#WIP (this shit ain’t never getting done)

[lesmeltingpot]

New pfp for pride month gais

[marvelous-slut]

idk how i keep writing about our boy happy, like i have so many WIPs and two of them are chibs & juice, literally almost done and my brain said “but how about we write one for happy AND finish it all in one day.” like ?? idk guys he has a choke hold over me and i’m not even complaining i love his ass 🫶🏻 anyways here’s to my happy fans i hope y’all enjoy some smut. this also gets no title bc my brain ain’t working enough for that right now, so sorry xx

SMUT! 18+ ONLY my friends, if you’re younger than 18 please exit left! lots of smut, didn’t proof read

“we’re gonna head to the porn studio boys, gotta talk some business with Luann.” jax says, hoping on his bike. tig stands with happy as he throws his hands up.

“come on man, we’re standing right here and you’re just gonna rub that in our faces.?” jax smirks and straps his helmet on.

“never said you guys couldn’t tag along, i know how much the two of you like pussy.” tig needs to hear no more as he walks over to his bike and hops on. happy decides to join them as he does in-fact love pussy and he definitely loves porn.

_________

immediately when entering Luann’s porn studio, tig is gone. he’s looking around the studio, he’s looking at the half naked women strutting around, he finally stops when he sees a girl on girl scene being filmed. not even a fire could take his eyes off this action. happy follows, looking around himself. he sees spots Luann speaking with a familiar face.

“holy shit.” he mutters out, he recognizes your face and body from anywhere. he’d never admit he had a favorite porn star, he did enjoy most of what he watched, but you in fact got him off quicker and made him harder than any other woman he’d watched on screen. he swears he’s seen every film you’ve had, girl on girl, straight, threesomes, but his favorites were your solos. he notices the tight royal blue dress hugging your body and he feels himself growing harder. once he sees you break away from Luann he decides to take his chances. he watches you wrap a bottle of water around his your lips, he comes over and grabs a bottle as well.

“hey.” he says, feeling like he can hardly speak, you turn around and smile at him.

“hey.” you say back to him, noticing the leather that matches your new business partners SAMCRO. he stares at you for a moment, unsure of what else to say, you decide to break the silence. “cat got your tongue?” you ask him, he puts a head on the back of his head.

“uh. no. you just look familiar.” he says, happy doesn’t usually feel nervous around anyone especially women but he felt like he was meeting a big time celebrity which he guessed that was somewhat accurate.

“which movies your favorite baby?” you ask, running a hand down his leather. he smirks, looking you up and down.

“i prefer the solos.” you smile at him, usually the answer you got from men was girl on girl. you grab his hand, leading him to the back room where you and your girls got ready. thankfully most of them were sniffing around the SAMCRO members, giving them a good time. once the two of you were in the room, you kiss him on the lips roughly.

he runs a hand up to your ass and grasps it, before you know it you feel your back against the wall. you pull away from the kiss to help him take off his kutte, as he’s doing this he also sheds the shirt he wore under. you notice all the tattoos and his muscular body, feeling your body heat up. you’d slept with plenty of men and women, you would think being on camera would take some embarrassment away from off camera sex, but not with this man. at this moment you realize you didn’t even get his name.

you pull him by the waist band of his jeans and drop to the floor to your knees, undoing his belt and letting his jeans fall to the ground. once his boxers come off, your eyes grow and a loud “wow” leaves your lips. he smirks at hearing this, he would never not feel proud hearing about how big his dick was but he was ecstatic to hear it come from his favorite porn stars lips. he feels himself twitch as you wrap your lips around him. he’s met with a hand wrapping around him as well, even tho you were some what of an expert at the matter, you weren’t about to embarrass yourself a choke on this man. he notices your hair getting in the way and decides to hold it up for you, his fist wrapping tightly around it. you pull him out of your mouth, running your tongue from the base to his head. he moans out at this action, he pulls your hair as a signal to come up to him.

before you know it, you’re laying out on the couch. happy lifts your dress up, revealing that you have no panties on underneath.

“shit girl. no panties?” he asks, you pull the top of your dress down, revealing your breast. you feel your nipples become hard from the cold air.

“makes it easier for moments like these.” he grins, pulling you to the edge of the couch, he slides himself into you without warning. you let out a moan, you were already soaking wet. usually it took a little lube for the shoots, but this man did something that no one else had done in a long time. he’s thrusting slowly, but steady.

“god damn.” he mutters out, running his hand to your breast. “pussy is even better in person than then on camera. you know how many times i’ve fantasied about this?” he hears you let out the oh so familiar moans that before he’d only heard in porn. you lift your head up and grin.

“is it all you ever dreamed of?” you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to your face, kissing him sloppily and wiping away his sweat with your hand. he can feel the tops of your nails sticking into his neck. “shit. even better than that.” he says, thrusting himself into you harder than before. your moans mimicked what he has heard many times before, but it seemed more enjoyable this time around, much more authentic.

you wiggle yourself out of the corner of the couch and manage to get him to lay on his back, happy was taken back. he was used to doggy style or being in control in missionary, he couldn’t even remember the last time a woman rode him. you ease down onto his cock, “fuck.” he let’s out, he can’t believe what’s happening, it still doesn’t feel real. he feels like a teenage boy again fucking someone for the first time. you grind yourself on him, taking his hands and placing them on your hips to help guide you.

“how many times have you thought of this baby?” you ask, he digs his nails into the side of your hips, making you gasp in pleasure.

“you don’t even know.” you feel pressure building inside of you, ready to explode. “you sure do know how to work a man’s fucking cock.” the words send you over the edge, happy feels you clenching around him.

“oh my god!” you scream out, he watches your face, although he remembers plenty of the orgasms you’d had in your movies, he’d never seen one like this before. you continue riding him, finishing off your orgasm. you feel him go to push you off so he can cum himself, but you hold him down with your hands still grinding onto him.

“oh now, don’t think you didn’t do all that work to not get to cum inside of me.” you say, moving your hands to his face.

“fuck!” he let’s out, he releases into you and enjoys every second of it. no second thoughts. once the both of you have finished, you hop off him and grab the closest towel that had your initials printed onto it, specially made for you of course as you were one of Luann’s biggest earners. you throw one to happy as well, he stands up, cleaning himself off. you throw on a bright pink robe, throw your hair up into a bun and walk over to him.

“you know, i never did catch your name.”

“happy.” he says, you chuckle for a second until you realize he’s being serious.

“cute, i like it. we should do this again happy.” you say, grabbing your water and taking off to the restroom. he finished cleaning himself off and gives himself a pat on the back, realizing now he can have the real deal instead of his screen.

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Joel (41) / F!reader (25) | 4.7k | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak

Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky attitude or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: hi guys!! I’m fresh off finishing east side of sorrow and couldn’t wait to hop into this work. I can not thank everyone enough for the fun we had with esos, but i am beyond stoked to meet this joel because i am ferallllll for him all dirty on a ranch with a cowboy hat on a horse ughhhh, give it to me already. anyways, let me know if you like it 🤍 thank you to @sawymredfox for letting me idea dump on you and give me all kinda of ideas! i love you to pieces! this ones for you my dear!

A03 Link | Spotify Link | Masterlink

Pt. 1: Oklahoma Smokeshow

Half a mile from the turnpike, two miles from home, along the winding and twisting asphalt of Cold Creek road, Joel Miller rasps his gloved hand against the steering wheel of the Rising Sun Ranch’s newly bought—second (maybe fifth?) hand old pickup truck. A beat up nineties chevy with rust on the floorboard and a new-car tree hanging from the rearview mirror. Beside him, his brother Tommy bounces his knee while he takes a long drag off his second cigarette since this drive started. The smoke plumes through the window, then back inside when the chill outside pushes the hot smoke back into the cab, whirling around Joel's senses like it belongs there. The smell is insufferable and makes Joel’s skin crawl, takes him to a time before ropers scars and belt buckles.

“Know that shit’s gon’ kill you, right?” He doesn’t need to look over at his brother's form beside him to know the younger man is anxious, like he usually is on long car rides. “You used to do it too, big brother.” Joel scuffs at him, keeps his one gloved hand on the wheel as he keeps on driving. He’s not wrong, if he wants to talk about the Joel of ten years ago, a distant, ragged and angry version of himself. “Don’t remind me.” He keeps his eyes fixed on the snow coated road ahead of him. He’s cautious at this time of the year, the winter storms usually leave them stranded on the ranch for a few weeks, but he’s lucky enough to have caught the dark clouds before they started to let down too much. The salt on the roads seem to do the trick for the time being, so long as he stays away from the embankment and keeps his eyes on the dimming road ahead.

It was mid day, but the sun sets early in the winter, so it hangs low in the sky amongst the cold abyss, like it’s desperately reaching out for the horizon—like it wants to run from this place too. He looks ahead and silently wishes to himself that he could follow those last rays of sunshine into tomorrow, like maybe he would find something there.

He shakes the thought and sets his mind back on track, why they were out here. “When we get back to the ranch, you need to find a way to apologize to Miss Lou. She really was just tryin’ to be helpful, Tommy. She ain’t wrong for that.” Louise had always been more than welcoming and kind to them, she’s saved their asses more than once and she feeds them more than she needs to, but his brother can never seem to let a good thing be, always biting the hand that attempted to feed him.

“Don’t like it when people go through my shit, man, you know that.” He’s nearly done with his cigarette, thank fuck because Joel wants to grab it from his hand himself and chuck it out the window. “She wasn’t goin’ through your stuff, dipshit, she was doin’ your laundry! Doesn’t give you any right to snap at someone like that. Especially a nice lady who’s husband give’s us a dollar in our pocket and a roof over our heads. Do you have any Idea where we’d be without that?”

It cuts deep because Tommy flicks his butt out the window and sinks down in his seat, he knows Joel is right because they are incredibly lucky to be where they are now. They would probably never find somewhere as appealing as their little shared hunting cabin a half mile from the main house. “Hank ain’t happy,” he adds, like Tommy doesn’t already know that after the argument that led to them leaving. “We wouldn’t be out in a goddamned snow storm for fuckin’ flowers if Hank was happy.”

