate enough for him to have been unable to get laid in over three months, but it was even more unfortunate that he had such a pretty bird in his apartment making him food and insisting on being near him when he sure as hell couldn’t make a move on her.

Firefighter!Simon who gets comfortable in his routine with you. On the days he’s not at work at assfuck 0200, he’s up making a simple breakfast for you and him before rhe day starts. You’ll eat and concerse a little awkwardly but that wont stop you from asking all about how he slept and if his buddies wanted more of those monster cookies you’d made to thank them for saving you and your fellow tenants. Simon had to relay many praises of your work in the kitchen, only ommiting the details and sly jokes about how ‘Simon’s girl’ was already taking care of the family. You’d go to work by bus or train- depending on how you felt- and then come home and make dinner or reheat leftovers. If Simon was at work, you’d laze on the couch in the main room and watch television and read. If Simon wasn’t at work, you’d bring the softest blanket from the room Simon had placed you in and watch a movie. More often than not, you would scoot closer and closer to Simon before falling asleep against him. When you woke up, you were in your bed- undoubtedly carried by Simon. Oh well. Its what friends do.

Firefighter!Simon who sees you as a friend. It’s basing your third week in his home and he feel comfortable around you. You’re good at reading his silence- the set of his shoulders and the future of his brow say enough- and he can’t be more thankful of that. For someone so new to his life, you seem to know exactly when to let a comfortable silence fall between you and when to start chattering about them things that come to your mind. But when you are the silent, short-tempered, and fatigued one, Simon is more than scared to get in your way. “Needa talk?” He offers, sliding you a cup of steaming coffee when you level a glare at the mug that had irritated you at such an inconveniently early hour. You heave a sigh and your head crumbles down into your arms. “I’m a mess, Si,” you tell him. Though your voice is muffled, Simon hears the shakiness in your throat trying to escape. He rounds the corner of island and places a large palm on your back in his attempt to comfort you. You are wrapping your arms around his neck and buring your face into the frail fabric of Simon’s shirt before he even knows what’s happening. And- as avoidant as Simon is to physical touch that doesn’t occur during work hours or when you fall asleep on him or when you slid your hand in his gloved hand during The Ambulance Ride- Simon didn’t mind your arms and warmth around him. When you started shaking in his arms was when Simon had to clench his jaw. It pained him that it pained you- and he didn’t even know what was ailing you! Simon tried to soothe himself with the knowledge that he was giving you the best comfort he could offer.

A day later you wake up to a crime scene in your underwear in the middle of the night so you decide to take a midnight trip to the convenience store a literal block away without letting Firefighter!Simon know. I mean, hey, he needs sleep and you were not going to wake him up to let him know you would be gone for a total of five minutes! But when you were on your way back to his house, you noticed someone following you. As you turned right for the third consecutive block, you finally fumbled for your phone.

Hearing you say ‘hey baby’ at 0146 had Firefighter!Simon’s head spinning. He was a little dazed because of the abrupt awakening but your casual greeting was wnough to jolt him awake. “Y/n? Whadda ya- what-?” He couldn’t finish his question before you interrupt him. “Hey do you think you could pick me up? I think I got a little lost.” Simon shoots out of bed, hitting the speaker button as he goes to slip a shirt on. “Where are you? Do I need a knife? Are you okay, dove?” He slips his shoes on and is out of the door faster than he is when he gets a work call. “Yeah, I’d bring the knife, babe,” you answer on the other line, more than loud enough for the man who is following you to hear. “I’m about four blocks away, by the Casey’s. You have my location.” Simon peels out of his driveway and immediately clicks on your profile to find the map with your smiling face. “Talk to me, y/n. I’m almost there.” Your breath is shaking on the other end and Simon doesn’t want you to be scared. “I think I could go for some Italian, Simon,” you say truthfully. “A minute away” Simon tells you, tires squealing as he turns down the streets you were hightailing down. Simon steps out of the truck after shifting it to park and the guy scatters. You’re running into Simon’s open arms before he could take a third step toward you. “I’m sorry,” you murmur “I kinda… started my period and didn’t want to wake you but then-“ Simon just shushes you, running a large hand down your back. “Let’s go home, love.” Simon scooped you up easily, tucking the obnoxiously loud crinkling plastic bag into your lap as he easily carried you to the passenger seat. Home. Yeah, Simon and his place had become your home.