Joel finally glances over, but when he does, it’s at the bouquet of flowers sitting beside him on the bench seat. “Doesn’t matter, you still need to apologize—to both of them. We wouldn’t have shit if it weren’t for them—“ they wouldn’t, they were on their last leg, hitchhiking across half the country when they found an ad outside of the feed store in Jackson looking for a ranch hand in exchange for room and board. Joel gave them two for the price of one and the rest was history. Tommy makes an annoyed sound and interrupts. “Joel, what's that?” Directly in front of them, on the side of the road caught in an embankment is a little blue car sunk all the way down to the lug nuts. It doesn’t look like the person lost control, but they just drove into the embankment.

This road isn’t frequented and the cell service is spotty, but the taillights on the car tell him there's someone inside. “I’m stoppin’ to help,'' Joel informs him, but Tommy shifts and rolls his eyes—he’s never been the humanitarian type. “Why? I’m sure they can pay for a tow truck. Besides, if they are stupid enough to get stuck in an embankment, they can suffer.” Usually, Joel would agree, but the closer they get to Christmas, the more that iced over heart of his starts to thaw out.

Joel stops the truck on the road and leaves it running while he looks over at his brother. “Ain’t leavin’ nobody stuck out here in this storm, even if they’re stupid. They won't make it through the night.” He shuts the door behind him and stuffs his hands into his pockets. An agitated gust of air leaves his lungs in the form of cloudy condensation amongst the snowfall. He walks up to the car, leaning down so he can glance inside without getting too close. Through the fogged window, he can make out the figure of a woman leaned against the steering wheel, her face casted by her hair hanging all around while she slumps her head against the wheel. Stupid—stupid girl. What the hell is she doing way out here?

He rasps against the window and she jolts just as Tommy comes up behind him, finally having left the comfort of the truck cab. “S’a girl, should have guessed.” Tommy interjects with a crude tone, thankfully before she rolls the window down. She looks a little scared and a lot embarrassed, her eyes are red like she’s been crying her heart out. It doesn’t make Joel sad, it makes him uncomfortable. Emotions make his skin crawl, make him uneasy. He doesn’t handle people crying well, he doesn’t know how to react to it, what he should say or do.

“You need someone to pull you out?” He asks, trying his best to sound mellow tempered and helpful. He’s not, but he won't be able to sleep tonight if he has to drive by the coroner unsticking her frozen body from the seats in the morning. “I’m so sorry—I was checking my phone because my mom texted me and I didn’t see the corner—“ stuck in the snow because she was on her fucking phone? “You hit a snow embankment because you were textin’? You dim or somethin’, girl?” She gives him a hard glance, eyebrows pulled together tightly. “I’m not dim, but I can tell you’re dense.”

Tommy scuffs from beside him and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll grab the chain,” he tells his brother as he heads towards the truck. “I’m gonna pull you out, but after that you’re on your own, kid. This storm is just starin’, might be smart if you headed back to whatever city you blew in from.”

She’s the furthest thing from appreciative when Joel hooks a chain to the frame of her car and the hitch on the front of the old red chevy. When she gets out of the little blue car, Joel gets the full extent of how unprepared she is for a full on impending whiteout snowstorm. Her pants have rips and holes, like they are meant to be there, no way they are offering any kind of protection from the chill. Her boots have a three inch heel like she’s walking along some new york sidewalk with a tiny dog in her arms. She has a jacket, fur lining the hood and yet she’s still shaking like it all does nothing to protect her from the snow.

“Thank you for doing this, but I really could have called a tow truck or something. They probably would have been a lot nicer about it.” Her voice is dripping with disdain when he stands upright again. “You want nice, or you want to be dead? Because there ain’t no company sending a driver out here when were forecasted to get two feet overnight.”

She puts her hands on her hips in an attempted threatening manner, like that might scare Joel into an apology when she looks like an angry child who didn’t get their way. Joel hated people like this, too good for the world with their nose up in the air. He turns around to head back to the truck when he spots the piles of boxes in her back seat. Great—another fuckin’ know it all who think’s living out here is romantic and rustic. “You movin’ out here somewhere? You know there ain’t a mall for like, a hundred and fifty miles, right?”

She’s irritated now, with all the rude comments Joel is throwing her way—but he doesn’t care because the last thing this place needs is more city people thinking they can tame this untouched land. It shouldn’t bother him, because how long could she really last out here anyways? With those three inch heels and clothes fit for a concrete jungle, not muddy plains and cattle. She won't make it a month out here in the dead of winter.

“Just pull my car out, or leave me be, because the last thing I need right now is to get harassed by some old dumb fuck cowboy.” Dumb cowboy? Old? Like he’s the fucking moron out here in the middle of a blizzard in a car with bald ass tires and pants with holes in them. Maybe he should fucking leave, let her strand around trying to find a signal to call a tow company that wont come. “You know what?” Teach her a lesson, maybe then she’ll learn this place isn’t for people like her. With her done up hair and makeup—she’s pretty, unnaturally so—like she’s trying to damn hard to look that good—god damnit—“walk around in those stupid fucking shoes and see if you can find your own way out,” he leans down and undoes the hook under her car roughly. “Come on Tommy, were out of here.” She stomps her foot in the snow and starts to pace back to her car.

Joel makes his way back to the truck and unhooks the chain from the front. He’s had a long fucking day of taking care of his idiot bothers problems and he doesn’t have the patience to help some girl who doesn’t know what’s good for her.

“Hey, big brother.” It’s Tommy’s voice in his ears when he finally closes the door behind himself, huffing in discontent as he puts it in gear. “What.” He snaps, backing away from the stuck car and those sinfully tight jeans on that tight little—mother fucking son of a bitch, stop it!—he cant stand people like her, fucking with his head and getting under his skin. The type of girls who have looked him up and down and laughed in his face at the thought of someone like him being up to standard for someone like them. That snot nosed brat can sit in the snow, for all he cares.

“No need to get all hostile at me, man—I’m just checkin’ on ya. You’re all red and pissy, and nothin’ gets you all worked up like that.” He shrugs beside him with a cocky sort of snort. “I mean, unless—“ Joel jerks on the wheel and sneers over at his brother. “Drop it. Not another fucking word or I’ll leave you here too.”

Tommy’s jaw snaps shut and he looks out the passenger window, the radio playing quietly while the storm picks up, and the road carries on. Joel doesn’t think about what he’s done, only how his knee bounces and his hands flex the whole way back to the ranch. How his heart pounds and his blood rushes and it makes his head throb.

When they pull into the muddy drive, he shuts off the truck and turns towards his brother and the bouquet of flowers. “You really need to mean it when you talk to them, I’m serious. They are nice people who’ve looked out for us for two years. We owe them that, at least.” His little brother seems serious when he nods, so Joel passes him the flowers and heads inside. They have sacrificed so much to help Joel and Tommy. They’d been through dark winters with them, when they lost half the herd to the cold and Joel spent the night in the barn with what was left to make sure they all stayed upright and dry. They’ve all had empty bellies at night, didn’t have two nickels to rub together between the four of them and they’ve stood by each others sides through it. They’ve seen Tommy lose his shit a few times, too—so they know he’s capable of coming back from it. He just hopes this time wasn’t too far—Tommy had yelled at her for simply washing his clothes for him.

When the door to the big white farm house creaks open, Joel steps inside to the warm scent of roast in the oven and potatoes on the stove, Hank in his recliner with the newspaper in his hand and his reading glasses on while the game plays in the background. Hank was a large man, kind of chubby in the joyous kind of way, kind eyes and balding on the top. He laughs a lot, but he takes no shit while he’s at it.

“Kitchen,” Joel directs Tommy, who makes his way to the conjoining room where Louise was probably busy cooking dinner. Joel makes his way over to the couch across from Hank, who drops his paper and gives Joel a long look. “You talk to him?” He nods his head and glances down at his snowy boots. “He’s been real anxious all day. Storm comin’ in is messin’ with him and he knows it's no excuse to snap at anyone. He’s in there apologizin’.”

The older man nods at him and glances over his shoulder where Joel can barely see Tommy handing her the bouquet. “She was really shaken up over it, I hate seeing her so upset. She’s been excited all day and trying to make the house looks nice. I think it was just a misunderstanding, but don’t give him any excuse to yell at her like that.”

Joel twists his hands around and looks up at Hank who wears a solemn expression. “I know, I’m real sorry, Hank.”

The man across from him sigh, then offers a faint smile as he stands from his chair. “It’s alright. You boys are like family, families fight—it happens. Lets get some dinner, forget about all this mess, alright?” Joel is thankful for the reason to drop the conversation and stands with the older man as they head towards the kitchen. Louise and Tommy are talking quietly, smiling at each other until she reaches out and embraces him in a soft looking hug. It's an ease on Joel’s wound tight mind, thinking Tommy had finally thrown a wrench in the only good thing they’ve had in ten years.

Dinner is delicious, savory roast that he can dip soft bread in, let is soak up all the juice that he tries and fails to not get all over his beard. When his bowl is empty and his stomach feels distended, he leans back in his chair and sighs contently. “That was amazing, Miss Lou—I don’t know how you do it.” The smile she gives him isn’t like one of her usuals, it’s slightly saddened and disheartened when she looks across the table at him. For a moment, he worries that Tommy’s words are getting to her again. “Everythin’ okay?” He sits up a little in his chair.

“I'm a little worried. Our daughter was on her way home from college today, she’s finally graduated and she called me this morning to tell me she’d be home before supper, so I made her favorite.” She looks towards the window. “The storm is getting worse, I’m worried her little car wont make it,” Joel’s whole stomach lurches into his throat and he nearly throws up in his hands. “I told you we should have gotten her a truck, Hank, you know she’s not the best driver in snow.”

Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck!—he’s such a fucking idiot. He knew she was coming home today, Lou has been talking about it for weeks, the impending return of the prodigy child, home with a degree to save the ranch—or whatever it is that she was doing. He’d heard them talk about her so many times, she was all brains and no know-how, Hank always talked about how clumsy and awkward she was, but how brilliant her mind was at the same time. He’d always questioned how uncoordinated she really was, based on the photos of her as a young woman roping in the rodeo. Fuck—he should have recognized her... “What’s her name again?” Tommy asks like he has no fucking clue Joel is losing his ever loving shit right now. They left her stranded on the side of the road in the middle of this damn snow storm. He hears Louise say her name but it doesn’t register because he feels like he’s on fire and drownings at the same time. “But everyone’s always called her Honey. Since she was a little little thing. She was always so ornery and stubborn until one day she got into a bee box and got covered in bee stings. Ever since that day she was so sweet, so we started calling her Honey.” Lou has this soft smile and all Joel can think about is how he’d told her to crawl back to whatever city she came from in her stupid fucking shoes. “She’s got a real mouth on her till something puts her straight.” Hank chuckles and Joel abruptly stands from his seat.

“I’m finished, I can go out and have a look incase she got stuck somewhere.” He slings on his jacket, but Tommy is still eating and doesn’t think much of it—dumb ass. “Are you sure? She’s probably fine, she knows better than to get caught out in these storms, she probably got a hotel in town.” Joel shakes his head at them and throws on his thick Carhartt jacket that Hank gave him his first winter here after watching him shiver in the fields. “I’m sure, it’s gettin’ bad, just gonna make sure she ain’t stuck somewhere.” Joel makes his way out the door quickly, grabbing the keys to the truck that they had given to him—“how are you supposed to manage a ranch if you don’t have a way to get around?”

He starts up the old chevy and it fires to life despite the snow coming down in heaps now. He’s worried about the road back to her car, about the probably eight inches lining the long driveway, but he throws it in four wheel drive and tries his damndest to get through it because despite all the things stacking up against him, his biggest worry is the police finding her frozen to death in the morning and her parents faces when they find out it was Joel who abandoned her there to die. God—he’s such a prick.

The road is slippery and tricky, a winding snow covered path along the hillside leading towards Jackson. It takes him twenty minutes in this blizzard to get there, all he can think about the entire time is the half freezing girl hiding in her car and the warm food in his belly that was meant for her. He stops the truck when he gets to the car, the lights are off and it looks abandoned—his gut lurches again, what if he’s already too late? Two hours have passed since he left her stranded and the sun has set now, real cold is creeping in.

He jumps out of the truck and walks up to the window. He can't see inside because the glass is fogged, so she has to be alive in there. He knocks on the window and the door jerks against the cold. “Hey,” he pulls the door open more, she’s sitting in the driver seat, pale and shaking with a small blanket pulled around her to keep in some warmth. The look she gives him could kill a man if he didn’t feel like he was already going to die the second she tells her parents that he left her there.

“Y-Your conscious f-finally get to y-you, asshole?” She’s absolutely shaking, her fingers look purple. “I’m so sorry—C’mon, it’s warm in the truck.” He reaches for her hand, but she snaps it away from him like he might burn her. “I c-can get o-out on my own.” She can and does, wobbles on her too tall heels and starts to head towards the running truck. Joel grabs the door for her and she sneers at him—yeah, yeah—he deserves that. He closes the door behind her and runs over to the other side. When he jumps in, she’s got her hands pressed against the heater while she relishes in the welcomed heat.

He pulls away from her trapped car, he’ll come back for it when the snow has cleared up a little bit, but for now—it’s too dangerous to try and yank it out just for it to get stuck in the road because it has no traction. It's ten agonizing minutes of silence while Joel taps his fingers against the steering wheel, trying his damndest to keep a close eye on the woman beside him. She’s warming herself up and thawing out that burning rage Joel knows is inside of her. When they get closer to the driveway, she starts to fire off. “You takin’ me to some backwoods shack to tie me up and keep me?” He scoffs and looks out the windshield, trying to keep the truck steady in the snow.

“If I was going to tie up and keep some girl, I’d make sure she was less bitchy.” She growls at him, growls lowly and it actually does the job, makes his skin prick in goosebumps while he drives. “Wouldn’t be so bitchy if you didn’t leave me on the side of the road. You know I could have died, right?” He is painfully, agonizingly aware of that fact. “I came back, didn’t I?” The driveway is in view, a long fenced path up to the old farm house. “How’d you know I was comin’ here?” Her voice is a tad quieter now, less abrasive on his ears.

“Cus’ I’m comin’ here too.” He says quietly, halfway hoping it won't reach her ears, but her mom was right—she is quick, smart too. “You’re Joel, aren’t you?” She laughs menacingly, crossing her arms across her body and her left leg over her right with a scoff. “You know, my parents said it was Tommy I wouldn’t like. Said you were this big southern gentlemen.” She laughs a little harder, looking over at Joel. “They were half worried they’d have to chase me out of your bed, that you were right up my alley. My daddy said you were the type to charm any woman’s pants off. Guess they don’t know you like they thought they do, huh? Under all that chivalrous facade is just another self centered, selfish cowboy.”

Joel shuts off the truck and glances over at her. “Look, I’m real sorry. First impressions aren’t my strong suit, got a thing for people who don’t belong out here. Didn’t know you were their kid. Would’ve pulled your car out if I’d known.” She opens the door of the cab and steps out into the snow. “So you’re only a good person when someone’s lookin’, I’ll keep that in mind, dickhead.”

She slams the door and storms off towards the house while Joel slumps against the wheel with his head in his hands. Fuck…if it’s not Tommy risking their welcome, their jobs, then it was him, making an absolute ass of himself in-front of the bosses daughter. The bosses fiery, too good—too good looking—

“Son of a bitch!”

—

He gets into the house ten minutes after she does, his hands stuffed in his pockets and half expecting her parents to kick him out right then and there. He pretty much told her to fuck off and left her to freeze to death. There’s no doubt in his mind that they would have found her dead in the morning, the temperature was below freezing already.

To his surprise, it's quiet when he gets inside. Hank and Louise are in the dining room with their daughter, laughing and smiling and surprised to see her, to see her with Joel. “And he just found you there?” She looks so…so..chipper standing there beside her dad with her arm on his shoulder while he sits at the table. “Yep, got my car stuck because I was texting, I know—not bright.” She sounds so fucking fake and dramatic in her tone, Joel’s hands flex and unflex. “And I couldn’t get out and find a signal because of my stupid fucking shoes. I probably would have died there if not for…good ol’ Joel.” She cocks her head with this shit eating grin on her face that makes Joel's gut clench up and his heart pound.

This fucking bitch—is she blackmailing him right now? In those stupid fucking pants and that top he’s finally getting a glimpse at—and then…shit…

Look at you…just—his brain is going haywire right now. He hates your fucking guts right about now but his brain makes other notes about your guts and its desire to be in them—and that tight ass shirt with your tits just pourin’ out of it—Jesus CHRIST, Joel, get it together here.

He shakes his head, bites the inside of his cheek and meets your eyes, everyone else is looking at you, but you’re looking at him, fully aware of the way his eyes just ate your body up for dessert until he was stuffed. “Real winner you guys have here, mom and dad…real winner.”

If there’s one thing Joel is certain of, it’s that he is in big, big fucking trouble.

[justagalwhowrites]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags, @beardedjoel and @sawymredfox!!

I've got a few things in process at the moment. Snippets from all three (HELP) below the cut!

Halcyon - Joel and Goldie are finally happy and I love them so much!

Unlike your last book, Joel had read this one early. You’d shared it with him not long after the two of you got together, the ending uncertain in that version.  “I think I’m going to change the second half,” you said as the two of you sat on his couch, your feet on his lap and your manuscript in his hands. “It just doesn’t… I dunno. It doesn’t feel right.”  “I’ll leave that to you, baby,” he’d said, giving the arch of your foot a squeeze. “But I thought it was incredible. Really.”  You’d beamed at that, damn near glowing. But you had rewritten the second half and Joel loved it even more then. You took the book from something that was full of pain and longing with an uncertain ending into a journey alongside the characters as they found their way through all that pain to reach something beautiful at the end.  Joel didn’t know much about books but he knew how the future looked with you in it, how right things seemed now, and he treasured the physical manifestation of the fact that you felt the same. 

Yearling AU - Bambi is out at a bar. I wonder who she might run into there 👀

“You said you were going to dress up!” Marisa said as you went in to hug her and give her a peck on the cheek. “What the fuck?”  “I’m dressed up!” You said, defensive.  “No you’re not,” Julie said, gesturing at you with her beer bottle. “That is not dressed up.”  “Excuse you,” you said. “I’ll have you know that this -“ you gestured to your button down shirt “was ironed today. And these jeans are clean AND my boots have never seen the inside of a barn. I’m dressed up.”  “You have dresses,” Marisa said, her eyes narrowed. “I know you have dresses. I’ve seen you wear dresses.”  “That’s because I was trying to fuck you,” you said, taking your seat across from her. “I only wear dresses when I’m trying to seduce someone and ain’t no one here I’m trying to jump into bed with so ain’t much point in wearing a dress now, is there?”  “You could seduce me,” Julie said, waggling her eyebrows at you.  “I am not going to try to get my ex-girlfriend’s girlfriend into bed,” you said, reaching out and taking Marisa’s beer from in front of her and taking a sip while ignoring her righteous indignation. You winked at her. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

This started based on a post that @cavillscurls made on Twitter that @chippedowlmug sent to me and I got the brain rot so this will come along soon! Likely a long one shot or short series.

“Joel!” Tommy had waved him over that day. “C’mere, someone I want you to meet.”  His brother introduced you as though you were just another person, not the love of his life just sitting there waiting for him to show up.  “Hi,” you said brightly, holding out your hand. “Good to meet you! I think Tommy’s done nothing but talk about his big brother for the last few months, it’s nice to put a face to the name.”  “Well, my brother’s full of shit,” Joel said. “Don’t trust a thing he says.”  “Damn,” you smiled, taking a sip of your drink. “He said such good things, too.” 

NP tags: @burntheedges @gutsby @whocaresstillthelouvre @mysticnightmarewrites @joelsdagger

[messitydepressity]

Slipping this bad boy under the radar at just shy of midnight.