[docolives]

There was one thing that Livvy could always be counted on -- being a girl's girl, and if someone was beautiful, she was going to tell them that they were beautiful. (Although that was a tricky situation -- everyone was beautiful.) When the darker haired woman didn't argue with her, she shot her a grin, and went back to fitting herself with beads and boas, carefully sorting through all of their options for outfits. "Ooh, love this!" She wrapped the boa around her neck and pulled a pose, before instead finding herself laughing and reaching for her hand in return. "Good to meet you, Jules. Glad to finally get the chance to meet and take photos together. You're somewhat new to town, I take it?"

Giving a small laugh at the blonde's comment, Jules gave a hint of a smile. "Well, there's a reason I didn't go into broadcasting-- but I suppose I can't argue with that logic," she teasingly added, following the blond to the photo booth and eyeing the different props. With a collection of masks to hold up, as well as brightly colored items to throw on, or signs to hold up, she wasn't quite sure what to go for. "I think that'd look fabulous," she picked one up, a purple one she thought would match her outfit, and extended it to her. "Trust me on that," she took the blonde's hand to shake. "And I'm Juliette, or well, I prefer Jules, nice to meet you formally then."

[mournfulroses]

Jules Laforgue, from Modern Poets of France: An Anthology; "Lament on certain displaced Times,"

[loucifersbitch]

when the levee breaks bucktommy | G | 1.5k | warnings: MCD

It hits him out of nowhere on a random Wednesday in June.

Bobby is gone. He's really gone forever. Buck is never going to see him again. Never talk to him, never share another meal, never hug him. Nothing ever again.

Buck is walking home from the grocery store on a random Wednesday in June when his knees buckle and he nearly goes down. He braces his forearm on the facade of the nearest store, eventually pulling himself into an alley before any of the pedestrians near him feel the urge to call 9-1-1. It's not an ideal place to have a breakdown, but it's what he's got right now.

Setting down his bags of groceries - carefully because he bought eggs - he leans his full bodyweight against the sturdy wall, trying to hold back the tears prickling behind his eyes. This couldn't happen when he was home by himself? Breaking down in public is not exactly what he had in mind for his day off.

He clutches at his chest, grasping his shirt with one hand while his other goes for his phone. Who's he even supposed to call though? Maddie and Chim are busy surviving the newborn stage, Hen and Karen have taken their kids on a roadtrip through California, Eddie is at the beach with Chris. He's not calling Athena, that's for damn sure. He gasps as a sob tries to work its way out. He needs to get out of here. He has to get home somehow and quickly. He needs -

"Evan?"

At the gentle tone, Buck takes a shuddery breath, looking toward the entrance of the alley to see Tommy. He's clearly trying to make himself smaller and unassuming. Buck knows the breadth and width of him intimately.

"Are you okay?"

He's not. Not even a little. But that's not Tommy's problem. Buck is always too much, too loud, too impulsive, too clingy, too…Buck. Tommy shouldn't have to deal with that.

"I -" his voice cracks.

A sob breaks through. Then another and another, and soon he's fully crying, breaking down like he hasn't since the night Bobby died. The night Bobby told him he loved him, that he'd be okay, that the team were going to need him.

Except they didn't. They didn't need him. They don't need him. And he's not okay. Nothing is okay, and it never will be again because Bobby fucking died. Bobby left him here to just…what? Go on with life? Keep going every day like there's not a giant Bobby-shaped hole everywhere he looks? Somehow keep living even when everything feels like it's falling apart, like he's failing everyone he loves?

"I know. I know," Tommy is saying. Had Buck said some of that out loud? "I'm so sorry, Evan. I know. It's not fair. None of it is fair. I'm sorry."

At some point, they had sunk to the ground, Tommy holding him tightly. Buck's breathing starts to even out as Tommy keeps talking, keeps holding him, holds him together at all the places he feels like he's about to break apart.

When Buck is able to breathe mostly normally again, he lifts his head from Tommy's shoulder, sniffling as he wipes at the tears left on Tommy's henley.

"Sorry about that," Buck says, embarrassed for many reasons. "I don't know why -"

"Hey," Tommy cuts in, kind but firm, "you have nothing to apologize for. I miss him, too, and I didn't think of him as a father."

"I know, I just feel silly breaking down like that on you. I should be over this by now. Not feeling so many things."

"Evan, you have the right to feel everything. Losing a parent - even someone who was a father figure - is a big deal. Especially when you're as close as you were with Bobby. Okay? You never have to be sorry for missing someone you loved."

Tommy starts to move his arms like he's going to let go, but Buck catches his hands, placing them back where they were.

"Not yet," Buck says, half joking, half serious. "Need you to hold me together a little longer."

"I can do that," Tommy smiles softly. They sit for a moment holding each other quietly before Tommy says, "You know, grief isn't linear. You don't go from one stage to the next boom, boom, boom. It's not simple or easy, and you'll probably repeat stages a few times. And that emptiness you feel? It never really goes away. That person was a part of you, and that will never change. But all the other people you love who also loved him can fill in the gaps. You'll see bits and pieces of him in other people, and sometimes that helps, sometimes it makes it worse. But the people we lose are never really gone as long as we keep them right here," Tommy finishes, pointing at Buck's chest where his heart is thumping quickly.

"Wow," Buck says after a moment, sniffling again as he tries to hold back a fresh wave of emotion, "when did you get so smart about grief?"

Tommy barks a laugh and says, "It comes free when you lose your mom as a kid and then sign up for active duty as soon as you're of legal age."

"Ah," Buck nods. "Makes sense." This is not the right time, and he knows that, but he can't help asking, "Will you come over?"

He realizes too late how that sounds when Tommy raises an eyebrow and smirks at him.

"Not like that," Buck amends. "I just want your company. And maybe we can talk?"

Tommy's face softens.

"Okay. That sounds nice actually."

They finally get up, releasing their hold on each other long enough to dust themselves off and collect Buck's groceries. Tommy grabs his hand before they exit the alley. When Buck looks down, Tommy shrugs.

"In case you still need the support," he says.

As they walk the last few blocks to Buck's house, he asks, "What are you doing on this side of town anyway?"

Tommy's shoulders tense almost imperceptibly, but Buck notices before he can come up with an excuse.

"Tommy, were you hoping to run into me?"

"No, I just - um - I like the kombucha at that froofy health store you always go to. Running into you is just a bonus."

"Uh-huh, and how often do you buy kombucha?"

Buck knows he's got him when Tommy winces.

"Two, maybe three times a week. Sometimes four."

"Tommy," Buck laughs, "you could've just called."

"It wasn't the right time," he says, squeezing Buck's hand. "It didn't feel right to ask about us when you were going through something life-changing."

"Mm, you have a point." Buck squints in the afternoon sunlight, but looks at Tommy seriously when he says, "But I had already decided I want to be with you before Bobby died. That hasn't changed."

He isn't expecting Tommy to stop in his tracks, or to turn toward him and kiss him, surprising him like he did the first time they kissed. It's just as soft and sweet as that first time, but now it's familiar too.

"What was that for?" he asks when they pull apart.

Tommy starts walking again, dragging Buck along.

"I love you," Tommy says, nonchalant, like he didn't just empty Buck's brain and then make him trip over his own feet.

"I - I'm sorry. What?"

"I said, 'I love you,'" he repeats, eyes sparkling mischievously when he looks back. "I figure there's no point in not saying it. You should know. Even though I think you already do." He looks at Buck pointedly, and Buck nods because he does. He does know. "So I thought I should say it."

They continue walking, and Buck's house comes into view.

"I love you, too," he says. "You should know I love you, too."

"I do," he squeezes Buck's hand again.

"Is there anything you don't know?" Buck laughs.

"Hm," Tommy hums, thinking. They reach the front door, and while Buck grabs for his keys, Tommy says, "I guess there's one thing I don't know yet."

"Oh? What's that?" Buck asks as he opens the door, stepping through.

The house is a little messy. Buck knows he needs to pull himself out of his funk and do some laundry and sweep soon, but that can wait for a moment.

Tommy hangs back, not crossing the threshold.

"Tommy?" Buck prompts. "What don't you know?"

Seeming to steel himself, Tommy huffs.

"What I don't know is, do you want me to stay just for some company? Or do you want me to stay…longer?"

He looks nervous, and it's understandable. Buck doesn't let him stew for long. He reaches out a hand, hoping Tommy will take it and step through the doorway. There's a moment when Buck feels a pit open in his stomach.