Kind of a WIP as it’s a snippet of the next chapter of ‘Fix You’ I’ve been busting ass on.

Subject matter is dark and may be triggering for some, please be mindful.

*please note that this isn’t fully edited

‼️TRIGGER WARNING - SCHOOL SHOOTING‼️

—

Mind roaring with silence, he finds himself zoning out to the swirl of his coffee.

Gasps break past the empty quiet of his mind, his own deep slow breathing as fury and wrath had steeled his resolved and steadied his hands.

The soft huffs of his brother’s much more even breathing just over his shoulder, eyes focused and honed.

A soldier with a job to do.

“You can’t blame yourself for this; this is not your fault.” He’s standing in the kitchen, eyes glued to the cold coffee in his mug, and jaw twitching when her voice makes him jump, black liquid spilling over the rim of its container.

Tess is doing that thing where she tries to talk some sense into him, but she’s fighting a losing battle.

If he can’t blame himself, then who does he blame?

The father that’d brought a loaded gun into her school and slaughtered kids in the name of his newly deceased child?

He might be to blame for the trauma his kid now carries but he ain’t the one mismanaging it.

That has to be him.

It’s his job to make sure Ellie knows how to navigate the shit life throws at you, no matter how awful.

He’s never been the best at that, knowing how to carry the heavy stuff.

“Joel, she’s grieving and she’s young, we both know that what’s been going on is a lot and she’s finding her way through it.” An understatement, a horrifically dumbed-down assessment.

They’d attended funerals with tiny caskets, they’d watched Jesse’s uncle break down outside of the ICU as the kid had been put on life support.

People rarely come back from that, but kids are resilient and he’s fucking hoping.

For everyone's sake, but especially for Ellie’s.

She and Jesse have been as thick thieves for half their lives, and Dina ain’t fairing all that well either.

Young love had recently started making the shy kids awkward and funny as hell to watch.

“It’s my job to keep her safe Tess and I haven’t been doing all too great at that if you hadn’t noticed.” When he meets her eyes, they’re just as sad and tired as his own.

The whole damn town is struggling in the aftermath of the shooting.

“You wrestled an armed assailant to the ground after he fired at you and kept her from getting in the crossfire.” She tells him matter-of-factly like she’s reciting a line from the daily newspaper.

He might’ve done so, but he’d also killed that man in front of her and had let her see a part of him he’d always known lived within him.

The ability to kill in order to protect, the willingness to take a life without remorse.

He’d do it again, so long as it meant Ellie made it home alive.

“She saw me murder a man, she’s bound to be fucking terrified of me.” Sure as hell acts like it, and that doesn’t just hurt, it kills.

Something in his chest shrivels at the thought that his child might be afraid of him now.

That he’s not her safe person any longer.

“Terrified? Texas, that girl loves you with her whole heart, she’s not scared of you.” Pouring his stale coffee down the drain and settling the cup into the sink with a clatter, he shakes his head.

—

Hoping to get this out Thursday, but we’ll see. 🫠

[corazondebeskar-reads]

wip wednesday!

thank you @milla-frenchy @slimybeth69 and @aurorawritestoescape for the tags 🖤🖤🖤

we've got three Joels and a Din because I am too excited about all of these and want to share 🥰

of rage and ruin - chapter ten

“Nope,” he pops the p as his smirk grows. “Got a better way t’shut you up.”  The thing about him being nude all the time is that you’re hyper aware of the status of his cock like, all the time. It’s been half mast for the last hour, but it’s paying full attention now.  “Guess I’m just as much of a dog as you. Got me over here like Pavlov.” “Pavlov was the scientist,” Joel says absently, stroking his cock and scooting closer to where you’re sitting up in anticipation.  “S’there a way to shut you up?”

alpha!Joel x omega!reader

“ ...the other agents would leave if they were getting shown up by an omega. It took years after I got my license for them to finally let me work on my own.” “Well, it ain’t gonna be a problem,” Joel decides, leaning back against the booth.  “Oh?” You decide to entertain his stubbornness.  “Yeah, oh. I’m just gonna tell ‘em I won’t work with another agent there. It’s you, or I’ll take my business elsewhere.” You almost don't hear the last part, with how hard your heart starts to thump in your ears.

cowboy!Din

“Now, you listen to me, little girl,” he rumbles, and tugs on the lasso so it tightens a little. “You will cooperate, or so help me, I will throw you over my shoulder and haul your ass home.”

can't lose what you never had (new wip)

dark!QZ!joel x f!oc!reader

He’s a sick, sick man. He thought he’d hit rock bottom before. He’s done unspeakable things without flinching, but this is… this is beyond any of that. But oh, god, he just can’t give a shit anymore, not when she’s got her nose pressed to his pubes, his fat cock fully seated in her throat.  “Good girl,” he groans. “Good puppy, takin’ my cock like that. Fuck.”  He forgets all about his depravity when she looks up at him through watery eyes, preening at his praise. She’s just so happy, so pleased to be pleasing him. It’s addictive. He can’t get enough of this girl, of her unwavering loyalty, of her pure obedience. He’s obsessed. His eyes gleam with a possessive thrill, and he grabs the back of her head, pressing her impossibly further, groaning like a whore.

(if anyone feels like giving their opinion - would y'all prefer it still be second person if it's an oc? The story is mostly from Joel's POV, and she's an OC because she came to life in my head fully formed with a very extensive backstory. I know OCs aren't very popular, but when a character tells me their story, I am beholden to it.)

npt: @kewwrites @kiwisbell @covetyou @guiltyasdave @cavillscurls @penvisions and anyone who wants to share!!

[ladykailitha]

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames or specific AUs your WIPs; not titles, filenames (eg werewolf AU, unnamed mafia omegaverse, or Steve's Rizz vs Eddie's Zero Filter.)

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write at least 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

My only problem is that I tend to file name what the title is so I can find it easier, so...here’s what they were called before I titled them.

“File” Names

Stripper AU

Olympic Swimmer AU

Sugar Daddy/Baby AU

Metal Band AU

Snippet

“Steve!” Dustin cried. “I tried to call you but your line was busy!”

Steve let out a long slow sigh. “Other people do call me, Dusty. Like the guy who’s paying for all this?”

Dustin huffed. “Well if you would just tell me who he is, maybe I would be more forgiving...”

“Ain’t gonna happen, Dusty,” Steve bit out. “I don’t want it getting back to my dad who it is. And before you tell me you’ll never tell. You’ll say something when you think no one is around and someone will hear you. Until my dad gives up his little Crusade, I ain’t gonna tell you shit.”

“Come on, Steve...” Dustin begged.

“I was going to take everyone to the arcade today but if you’re going to keep hounding me about it, maybe I won’t.”

The line went silent.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Dustin murmured. “I just want to make sure he’s a good guy and not taking advantage you.”

Steve let out a breath through his nostrils and closed his eyes tightly. “He isn’t even in Hawkins right now and I don’t know when he’ll be back, okay?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay.”

Then he held the phone away from his ear.

Wait for it.

Wait…for…it.

“You want to take everyone to the arcade?!” Dustin screamed.

****

Look there was a spicier snippet I could have done but this one was more fun.

It's that great and wonderful time of the week again! WIP Wednesday!

The game runs from 8am-11pm EST.

Send in as many asks as you want as often as you want.

@mira-jadeamethyst @zerokrox-blog @forgottenkanji @w1ll0wtr33 @thesecondfate

@acingthecounts @beelze-the-bubkiss @just-a-tiny-void @kultiras @niniel-karenine

@dreamercec

Come join my writing discord server where I answer fanfic questions, author questions, or just chat about whatever. I love hanging out with you guys.

I do have to step out for a little bit for my son's back to school night, but don't let that deter you.

[britcision]

Listen I can’t finish it tonight but I’m real real close but next week is gonna be buuuuuuusy so chapter 15 is right on the line of done and we’ll see if I get it up before next Wednesday 👀

If I do, we may not have a WIP Wednesday next week so again, we shall see

This week, have second place from the poll, Waylon and Danny!

————————

I’ll Take The Highway part vi

Waylon sat back in his seat, back scraping against the wall of the booth as he surveyed the kid in front of him.

Little squirt was tougher ‘n he looked, that much was definitely true. Harley had given him the short run down on their way to the milkshake bar, all the powers she knew he had.

And that he’d been hunted by his folks for a while. Waylon knew how that kinda shit could mess ya up.

He appreciated the heads up too, cuz this kinda shit coming up outta nowhere? Also pretty damn rough. He’d wondered if the kid just wanted to come along for another fight.

If he just wanted another chance to say he’d looked Killer Croc in the eye.

But there was no real bravado there, not even when he challenged Waylon to a rematch. Shit, the kid treated him more normal than most of his henchmen had ever managed to.

Made sense, knowing he was part a ghost an’ fought ghost rogues, but it left Waylon wondering. Apparently he was getting his answer.

Same damn question he’d asked himself a thousand times, ‘specially around the kind of young vigilantes who’d taken a turn to the bad.

Didn’t mean he had a good answer.

He regarded the kid for a long minute, watching the fidgeting, the sudden shyness from a boy who’d literally tackled him from behind on a whim.

This wasn’t just an idle question. Something made him sure of that, and he’d never been involved in all that much of the really weird shit. You heard stories, especially in Arkham.

So he decided to give the kid the best answer he had.

“Cuz I was the worst version of myself. I let myself be the monster they thought I was, got pretty good at it. But it never made me happy.” He paused, mulling it over.

Chuckled softly and looked down into his half drunk milkshake. It was kinda funny how obvious it seemed, in hindsight.

“Shit, there was never even anythin’ I wanted. Not like Penguin, Freeze, or the others. People treated me like a monster so I tried to be one, cuz why the hell not? Couldn’t be worse, could it?”

His gaze shifted back to Danny’s face, watching the kid’s expression. No judgement, which was nice. But he did look confused.

“So you just… got sick of it?” Danny asked, his brows furrowed as he played with his fingers.

Waylon chuckled and shook his head.