Then Tommy takes his hand and steps inside, steps into the mess with Buck.

"I want you to stay forever."

[20kmemesunderthesea]

My dream writing room.

[mediumgayitalian]

He hears him four cabins away. At minimum.

The thing about Will is that he is not a sneaky person. He tries to be — gods does he ever try — but it is so antithetical to who he is as a person that it never works out. He breaks out into hives if he lies, for Hades’ sake. Sometimes even when he withholds the truth. It’s hilarious.

Anyways, he wakes Nico up.

He hears the cream of the opening window and shoved his face into a pillow. There’s a way to open them without so much as a peep — Piper knows how, and Percy, and probably ninety-two percent of the rest of camp — but Will, in all honesty, probably can’t even hear it, as high-pitched as it is. The scuffle of his shoes on the smooth obsidian walls are equally as loud, somehow, and the oof he lets out as he lands on the marble floors face-first echo all the way to the lake.

It’s a wonder the harpies haven’t come squawking, honestly. Or maybe good karma.

“Psst,” Will actually, genuinely hisses. “Psst, Nico. You up?”

“No,” Nico lies. “I am sleeping ever so peacefully and ignoring the obnoxious intruder of my space.”

“Well, get up.” His feet have started to tap. Nico smothers his stupid widening grin into his hand — it’s not cute, it’s not. It’s dumb and embarrassing and ridiculous. Gods. What a freaking theatre kid.

Nico peeks one eye open, and Will is standing, shirt on backwards, scratching his calf, staring at the faintly-glowing altar in the back corner. His pupils are dilated.

“I want ice cream.”

Nico does not, technically, have much to do tomorrow.

There’s training. But there’s always training, really, and also he went to Tartarus, so how much worse can it get, really? What else is he training for? Tartarus Two: The Torture Trudges On? And there’s of course his afternoon class, but he can definitely sleep-walk his way through that one. He’ll wear sunglasses and tell the kids he’s evaluating them based on the level of maliciousness he feels in their energy. It has worked for him before.

He can go out for three in the morning ice cream.

But the principle of the thing.

“It’s witching hour, William.”

“You like witching hour.” 

Fair. 

“Plus! Ice cream.” He turns to face Nico, and he still can’t see, that at least Nico knows for sure, but he tilts his head and cocks his hip like he can. “Ice cream, Death Boy. Three a.m. bad decisions. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not frothing at the mouth.”

Nico makes a show of patting down his dry face, just to bother him, except he realises he was in fact drooling in his sleep and has to then resist the urge to throw himself off a building. Gods. Will is lucky it's blacker than actual night in here or Nico would genuinely have to kill him and then himself. 

"Fine," he says hastily, rolling off his bed and slamming onto the floor. "Begone. I will meet you outside."

“You have two minutes,” Will warns, tapping at his watch. He turns resolutely around. He pauses. He turns again, sighs, then turns, or at least tries to, back to Nico’s general direction, but where he is actually staring, hands on his hips, is the wall, this time Nico does not even bother to hide his smile in his hands. “Could you maybe point me in the direction of the door, Mr. Vampire Freak?”

Nico puts gentle hands on Will’s shoulders, guiding him towards the ornate doorway. He offers absolutely no resistance, leaning into the pressure of Nico’s palms as he stumbles forward.

“Calling me a freak is going to restart my trauma,” Nico says loftily.

“Shut up.” A beat. “Sorry.”

“I’m teasing, you doofus.”

“Still. That was uncalled for.” He nearly brains himself on the doorway trying to turn around to face him. Nico darts out and tucks a protective hand over his forehead, just in time. Will butts his head into the hold affectionately. “You are not a freak.”

Something gross and gooey and soft melts in Nico’s sternum, and his lips twitch, and his chest warms, and fondness bleeds from him, from his pores, wrapping Will’s shoulders like shadow and blinking like gentle flame.

“I know that,” Nico says, shaking his head. “You are so strange. Get out of here. I need to put pants on.”

Will blinks. Nico counts four seconds. Will glances down, and his face heats something awful.

“You!!!” he whisper-shouts, over Nico’s snickering. “I’m going to!!!” He waves a hand. He waves again, ending in somewhat of an accusing point. “Ah!!!”

He rushes out the barely-open door, tripping over the front step and sprawling on his ass on the porch. Nico leans against the doorway, grin widening, arms crossed over his chest. Will stays curled on the floor, face in his hands, muttering to himself. It is so loud it — echoes. Right across the common. Two separate lights turn on.

He does not notice.

Nico loves him so much he envisions grabbing his pillow and beating him to a coma with the force of it. Instead, he rushes inside and pulls on the first pair of jeans he sees.

“Okay,” he yawns, nudging Will’s prone form with the toe of his shoe. “Let’s go.”

“Finally,” Will mumbles. He stays in his ball of misery for five seconds. He gets up. He pauses, breathing in, breathing out. He, realisinf Nico has left him behind, scrambles to catch up, tripping over a rock and very nearly pitching right down Half-Blood Hill. “I want — soft serve.”

“No,” Nico says easily.

“It’s better! It’s — smooth!”

They reach the road. Nico raises a hand as if summoning a taxi, barely managing to grab Will’s collar and yank him back from the road before a shiny, shadow-black SUV melts into existence at the speed of Fast and kills him dead.

“It’s a disgrace, William. It is an abomination of modern hubris.”

“You’re — you’re just like your father, you know that, you —”

Nico’s jaw drops.

“That’s is an evil fucking thing to say to me —”

Will is so loud, he can’t help it, everywhere he goes, he stumbles through doorways and trips over air and whistles as he walks and tap tap taps his ever-moving fingers. Will is loud, he is lively, Will is life, personified, every inch of him glows golden.

The issue is that Nico is loud when he’s around him, too. Like he forgets to keep quiet.

“—that’s that, Solace.” He yanks the sliding door open, hovering in the frame. “Hard ice cream or no ice cream for you. That’s that.”

Will huffs. It’s just barely bright enough outside — there’s moonlight — for him to be facing the right direction, this time, back to Thalia’s tree, as he crosses his arms and taps his foot and pouts like that will get him anywhere.

Nico stares right back, back to the SUV, ignoring Jules-Albert’s grumbling.

He will not give in this time. 

He will not.

“I really just think soft ice cream will help the homesick,” Will mumbles. He kicks at the too-long grass. “It’s — tour season. Mama and I always went to DQ during tour season.”

“Oh —Jesus fucking Christ.”

Will has won and he knows he has, because he can muffle a smile but he’s never been able to fight back that victorious little giggle, because he is loud, and Nico hates him.

Toujours il te déjoue, et toujours, tu lui permets.

Nico scowls.

“Your job is to drive, Jules-Albert; if I wanted a critic I would have summered Ebert.”

Jules-Albert smiles at him. Due to the rotting flesh and tooth decay, it is horrifying, but unfortunately not horrifying enough to distract him from Will’s smug lean, his bright smile.

“If you don’t stop humming We Are The Champions I’m going to fucking gut you,” Nico threatens.

“Mhm. Perhaps. But then you would have no one to bully you, and you will be miserable.”

Jules-Albert barks a laugh, and offers Will a high-five.

“I will crack a chasm open onto this road! I swear to the gods! I will blow up this car!”

———

It takes twenty-two minutes to get to the nearest Dairy Queen.

Nico practically flees out of the car.

“I thought you were too tired for ice cream,” Will teases, jogging after him.

Nico scowls at him. “I am never doing anything with you ever again as long we both shall live.”

“Sure thing,” says Will absentmindedly. He links their arms together, humming at the menu. Nico’s lungs shrivel up and retire. “I’m only friends with you for the infinite credit card, anyway.”

“Oh, shut up.”

The Dairy Queen is silent at nearly four in the morning. Even the machines hold their breath, sole employee communicating entirely in nods and slow blinks.

Will’s laugh is like rolling summer thunder.

Nico feels like he is suffocating, like the humidity of the air churns solid in his chest.

———

In the cold of the late-night DQ air, table sticking to his elbows, a flip-flopped foot kicks his ankle.

“Hey.”

“What,” Nico grumps, shoving a spoonful of Oreo Blizzard Extreme into his mouth. It is mediocre.

There is a dot of ice cream on Will’s nose. Unrelated, there has been an endless loop of anguished screaming yearning in the back of Nico’s mind for the past seven minutes.

“Thank you.”

“Hmph.”