“Kinda. Spent a while thinkin’ if people couldn’t treat me with respect, fear’d do. But it ain’t the same. An’ I never had the drive or creative cruelty to stand out in Gotham.”

Danny looked a little incredulous at that, eyebrows rising, but he caught himself before commenting. Snickered and shook his head.

“Yeah, I guess being in a city that’s used to people like Scarecrow and the Joker puts “big and green” into perspective,” he agreed dryly, and Waylon laughed.

It felt good to laugh.

“Oh yeah. City’s got more than its share of low level thugs anyway. I spent a while as extra muscle for the big boys, but I ain’t the takin’ orders sort,” he explained with a modest shrug.

Danny grinned, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward.

“What, a shy and retiring guy like you?” He asked, clearly teasing, and Waylon waved a hand dismissively.

“I’m lucky it was Gotham,” he added after a moment, reflection sobering his mood. “Got sent t’ Arkham. Met Harley. An’ the Bat’s not all that bad. He tried gettin’ me outta the life a couple times.”

Danny cocked his head, a slight frown returning to his face. Following Waylon’s lead.

“How did Batman try and get you out?” There was a little too much intensity for it to be a casual question, and Waylon noted it. Not that he’d figure it out on his own.

Just tryin’ to make sure he didn’t damage the kid.

“Oh, there were a couple ways. Got me moved down to Florida once. Out in the green, away from people. I figured bein’ a wild animal might be more my speed, but it wasn’t. An’ it got messy when I left. Like that whatever he tried, really. There’s lines you can’t uncross.”

Lines like being a cannibal.

Not that he was sobbin’ on a preacher’s shoulder about it. Most of the people he’d eaten were assholes who’d deserved it, and it’d been a preference not a need.

For all people loved to go on about him eatin’ kids and babies, he’d never actually done it. A guy had to have standards.

Made it easy to stop, once he was in a better head space. He and Harley had talked a lotta old shit out.

Kid didn’t need to know those grisly details though, at least not from his own mouth. Watching Danny a moment longer, Waylon came to a decision.

“Look, kid. There’s a lotta reasons people go bad. Some of ‘em can’t be helped. But if they’re not gettin’ anything out of it, if there’s no goal? The appeal runs out. And sometimes all it takes is someone willin’ to reach down an’ haul yer back up to the light.”

He wouldn’t ask if that was the case with whoever the kid wanted to help. Everyone heard stories, ‘specially about heroes meeting their evil selves.

The fear looked personal, but the asking coulda been for anyone. Waylon was in no rush to judge.

Danny mulled over his words for a while, lips moving soundlessly as he frowned down at the table. This time when he looked up, there was a peace in his eyes.

He’d come to a decision. Good for him.

“Thanks, Waylon. You seem like a pretty great guy to me,” he said simply, and Waylon definitely did not feel a lump in his throat.

“This is after years o’ Harley workin’ on me,” he grumbled gruffly. Shaking his head, he slurped down the last of his milkshake quickly.

Nothing like brain freeze to explain being a little misty eyed.

——————

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor r @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook

[pizzaqueen]

#23 for the spotify wrapped fic thingy!! 👀

23 was Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace by Cheap Trick

I feel like I’m cheating a little, here, because this is a snippet from a WIP (called Ain’t Even Done With the Night where Steve and Eddie go to a concert somewhere and then Steve wants to pick up a couple of girls when they go to a bar after and Eddie goes along with it because he just does—nothing really happens between them and the girls btw!!) that just happens to have this song on the ‘soundtrack’.

But I do think it fits the song? And I did write it just for this, so hopefully that counts!!!

“So…” Steve shifts, making the ancient mattress dip as he moves; the springs creak, echoed moments later through the wall from the bed in the adjoining room. Those springs are probably squeaking for a different reason though. “Are you going to see that chick again?”

Eddie glances over at Steve. There’s something guarded in the tone of his voice, and his face doesn’t give anything away either. “Maybe.”

“Cool.” Steve nods, pressing his lips together. “I mean, she gave you her address, and we’re not that far away, so it would be easy.”

“Yeah, she said we could be penpals.”

Steve huffs. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“It would just be as friends,” Eddie says, cautiously, wondering at the bitterness in Steve’s voice. Or maybe he’s imagining it.

“Sure.”

“No, really.” Eddie’s brow furrows. “I’m not interested in her. She wasn’t interested in me.” He pauses, then adds, “Except as a friend.”

“Then why…” Steve shakes his head. “Why did you agree to go back to their place?”

“Because you wanted to.”

Steve blinks. “You’re saying you just went along with it because I wanted to?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to ruin your night.” Eddie lets his head tip back, thunking against the wall. “Which I guess I did, anyway.”

“Dude. I told you—” A muscle in Steve’s jaw ticks. “Look, if I cared more about getting laid than I cared about you, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be back there with her.”

“Aww, shucks.” The beat of Eddie’s heart belies his teasing tone, and he’s glad Steve can’t hear it.

“I mean it. You don’t know…” Steve toys with the comforter. “You don’t know how much you…” He sighs, shaking his head.

“Steve?”

“Nothing, man.” Steve runs a hand over his face. Silence stretches out, punctuated by the continued creaks from the other room, now accompanied by grunts and moans, and the buzzing of the bare bulb, the traffic outside. “Look, I’m glad you’re feeling better and…” He sighs again. “We should probably get some sleep if we want to get back early.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just watches as Steve slips down, rolling over so his back is toward Eddie. There’s a churning in his stomach and, before he knows what he’s doing, he’s saying, “I wasn’t sick.”

“What?” Steve glances over his shoulder.

“I didn’t feel sick, back at the apartment.”

More creaks as Steve pushes himself up, sitting beside Eddie again. “Then what…”

“I just…” This is it, Munson. Now or never. Eddie draws in a deep breath and says, “I couldn’t be there, knowing you were with her.” He looks at Steve. “You know?”

“Did you like her?”

Eddie sighs. “Steve.”

Steve gives a little shakes of his head.

“C’mon, man,” Eddie says, hating the pleading tone in his voice, “don’t make me say it.”

There’s a sharp inhale of breath and then a soft, “Oh,” and Eddie’s chest goes tight and his stomach drops.

“Yeah…” The noise from the next room over stops; a door opens and closes down the hall. “Do you want me to get another room?” Eddie tries to keep his tone light, but he’s pretty sure he fails. Spectacularly.

“No.” Steve’s voice is certain, brooks no arguments, and when Eddie looks at him, he doesn’t see disgust or pity or anything except… Oh. Oh shit. “No,” Steve repeats, hand darting across the worn comforter, stopping short of grabbing Eddie’s, “I want you to stay,” and it’s all Eddie needs to hear.

[coins-that-never-land]

So I know it’s not WIP Wednesday, and I usually tend to save my WIPs until they’re done, but I figured just this once I’d start switching it up a bit!

For the few of you that already know, this is a snippet of my rock band hangster au!!

For those of you that don’t: it’s basically what it implies!

“Ya don’t like havin’ people’s eyes on ya?”

Hangman seemed unbothered as he looked up from the menu, focused purely on him.

If he was honest -

“I don’t dislike it,” he countered, trying to glance around surreptitiously at his surroundings without seeming as if he was bothered. Because he absolutely was a bit surprised. “I’m not usually being watched while I eat, anyways.”

A quiet huff from across the table drew his attention back to Seresin, who was holding up a glass of water with the most self-assured expression that he’d ever seen.

“Well. Gotta get used to it then, Roo.”

…What?

“‘Roo’?”

Jake’s affirming hum was swallowed by the drink that he was taking, before he set the glass back down on the table.

He hadn’t even touched his drink.

He should have.

Frankly, his whole throat was sandpaper. Maybe he had some new disease.

Because he didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, other than -

“Yeah. We’re callin’ ya ‘Rooster.’ Took ya long enough to get off the fuckin’ perch and sing for us.”

He was too busy staring at the pleased smirk on Jake’s face, but felt his mind turn the cobwebs from his brain.

“Roosters aren’t songbirds,” he found himself saying instead.

“No, but they ain’t too good at doin’ what they should, either. Ya ever see ‘em? Territorial, stubborn shits.”

Lord.

Hangman was the one…giving him a nickname?

Why?

…

And -

“So why - ”

“Ya know why,” Seresin’s smile was a little softer. It had to be, he swore that he wasn’t imagining it. “If ya want the spot, it’s yours, Roo. We ain’t considerin’ anyone else.”

He…Jake had to be joking.

“What about the others?” His throat was still dry, even though he’d taken a drink of water. He was starting to think he needed something stronger than that. “Tash said - ”

“Other people auditioned, yeah. But we ain’t gonna use ‘em, not ‘less ya say no. It’s yours first, if ya want it.”

…The frontman position for Aviator Silencers?

He would be an idiot to say no.

(Even this - whatever the hell conversation that he was having with Jake Seresin - wasn’t quite charged with the weird ass rivalry that they used to have. At least, not the kind that had to be spitting insults every five minutes.)

(Jake was still getting on his nerves, but…in a manner that he could almost appreciate. So it would be fine.)

“Yes,” he nodded, head moving so aggressively on his neck that he thought he’d give himself a concussion. “I’d be honored.”

Another small snort, before Seresin was waving the waiter back over.

“A bottle of,” Jake trailed off, raising an eyebrow at him.

…Oh.

“White?”

Seresin had nodded before he could second-guess himself, which sent a small wave of relief through him at having understood the question correctly without verbalizing it.

“Bottle of your finest white, please, m’dear. Don’t matter which.”

“Of course, Mr. Seresin. I’ll be right back.”

But the smile on Jake’s face - the one that seemed almost giddy - was focused on him again, and his breath caught automatically.

He couldn’t help it.

It wasn’t as if he was blind.

Jake Seresin - Hangman, lead guitarist of Aviator Silencers - was, and always had been, exceptionally beautiful.

Somehow, the time away, combined with stardom, had only been kind to the guy.

(Not that he planned on verbalizing any of that himself. He wasn’t blind, but he wasn’t an idiot, either.)

(They had never gotten along, but again - not blind.)