Will smiles. His nose scrunches with it, and the ice cream smears across his freckles. Nico’s heart explodes, just like that. Probably due to the ice cream. Sugar clogs arteries, or something like that.

“I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you need a ride home. And because I paid, you broke pain in the ass.”

He smiles wider. His blue eyes shine darker than midnight, darker than Oreos, and for a desperate breathless moment Nico drowns in his pupils.

“True. But also.”

He kicks Nico’s ankles again.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

The half-frozen brownie lodges in his throat, and Nico swallows, and swallows, and swallows. Will’s eyes ger brighter, and brighter, and brighter.

“Yeah,” he says, reedy. He swallows. Will ducks his head. “Anytime.”

[whenisthefall]

After a little session of love making Eddie quickly throwing away the covers on top of him to get up saying “oh yeah I forgot—“ 

“Forgot what….?” 

You’re already moving towards his side of the bed more, the warmth still lingering there as you watch him throw on his boxers before grabbing his guitar off the wall.

“Well…..I was working on a song for you earlier” 

A smile spreads across your face because you knew he was a true romantic at heart with that boyish smile and how he looks for you every time he walks into a room. 

“Yeah? Let’s hear it rockstar.” 

His heart flutters at the nickname, you get a little more comfortable on his side of the bed, eyes trained on the flesh of his body, the scars that linger on his chest and the  back of this thighs as he sits down on a stool. 

You’re eager to hear as Eddie plugs in all the cords to his amp, he strums about three times before he opens his mouth to sing. But a broken word come out instead. 

He tries again, but this time the lyric is even higher than the last and you can’t help but giggle.

“No- wait, hold on I’ll get it.” 

He coughs into his fist before trying again, but his voice is so high it sounds like a little girl at the playground every time he try’s to sing. 

He can hear you stifling a laugh and he silently closes his eyes and bows his head, this cheeks being dusted with a delicate pink. Too embarrassed to even try to talk because of his voice cracking.

“Oh no! Come on Ed’s I really wanted to hear it!” 

You giggle as you watch him admit defeat and unplugs his guitar, Setting it aside as he walks back over to the bed and lays down on top of you, his head brushing against the tops of your breasts. 

“Try again later?” 

Your hand goes into his curls and he nods before letting out a high pitched. “Yea—“ 

Before coughing once more playing it up as he says “I mean yes” in the lowest voice he can muster. 

[ghiblygirl]

Finnick x Reader where Finnick helps R get over intimacy issues with him after Snow sells her??

Never Again

Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader: Who finally gets her power back [1106 Words]

I didn't mean for this to turn into a whole fic, but here we are! 🫣

CW: Mentions of killing, Smut, Hints to previous forced prostitution, Finnick being a sweetie.

MINORS DNI 18+

Finnick Odair knows how you’re feeling; he knows the emotions, the disgust, the hatred flowing through your veins. Hell, he feels the same way right now. He couldn’t protect you, couldn’t save you from Snow and the awful Capitilians who sold and bought you like a toy. If he could, Finnick would rise Snow from the grave just to kill him over and over again. But he can’t, and as much as he’d like to be responsible for the bastard's death, he’s happy that you two can live happy and safe. 

“Finn…?” you ask, hesitating to step into the kitchen.

“Yes, sugar?” he turns to you, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Are you busy?” You finally take the step into the kitchen, fiddling with your hands nervously.

He takes a step closer to you, taking your trembling hands in his own. “For you, never.” He says gently, “What do you need?” He smiles, that stupidly beautiful smile that makes everyone melt.

“I–” you have to take a deep breath, “I want to have sex,” you blurted. Your eyes go wide; that’s not how you meant to ask that. And Finnick takes it in stride, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. 

“You want to have sex? Are you sure? It’s okay if you’re not.” He says gently. He’s been waiting for this conversation. He remembers when he first had this conversation with you after he felt ready to be intimate after his forced prostitution at a young age. 

You swallowed and nodded, “I need your words, baby.” He said stern but not unkind. 

You took another deep breath. “Yes, I feel ready to have sex again.” You assured. 

He gave you a soft smile, his dimples showing. “Okay, then we’ll have sex tonight–”

“Can we do it now?” you interrupted. “U-unless you don’t want to,” you added quickly. He let out the soft, calming laugh that you loved before stepping forward and scooping you into his arms.

“Hey, hey, I never said that,” he said pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I’m more than happy to have sex now.” He smiled, walking you to your shared bedroom. He set you gently on the bed. “How do you want me, pretty girl?” he asked softly

Your eyes trailed up his body. “I just want you…” you whispered, pulling him down to your lips. You felt confident in a way that you hadn’t felt in a while, and you knew that was because you were with him. Your Finnick. 

He broke your kiss to trail down your body, leaving little nips in his wake. He reached for the hem of your shirt. “Can I?” he asked.

“Please…” you whispered. He helped you take your shirt off, and you helped him remove his. You trailed your hands down his hardened body before he took them and pressed a kiss to your palms. You two shuffled the rest of your remaining clothes off, leaving each other bare. 

“You’re so pretty, sweet girl.” He said, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your navel. Before he ran his hands down your thighs, “Can I?” he asked again, making sure I was comfortable. 

“Yes, I need you, Finn,” you whined as he left leasing kisses across your thighs. Your head fell back against the pillow when he finally licked a stripe up your sex. He groaned into your cunt when you threaded your fingers through his hair. 

His tongue flicked across your clit, building a gentle heat in your tummy, “You taste so good, sugar…” His eyes darkened with pleasure. The heat in your tummy grew; you were so close.

“Finn–” you said, pressing your hand against his, “wanna hold your hand… Finn please…” you begged, as he took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. When he finally took your hand in his, you felt yourself reach your peak. You came with a cry, your thighs trembling by his ears. 

Finnick let you ride your orgasm out before leaving soft kisses on your trembling thighs. “You did so good, baby.” He cooed, pushing the few hairs sticking to your forehead. “Do you wanna keep going?” He asked, between pressing kisses over your face.

“Please…” you said breathlessly. 

“You don’t have to beg. I’ve got you,” he said, running his tip between your soaked folds. “Is this position okay?” He asked before continuing.

“Yeah, I trust you.” You said, threading your fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. A soft gasp escaped your mouth when he began pushing in.

Finnick kept his eyes trained on you, making sure you were comfortable. As good as you felt, he wanted to focus on your pleasure over his. He let out a low groan when his hips pressed flush against yours. He gave you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling his hips away, watching for any expressions of pain or feelings of discomfort. 

Your soft groans and low whimpers kept Finnick moving. One of your hands trailing down to hold his waist. Your bodies moved in sync, one being of pleasure. Finnick dragged one of his hands down to your clit. He needed you to cum before he did, and he was so close. “Finn– I’m close…” You whined. Trying to pull his face down to yours. 

Finnick felt you clench around him, and he couldn’t help when his eyes rolled back in his skull. “Let go for me, I’m right here with you,” he said against your lips. Feeling your release against him sent him into his own climax, grinding against you as he came, his lips locked with yours in a loving embrace. 

You both rode out your climaxes before pulling away panting. Finnick gave you a second before pulling back fully, removing himself from your heat. 

“Finn–” You let out a small whimper. His eyes shot to yours, and when he saw your tears, he scooped you up against his body. 

“What’s wrong? Talk to me, sweet girl…” He whispered against your hair.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you tried to cuddle as close as physically possible. “I—I’m just happy…” you mumbled. “I did it. Thank you… for helping me feel like myself again…” you whispered against his chest. 

“Don’t thank me; you did it all yourself. I just helped a little, " he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

Finnick Odair knew how you felt; he knows the emotions, the happiness, the love flowing through your veins. Hell, he feels the same way right now. As he vows to himself that neither of you will ever have to feel another’s hands on your bodies.

[owenryder]

WHO: Ryder & @julesyoshida

WHERE: Suburbs of Merrock

WHEN: March 27, 2025

The last thing that Ryder wanted to do was go outside. In fact, he would have happily become a hermit if he could have avoided going outside, actually. But he was also getting a bit stir crazy and knew that today, that day, was the only day that they were going to not get dumped on -- and tomorrow meant ice. And so, bundling up in his heaviest coat and his most sturdy boots, Ryder had decided to take a silly little mental health walk through the neighborhood. From his home down towards Lupine Lane, knowing that the sidewalks were always clean there... or as clean as they could be when some people hadn't left their home and two feet of snow had fallen. And made a mess of things, as evidenced by the garbage can he found half in the road, glancing from the number on the side to the number on the home. "Alright... this is my one good deed," he mumbled, hauling the garbage can up, out of harm's way, sure that the lid was still buried under the snow, but... he probably should let the owner know that. Right? Right, he decided, stepping up to the front door and lifting his hand to knock.