And when the waiter returned, handing Hangman the entire uncorked bottle of Sauvignon Blanc that - while he couldn’t read the date - appeared to have been stored precisely for quite some time…

Yeah.

Jesus.

He didn’t even want to know what that must have cost as Jake poured them both a glass before picking his own glass up.

“To you, Roo, for havin’ enough common sense to accept an offer from us,” the fucker’s toast started.

It needed some work.

(Seresin’s shit-eating grin hadn’t abated any, either, so it was a guarantee that he was well aware of that fact.)

He rolled his eyes, only slightly exasperated, and ignored the way Hangman clinked his glass without any hesitation.

“Well, darlin’,” ah, yep, and there came the tease. “Guess we’re eatin’ fish tonight, with your drink choice. Ain’t exactly my idea of a good first date, but I could be convinced.”

A salacious wink followed the vomit-inducing statement, and he was certain that he would have genuinely thrown up if he felt even slightly more at ease.

As it was, his stomach was still knotted.

He hadn’t exactly expected the pet name, even though he knew full well that it was just a joke.

Jake Seresin, in his time on stage, had gained something of a reputation for picking partners of a male variety - and a good many of them, too.

But those were just rumors, and he knew Seresin like he knew the back of his own hand.

That man was certainly playing up his reputation for laughs, regardless of whether or not there was any truth to it.

Instead, he forced himself to breathe, a slightly choked exhale that he hoped came off as mere excitement for his new job than anything.

“Please,” he returned. “As if you’d bring anyone here.”

A light in Seresin’s eyes told him there was another tease, so he cut it off at the pass.

“And if you have, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Jealous, Roo?” No. “Don’t be. You’re here, ain’t’cha?”

Couldn’t fault that brilliant logic.

[restinslices]

My Fandom Ocs

I was scrolling on tumblr and ended up seeing @mattmurdocksthighs (fantastic name btw) do this post showing off their ocs and I was like “I wanna do that” so here we are. No one asked for this but LISTEN- I don’t ONLY think about Mortal Kombat. And I’ll probably write about them at some point and get like, 2 cute lil like. I’ll keep updating this because my brain is always coughing up this shit. Their stories also got a lot of shit going on so I’m giving the very basic stuff so this shit ain’t too long. (Rereading this and the shit ended up long anyway). Last updated: 8/22/24

Jamie Kalivoda

Universe: Fear Street

Related to: Simon Kalivoda - Younger Brother

Sexuality: Unlabeled 

Love Interest: Ryan Torres (rip)

Faceclaim: Linda Cardellini

Summary: Jamie is Simon’s older sister and was dating Ryan Torres before the mall massacre. The leaves her deep in grief because Heather was also one of her best friends. She knows she should accept what’s happened, but she can’t help feeling that something is off since Ryan never seemed like he’d just “go crazy”. She is roped in with the main characters and tries to break the curse.

Cassiopia Lupin

Universe: Harry Potter

Related to: Remus Lupin - Dad. Polaris Lupin -  Fraternal Twin (it’s possible for twins to look this different. Look it up). Non canon mother

House: Hufflepuff 

Sexuality: Biromantic but Asexual

Love Interest: Harry or Neville 

Faceclaim: Adelaide Kane

Summary: She is the fraternal twin of Polaris and is sorted into Hufflepuff. Unlike her dad and sister, she’s actually not a werewolf (until some shit happens). Although she is the more protective and somewhat agitated twin, it comes from a place of never wanting her family to be hurt again. Her family sides with the golden trio and fight against the death eaters.

Polaris Lupin

Universe: Harry Potter

Related to: Remus Lupin - Dad. And before y’all ask, her mom is black but she’s not a cannon character so I’m not putting her here

House: Ravenclaw

Sexuality: Lesbian

Love interest: Bounces between Luna and Pansy cause she loves a lil bit of toxicity. She get it from Remus fr

Faceclaim: Chandler Kinney

Summary: In my version, Remus is gay. I know fans debate whether he’s bi or gay, in this version he’s gay. He’s in denial and ends up hooking up with a female witch, and while that confirmed that he had to face the hard reality of another thing about him being different, her ass must’ve been listening to Usher cause she said she was three months pregnant and she was keeping it (some of y’all enjoyed that more than others and I’m ok with this). At first he wanted nothing to do with this kid but came around to the idea, which was real convenient cause her mom got killed by her own family. Guess we locked in for life now. She has his werewolf gene and is trying her hardest to succeed in school to hopefully make their life better.

Aeavia Min

Universe: PJO

Cabin: 13 - Hades

Fatal Flaw: Holding grudges 

Sexuality: Bisexual

Love Interest: I ain’t think that far

Faceclaim: Park Gyu-young

Summary: Still a wip but essentially she is the twin sister of Mina Min. They are the secret forbidden children of Hades and know about it. They act as support for their fellow forbidden child Percy. Aeavia is named after the underworld judge Aeacus, which shows in her personality as she is less strict that her twin and believes that someone’s intentions matter the most and offers leeway when committing certain actions. She is also loyal to her family and fights alongside the Olympians.

Medora Montgomery

Universe: PJO

Cabin: 10 - Aphrodite 

Fatal Flaw: Recklessness 

Sexuality: Demisexual

Love interest: I ain’t think that far

Faceclaim: Cascina Caradonna

Summary: She’s still a wip but as of right now her story is that she is from a wealthy family and her father despises Aphrodite for what she’s done. Growing up her father talked horribly about Aphrodite and made it seem like she is nothing more than a “whore goddess” with no real significance. She also has experienced being over sexualized like many other girls and it always being her fault has been drilled into her head. When she is sent to camp and claimed by Aphrodite, she hates it. She doesn’t hate her cabin mates but she, like others, mistakenly believe that Aphrodite only represents sex and she blames her for all the sexualization she’s faced. She is desperate to prove that she can be more and throws herself into situations that are way too big for only her to handle. She has to figure out what Aphrodite means to her, how to love herself as she is, how to get her inner light back and has to learn how to recognize that she is a victim and that creeps exist. It is not her job to make sure they keep their comments and hands to themselves. 

Mina Min

Universe: PJO

Cabin: 13 - Hades

Fatal Flaw: Holding grudges

Sexuality: Lesbian

Love Interest: I ain’t think that far

Faceclaim: Park Gyu-young

Summary: Still a wip but essentially she is the twin sister of Aeavia Min. They are the secret forbidden children of Hades and know about it. They act as support for their fellow forbidden child Percy. Mina is named after the underworld judge Minos, which shows in her personality as she has a strict personality and believes in severe punishment for those who do wrong, regardless of their intentions. She is fiercely loyal to her family and fights alongside the Olympians (though she’s considered switching sides).

Kajsa Helvar

Universe: Six Of Crows

Related to: Matthias Helvar - Older Brother.

Sexuality: Lesbian

Love Interest: -

Faceclaim: Ivanna Sakhno

Summary: Kajsa is Matthias’s younger sister who is believed to be dead. She survived the village fire and was taken by Fjerdan officials to become an assassin (they got a bootleg Black Widow program. Shhhhh) for them since Druskelle take too long and are easily noticeable. After she finds out he’s alive, she leaves Fjerda and tracks him down but when she realizes his girlfriend is Grisha, she believes he’s being poisoned and wants to kill Nina. When Matthias refuses to let that happen, she thinks it’s too late and the only way to save his soul is to kill him. Will she succeed? Will they make up and undo her brainwashing? Who knows? Not me.

[1lostsoul0fishbowl]

I really wanted to have a WIP ready for Hellcheer anniversary week, but all I’ve got is a half finished outline that taunts me from my notes folder every time I open it up (to feverishly succumb to another bout of Eleverson brainrot). As an apology offering I present a piece I wrote last September called Right Side Up, which takes place about three days after Eddie escaped the Upside Down (because of course he did) and Vecna was defeated (because of course he was).

Chrissy wakes up.

For a moment, she doesn’t know where she is; she’s curled in an unfamiliar chair, covered in a slightly scratchy blanket, and somebody nearby is quietly crying like a child, soft little brokenhearted whimpers they’re clearly trying to suppress but which will not be held back.

Then she hears Wayne Munson’s quiet, disbelieving voice gasping “Eddie?” and everything comes flooding back. They’re in Eddie’s hospital room, Wayne sleeping on a little cot the nurses rolled in for him, Chrissy in a squeaky vinyl recliner tucked into the corner. They hadn’t left him alone for a second, though it had been almost two and a half days since his surgery and he’d been unconscious the entire time. Now it’s the middle of the night and her neck aches from sleeping in the chair but none of that matters one bit, because Eddie finally, finally woke up.

“Eddie, my boy.” Enough dim light spills in from the hallway that Chrissy can see Wayne get up from the cot and hurry over to sit on the bed next to Eddie, carefully gathering his weeping nephew into his arms. “Thank the lord. Oh, my boy.”

“W-Wayne?” Eddie buries his face in his uncle’s chest, his next words coming out muffled, but in the quiet of the room Chrissy can still make them out. “I m-missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, son. I was so worried about you.”

“Am I… am I…” Eddie falters. He sounds so weak. Breathless. “Arrested?”

“No. Don’t you worry about that,” Wayne soothes, his hand stroking through Eddie’s hair. “Some fella named Owens took care of all that, you don’t have to worry ‘bout police anymore.”

“I didn’t…” Chrissy can see Eddie’s eyes, huge and luminous with tears, pleading, fixed on his uncle’s face. “Didn’t k-k… I didn’t k-k-kill…”

Wayne flings his arms around Eddie again, nearly crushing the boy in his embrace. “I know that, baby, dontcha think I know that? I know you wouldn’t hurt anyone. Never thought for one second that any of that shit was true about you. I know you ain’t never hurt anyone.”

Eddie makes a sound, halfway between a sigh and a sob, of pure relief. “Didn’t k-k-kidnap… she needed… she needed…”

“Easy now, darlin’, take it easy, now. Everythin’s alright, we know you ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

For a moment, the silence is only broken by Eddie’s quiet sniffling and the starchy scritch of Wayne’s hand rubbing his back through his thin blue gown. Then Wayne speaks again, and Chrissy is surprised to hear a hint of laughter in his voice.

“As if I’d believe you’d do anything to hurt Chrissy Cunningham.”

Eddie groans. “Don’ make fun o’ me.”

“How many songs you write about that girl? Reckon you’re up to twenty, now?”

Chrissy just barely manages to stop herself from sitting bolt upright. Songs? Eddie’s written songs about her?! When could he possibly have done that?

“Stop it.” A pained grunt, as if it hurt when he shifted in the bed. “You heard… if… if she’s okay?”

Wayne laughs outright now, softly, but undeniable. “You’n ask her yourself in the mornin’, son, she’s sleepin’ right over yonder.”

“Wayne.” Eddie’s voice trembles. “Please stop.” A pained moan escapes him. “‘S’not funny.”

“I’m serious.”

“Don’t… don’t make fun…” A sob catches in his throat. “Please.”

“Ed, I swear, I ain’t makin’ fun of you. Chrissy is fine, and I swear to you she ain’t left this room since you got here. Damn near sick over you. She’ll be so happy to see you awake. I promise I ain’t lyin’.”

“No,” Eddie moans. “No. Not for me. M-mother won’t… let… let her…” His breath hitches. “Wayne?”

“Yeah?”

“Hurts.”

“What hurts, baby?”

“Here.”

“Lemme get the nurse. You had surgery, son, patchin’ up holes in your guts. They’n give you somethin’ for the pain.” He presses the call button, then resumes gently rubbing his nephew’s back. Chrissy can hear Eddie’s uneven breaths, too fast and too shallow, even with his face pressed into Wayne’s shoulder.

Neither of them speak again until a nurse has come in, injected the pain medicine and flushed it through with saline, and checked Eddie’s temperature and vital signs. She wishes them both a good night and reminds them not to hesitate to ring again if there’s anything they need. Chrissy smiles to herself, thankful for the nurse’s kindness.

“Was she…” Eddie’s voice is hesitant. “Chrissy… she’s really okay?”

“She’s fine, son. She’s just worried about you,” Wayne replies, but to Chrissy’s surprise, Eddie starts to cry again. “I was scared,” he sobs. “She needed… me to b-be brave… and I, and I w-w-wasn’t.”

“That ain’t how she tells it.” Wayne’s voice is so loving, so comfortingly warm. “She tol’ me you saved her life. Says you’re her hero. How d’you like that?”

“Sh-she did?”

“Now why’s that so hard to believe?”

Eddie sniffles. “You know why.”

Chrissy doesn’t know why, and she wants to. After how close they’ve grown over the last week, after everything they’ve been through together, why would Eddie think she’d have anything but wonderful things to say about him?

“Well, I can’t make you believe me.” Wayne gently eases Eddie back against the pillows as he speaks. “But that’s what she said. An’ she sat here holdin’ your hand n’lookin’ at you like you done hung the moon just for her.” He pulls the blanket up to Eddie’s chin. “An’ if I thought you’d be awake for more’n five more minutes I’d go get her up so’s she could tell you herself.”

“‘S’a nice story,” Eddie murmurs. “I like her.”

“I know you do, son.”

“She’s… en… enchanting.”

Chrissy feels her cheeks flush warm, her eyes fill with tears. Enchanting? None of her cheerleader friends ever called her anything besides ‘nice’ or ‘pretty’, empty clichés they all tossed meaninglessly at each other, and her ex hadn’t even bothered with that for longer than she cared to remember. It was so like Eddie to give her the best compliment she’d ever heard, when he didn’t even realize she’d heard it.

Wayne is chuckling again. “You be sure to tell her that in the morning.”

“Don’ laugh. She… Chrissy.” Eddie’s words are definitely slurred now; the pain medicine is rapidly making him drowsy. “Chrissy. She’s ‘mazing. Think I… love her.”

“I know you do, son,” Wayne repeats, barely louder than a whisper. He leans forward to smooth Eddie’s hair back from his face and gently kiss his forehead.

“You too,” Eddie murmurs. “Wayne. Love… Wayne.”

“I know, darlin’. I love you, too. Go to sleep, now.”

“You… stay?”

“Course I’ll stay. Got a bed for me right there. I won’t leave you.”

“‘Kay.” Eddie sighs deeply, then his breathing slows and Chrissy can tell he’s asleep.

Wayne stays seated at the side of his bed for a few more minutes before getting up. He stretches a little, his back cracking, then stoops to kiss his nephew’s forehead again before climbing back into his cot. In less than two minutes he’s softly snoring.

She slides from the recliner, slowly so it doesn’t squeak, and tiptoes across the room to Eddie’s bed. She slips in carefully next to him, making sure to avoid the iv line, and snuggles close, resting her head against his shoulder and one hand on his chest, right over his heart. His eyes don’t open, but his breath hitches and she can see his eyelashes flutter a bit. A moment later, his hand slides slowly up to cover hers.

Chrissy smiles, turning her hand to lace their fingers together. Eddie hums a small, contented sounding sigh from the back of his throat. His breathing deepens, slowing into the rhythm of sleep again, and moments later she follows him down.

[peaches2217]

how would the bros' royal lovers feel about their post-partum bodies? of course, we all know they'd find peach/peas to still be beautiful no matter what, but would there be a level of self-consciousness there? this is the most wholesome stuff and you're giving me fictional baby fever, too!

Anon, I am so glad you asked! (And welcome to the club! 🥳)

TW: Body dysmorphia and related topics

Peasley doesn’t care. He knows he’s hot shit, no matter what he looks like. He’d dramatically strip naked for Luigi and say some shit like “Behold! This is the body which grew and nurtured our child, divinity itself!” and Luigi would be like “Hell yeah :D ” If anything, Luigi might end up worrying about his own appearance, since he’s normally so well-groomed; he’d lament that his hair and mustache look untidy because he’s just too tired from late nights with the baby to put as much thought as normal into his appearance, and Peasley would assure him that he’s just as handsome now as always.

“I don’t look quite the same as I did this time last year either, you know,” says the guy who, objectively speaking, looks way worse for the wear, “yet I’m still the physical embodiment of perfection. You’re no different, my love.” Luigi is one of the few people Peasley thinks of more highly than himself; there’s very little room for bodily insecurity. 😂

Peach is another story. I headcanon that she has insecurities regarding her body image, though it’s less to do with maintaining a certain physique and more to do with wanting to be healthy and physically capable (y’know that long-ass fic I keep talking about that I’ve got in the works? That’ll be one of the topics it touches on!). She does get self-conscious about her body sometimes during pregnancy, but it’s easily rectified with love and reassurances! Postpartum… not so much.

For whatever reason, the last month of her pregnancy takes a lot out of her, more so than expected, and it takes a few months to really gain her strength and energy back. She spends several weeks more or less confined to her chambers because she’s so frail, and when she tries to go for walks to get some fresh air and exercise, she gets winded and has to go back inside in like half an hour’s time. And by Toadessa’s assessment, there’s nothing they can really do to expedite the healing process — she’s doing everything right and is perfectly healthy otherwise. Some people just take longer to bounce back, and that process is complicated by the energy and resources needed to care for a newborn. The best she can do is rest.

And her frustration with her slow healing process ends up manifesting as frustration with her body as a whole. Like most people postpartum, she’s dealing with extra weight and stretched and sagging skin, and that coupled with the exhaustion of a new parent makes her feel like she’s some sluggish, disgusting creature that’s loathsome to even look at. She keeps expecting to see some sign of it reflected in Mario’s face, a look of pity or maybe even disgust that confirms her suspicions.

It should go without saying that that never happens. Mario knows how she feels, because this has happened before in another context (enter my long-ass wip!), and he knows “You’re still beautiful and perfect and I love you and (respectfully) want you to suffocate me between your thighs” ain’t gonna cut it when she feels so intensely about her body. So what’s a guy to do? Well, he knows it’s less about her physique and more about her vitality, so he helps her in regaining it.

He finds energizing exercises that are postpartum friendly for her to try and then does them with her, or he’ll join her for her walks, or anything else that will naturally build her back up, because she’s much less apt to get discouraged and call it quits when he’s there. It doesn’t matter how much physical activity actually gets done or if they spend more time taking breaks than actually moving. He gets her laughing and talking and thinking about things other than how inadequate she feels, and he makes sure she only pushes herself as far as she can reasonably go, and by the time Peach willfully puts an end to their routines, she already feels a thousand times better. When she feeds and rocks their baby, she spends less time staring in disdain at her figure and questioning how well she can raise a child if she can’t even take care of herself and more time reveling in the joys of motherhood, feeling on top of the world once more, and it’s a welcome change for all involved.

But above all, Mario makes it clear that, whether she becomes the buffest MILF on the planet or whether she wakes up tomorrow and decides she’s perfectly happy with where she’s at right now, he’s going to think she’s beautiful. He doesn’t care what she looks like so long as she’s happy with herself.

“You think my stomach’s finally getting a little flatter?” she asks one night, contentedly flustered beneath his touch.

“I think you look more confident than you ever have,” he tells her.

“You’re dodging the question, Mario.”

“Nope!” He kisses the tip of her nose. “Just focusing on what really matters.”

With time, Peach comes to agree with his sentiment.

[1lostone]

Author interview

@myulalie tagged me and I’m pretty excited to do this.

1. How many works do you have on ao3:

219 I think a good bit of those are probably podfic, but I’m not mad about it. 

2. What's my total ao3 wc:

2,277,720. This is due to my need to write ridiculous wordmonsters.  

3. What are my top 5 fics by kudos:

Some of these are pretty old. Maybe I’m past my prime. :D 

Hey There Little Red (Teen Wolf)

Love The One You’re With (Star Trek AOS)

Nowhere Man (Teen Wolf) 

Five Times Stiles Needed A Crash Course On Wolfy Behavior And The One Time He Figured Shit Out. (Teen Wolf)

What The Moon Showed Me (Teen Wolf)

4. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes, always!  But sometimes it takes me awhile to remember. I tend to save them up and do a whole group at once. 