[yourcatras]

Mika quit.

Millin isn't handling it very well.

[lenavaz]

"Premade cookie dough is cheating," she said on a laugh, shrugging both of her shoulders, "but if you promise not to rat me out, I'll admit that I have a few packs of it in the fridge for those days where you're really, really craving chocolate chip cookies but don't feel like doing all of the work it takes to make them." There were just so many ingredients, sometimes she just wanted to have a cookie without having to waste half of her night in the kitchen. Not that time spent cooking was ever necessarily a bad thing. Watching as Jules took a bite of the cookie, Lena waited for a response -- and then was invited inside, which seemed to mean that the cookie? A winner. "If it's not an imposition!" she said brightly, nodding her head, "I'd love that. I'm good with coffee or tea, whichever you prefer!"

"And you just don't like, indulge in premade cookie dough? You had to go the whole extra mile and make bake sale amounts?" she leaned slightly against the frame of the door, her eyes flitting down to the container in her hands. Truthfully they did look good, so she wasn't going to tease the brunette too much. Also because the whole thing seemed so wholesome, she plucked one from the container, a lucky snickerdoodle, taking a small bite, perfectly baked, and probably one of the best cookies she'd had. "You know-," she started before she gave it a second thought, as she held open her door. "These would be good with coffee, did you want to come in for a cup? Or I may have some tea bags around here."

[op1umeyes]

imagine ur bd being out of the picture and your little girl running up to si ☹️🤍

   “Daddy!”

   Simon looked down, eyes wide at the little girl wrapped around his right leg. Johnny eyed him carefully. He was thankful none of the other café patrons paid any mind. “I’m not your daddy, love,” Simon said. He tugged his leg away gently but the strength of a child is hard to match.

     “Annalise, get off that man,” a woman cried. In the blink of an eye, she knelt near Simon’s leg and tugged the child away.

     “Dada!” She shrieked. Annalise’s chubby hands reached out for Simon’s. “Is dada, mama!”

     You shook your head. “I- I’m so sorry, sir. Her dad was in the military. Anna thinks everyone in fatigues is dada… Do you want me to get either of you a coffee to pay you back? I’m truly sorry.”

     Soap discreetly elbowed Simon harshly in the side. “‘M quite alrigh’ lass. Simon, here, would take a coffee if your serious. If you’ll excuse me, I got to go. Bye, little lassie,” the Scot rushed, face lightinf up at the way Annalise giggled as his parting.

     Annalise was still cooing and reaching for Simon. You just shifted her on your hip and rubbed her back. “Simon, yeah?”

     “That’s me, ma’am,” Simon nodded, feeling suddenly extremely exposed without the balaclava he had decided not to wear for one single occasion. “You don’t have to pay me back-“

     “Nonsense. I would feel like a bad person if I just let my kid latch herself onto your left and call you dad and then just swoop her up and leave,” you said, reaching for your wallet before walking over to the ordering counter. “What can I get you?”

     Simon ordered a small of his usual, watching you pull the money from your wallet without glancing at how much it costed. He observed you in that split second- a beautiful baby girl on your hip who thought any man in camo was her dad. So he had been in the service… Simon watched you smile kindly at the teen behind the counter who fumbled for your change. You murmured a quiet, “It’s quite alright, take your time.” A well-mannered, well put-together individual who was also very attractive. Simon knew what Johnny was doing when he left and Simon would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought you were a catch.

     “I seriously appreciate the coffee, ma’am, but it was unnecessary,” Simon said as you tucked your change back and waited for the drink. “As long as the kid’s alrigh’, I don’t need anything in return.”

     You smiled. You smiled at Simon and he swore his cold heart jumped in his chest. Clearly your bright smile disarmed Annalise as much as Simon because she let out a bubbly laugh and put her hands on your cheek. “What if I said I wanted to?” You asked coyly.

     Simon watched Annalise play with a baby hair near your face. “Then I’d say it’d be a cruel thing to tell a gorgeous woman no.”

[mournfulroses]

Jules Laforgue, from Modern Poets of France: An Anthology; "Solo by Moonlight,"