5. What fic has the angstiest ending?

Um. I’m not sure. Probably Little Lion Man- but it’s more ambiguous than angsty.  Still, my friend said she wanted to slap the green off Spock's cheeks, so ...

6. What fic has the happiest ending?

Weirdly, I think it’s It ain't easy to get to heaven (When you're goin' down) - the one I wrote about Aaron and Jesus from TWD.  I made them work for their happy ending. 

7. Do you write crossovers?

Sure. I write just about anything. 

8. Have you received hate on ao3?

Of course. Who hasn’t. 

9. Do you write smut?

Yep.

10. Have you had a fic get stolen?

YES AND I HATE IT A LOT.

11. Have you had a fic get translated?

Yes! 

12. Have you co-written a fic?

Sort of. The intentions were good and we decided it was best if we just stick to our own lanes :D 

13. What's your fav ship?

Lord.  I dip between ships like crazy. I don’t know if I have a favorite per se. 

14. What's a WIP you want to finish but never will?

SPICE. (I WILL FINISH I WILL!) 

15. What are my writing strengths?

Honestly, I’ve been so burnt out on writing lately I don’t know. I think I can tell a good story, and I’m good at resolving angst.  I think that's why I'm clinging to podficcing- I can still be a part of fandom, but idk. I need my writing mojo back.

16. What are my writing weaknesses?

It can take me 809012 words to describe a sneeze. I can also take myself too seriously. 

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages on ao3?

I have done it, but only with much help and handholding from people who actually speak that language. My 10 years of French 30 years ago would only annoy a native speaker. 

18. What's the first fandom you wrote for?

X-Files and CSI. I can’t remember which was first, it was a whole hot minute ago. 

19. What fandom/ship have you not written but want to?

UM. There are so many.  I’ve been in the Good Omens fandom since the book came out IN THE NINETIES but have never been brave enough to write anything. Maybe I can this year. . . 

20. What's your fav fic you've written?

Hmm.  It’s hard to pick one. Probably a tossup between Weep, Little Lionman, and in the bed where you lie. 

I’m always hesitant to tag people, but if any mutuals do this, tag me so I know you took it on! 

[queenofbaws]

ahhhhHHHHHH it's been a hot minute since i've stopped and done one of these, but i figured now's the time, huh??? a quick little update here on my end: i'm hoping to be finishing of mummy men & bathtub soup, my conrad manofmedan-centric ghost hunting fic, in the coming weeks, so everything else is likely to be running a little slower for the immediate future. it's one of a handful of wips i'm REALLY trying to wrap up before the guilt eats me alive, telltale heart style, M O S T L Y because i have so much stuff planned for the creepiverse that i'm just...bursting at the seams to get some sort of momentum going there, haha!!!

my weekends have also been a bit more chaotic than usual lately, between health crap and family crap, so once more, if you've sent me a flash fiction prompt recently that i haven't gotten to, i promise you'll see it filled one of these days 😭 just waiting for things to calm down a bit.

BUT HEY with all that in mind, i'm throwing a chunkier sneak-peek of like wringing blood from a stone here under the cut! never fear: i'm way too deep into hackett hyperfixation to NOT be working on it in the background, but until conrad's story comes to a close, hackett house will just be a littttttttle quieter than usual ;P

(as always, i hope you're all doing well out there, that you're being as nice to yourselves as you possibly can, and that YOUR creative endeavors are going well <3 you got this!!!)

He knew better to bring those questions to Constance; in his heart he suspected she would’ve known plenty and more about this bizarre side of things, but in nearly sixty years of marriage, all she’d ever willingly shared of her life before him was that the mother and grandmother who’d raised her up had been ‘ugly, witchety women,’ and not much else. Not ‘witchy,’ mind, not ‘wicked,’ not ‘wretched,’ but ‘witchety.’ That was as far as she’d be pressed on the subject, and he’d been raised to let sleeping dogs lie, so that was as far as he’d tried to press.

Jack, though. Jack you couldn’t get to shut up.

And he was more than a little witchety, himself. He hadn’t been able to make heads or tails of that word until the first time the Fiddlers had shown up on his doorstep—then it’d made perfect sense. Witchety. Yeah.

“I’m gonna ask you something.” Jed didn’t wait for him to react, instead sitting back in his own chair and rubbing tiredly at his stubble. “Figure I might as well, seein’ as how you’ve got an opinion on every other thing under the goddamn sun. You level with me now…this curse shit, it real?”

“Oh, it’s real. Real as the shirt on your back, I promise you that.”

He frowned. Not only was it the answer he’d least wanted to hear, but Jack hadn’t even paused to mull it over. That told him a great many things at once; very few of them good.

“Tell you something else, though,” Jack soldiered on. “Since you went and opened the door and all.” Then he did pause, looking down at the whiskey in his glass as he swirled it. After another couple seconds, he took a belt of it and set the glass back down. “People think of curses like a cold. Someone gives it to you, or it’s…I dunno, catching.” He shook his head. “But that ain’t right.”

He narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of it in his own head. “No?”

Jack shook his head again. “No. Curses are something you bring on yourself. If you’re cursed, well…that ain’t anybody’s fault but your own.”

Much as it pained him to do so, Jed held his gaze, dead eye and all. He wanted to see if he might backpedal, apologize for the slight when he realized what he’d said…but the only thing Jack did was take another drink of his whiskey.

“That don’t sit well with me.”

“Doesn’t have to. It’s the truth, Jed, and you know what they say about the truth. It shall set you free.”

“You understand you’re sittin’ in my house, telling me to my face that it’s—”

“Your own damn fault you’re up Shit Creek,” he finished for him. “Unfortunately, I am.”

“Now, you listen. Those kids were—”

Jack held both his hands up, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. “Helpin’ that boy. Uh huh. Yeah. I know. Six years I’ve been hearin’ about how helpful the pack is. Six fuckin’ years. And know what? That’s great. Real swell. And if I were a different man, maybe this is where I’d pat you on the shoulder and say somethin’ conciliatory. ‘No good deed goes unpunished,’ maybe. ‘There but for the grace of God go we.’ Only I’m not, and so you’re stuck what I’ve got to say. Which, if you hadn’t noticed, rarely runs on the side of consolation.” He took another breath, Jack, then sat forward with his arms on the table such that he could lean in. “They meant to help that boy, Jed. What they actually did was kill his whole family right in front of him.”

“Family,” he scoffed, leaning further back to show him what he thought of that one. “What family would that be? A truckful of carnies roaming town to town…that ain’t a fuckin’ family.”

Jack didn’t drop his gaze. “No? It ain’t? Huh. See—to me at least—sounds an awful lot like what you married yourself into.” He gave his glass another swirl. “An awful lot.”

[glycerineclown]

WIP Weekend - "the trouble we're in"

Joel smuggles condoms for use at a brothel in the Boston QZ. He gets his needs met on the side, and never has to feel anything, ever. 

We all know how that’ll turn out for him. Joel Miller/OFC, pre-canon.

Here's a sneak peek! Current word count: 17,168. Thanks @puddle--wonderful for the tag!

Her apartment is small, but Cameron’s done her best to keep it looking decent. Last winter she stripped off the peeling floral wallpaper and scrubbed the walls until they were as close to white as possible. She has an alarm clock that doubles as a CD player, and a full-size mattress, raised up on cement blocks in lieu of a bedframe. The bookshelf built into the wall is full to bursting with old paperbacks, stacks of overflow spilling onto the floor beside it. In the bathroom, there’s an old-fashioned washing board, and clothes hanging to dry on the shower rod.

She heats up leftover soup on the stove, and eats it with a slice of rosemary bread that she baked herself. For dessert, it’s half a snickerdoodle—they get all sorts of things as tips. One of her regulars likes to bring her fresh aloe from a plant he keeps at his place. Another pays for her to have lunch with him every other Monday. 

Joel Miller lives upstairs, so it’s easy enough for him to darken her door long after curfew, when most of the building is asleep. Cameron puts on a pot of tea when ten rolls around, and there’s a soft knocking as her cup is getting cool enough to drink.

Cameron cracks the door, and then swings it wide. “Hey, Red.”

Joel scowls, brushing past her into the apartment. “Told you to stop callin’ me that.”

Cameron sighs, and closes the door, flips the deadbolt. She was a junior in high school when the world ended. Old enough that she knows he’s seen Shawshank. “But you’re the man who knows how to get things.”

Joel takes his pack down from his shoulder. “That may be true, but I sure as shit ain’t Morgan Freeman.” He unsnaps the main pocket, and pulls out a box, handing it off to Cameron. “They’re from February.”

Block letters on the cardboard read, 350 count, large size, ultra thin, latex, lubricated—Marlene’s delivery of condoms, fresh from Atlanta, not expired. A separate order from what’s rationed to everyone else by the military.

Birth control pills haven’t been an option since six women in the Atlanta QZ suffered strokes. It’s not like the FDA is still around.

Joel stands up straight, and slings his bag back over one shoulder. He’s a lifesaver for this, but she’s learned not to lay that on too thick. Cameron sighs, peering up at his face. She just has a lamp on in the living room, but there are street lights outside her window, and it’s bright enough that she can see how dusty and exhausted he is. Smuggling makes ends meet after days of hard labor, so he’s broad and strong, too. 

The first time she met him—years ago, now, the fall after he moved in upstairs—she knocked on his door and sold him three onions. He’s always kept to himself. Before she started working for Marlene, the yearly crop constituted all the interaction they’d ever had.

Cameron blinks, and looks away. “I’ve got your payment. Have you eaten?”

Joel opens his mouth like he might refuse her, but then he shakes his head. “Whatcha got?”

“Soup and fresh bread.”

“Tomato?”

“Lentil. And I made ginger tea, but I’ve got whiskey, too. Take a load off.”

Cameron carries the box over to the bed, and bends to slide it under the mattress until tomorrow, before pulling out the bag of ration cards. When she returns, Joel is seated on her sofa, eyes half-open, legs spread wide. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s sucked his cock, but Joel looks about ready to pass out.

She tosses the bag onto the coffee table in front of him. “A hundred and ten. I’ll get you that soup.”