#jess writes

[notsocooljess]

“Whatever”

this is a little drabble/outtake for a fic that i’m currently working on but can’t really seem to find a place for it to fit in with the storyline.

katniss and peeta try to define their relationship a year after peeta returns back to district 12 following the war.

“Haymitch referred to me as your ‘whatever it is that I am’ today,” I say as I nestle my head into the center of Peeta’s chest, getting ready to sleep.

“Did he?” He asks as he wraps his arms around me, and I nod. He hesitates a moment before asking, “Well, what do you want to be?”

I furrow my brow and ask, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I could be your ‘friend,’” Peeta starts, and already I hear the teasing thick in his voice, “but I think we kiss and sleep in the same bed way too often for that one. I mean, how many friends do you know who share a house?” He looks at me with a grin, and I respond with an eye roll and a smile of my own.

“I could be your ‘boyfriend,’ but it feels like we’ve been through a little bit too much for that one, right?”

“Go on,” I say, never wanting him to stop talking when he’s able to run on with a joke like this.

“We could go with ‘partner,’ but it’s a bit too reminiscent of ‘ally’ for my taste,” he states, and I nod. There’s no further explanation needed.

“I could be your ‘husband.’ I mean, we both know more than half the country still thinks we’re already married, but I wouldn’t want that because,” he lowers his voice conspiratorially, “believe it or not, I have a keen ability to make really good bread, and I will be damned if people think I had a toasting without the perfect loaf,” he continues. At this point, I’m really laughing while he smiles down at me.

“Or, I could be your ‘lover,’ which might actually be the most accurate title.”

“Why, because we were ‘star-crossed lovers’?” I ask drolly.

“No, because ‘lovers’ implies we’re having a lot of sex.” In response, I smack his arm while he guffaws.

“Alright, alright,” he begins while wiping away his tears from laughing too hard, “well that’s all I can think of. You got anything?”

I look up at him. His blue eyes are shining brighter in the moonlight with the help of his happy tears, and as his eyes find mine again, an easy softness covers his features. He is perfect.

“So one day you’re gonna give me a toasting with the perfect loaf?” I ask. A smile spreads across his lips.

“The absolute best one. A perfect golden brown crust that’s crispy and buttery and herby. The inside will be nice and soft.”

“Will there be fruit and nuts?”

“If that’s what you want.”

I smile. “Then how about after that happens, you can be my husband. But until then, we know that I am yours and you are mine and we are whatever it is that we are.”

He smiles back at me, and I blush, because after a year of doing whatever it is that this is, I will never get used to how much I love it.

“I love you, my whatever,” he says, holding back a laugh as he goes to kiss me on the cheek.

“I love you, too, my whatever,” I say, unable to stifle my chuckle like he could his.

We hold each other close as the crisp autumn air fills the room. My eyes are just starting to drift closed when Peeta asks, “So, I guess this means ‘lovers’ is totally off the table then, right?”

[betterthanthemovies]

sapphic romance haul!!! 🥰

[dreaminginpencil]

Found this in my drafts and had forgotten to post it soooo...

This art is based on a twitter thread drabble I wrote about Steve and his soft toy Bunny and growing up in difficult situations and loving people that are sick the best that you can.

It's also posted in full on AO3 if you wanna support me there ❤️

(CW: depression and neglect of a child) Steve’s mom suffered with poor mental health and Steve didn’t understand. Eddie does too, and maybe Steve understands better now.

When Steve was small, his parents’ door was open a crack most of the time, the sweet grown-up scents of perfume and cologne drifting out. Their bedroom was a treasure trove of wonders, their expansive closet full of clothes that swished and slipped over his little fingers, his mom’s dressing table cluttered with ornate glass bottles of perfume, sweet-smelling waxy lipstick, and delicate compacts of powders, her silver-backed beautiful hairbrush. Sometimes his mom even brushed his hair like hers, til it gleamed, shiny and soft.

When the bedroom door was closed, Steve knew to knock first, knew he should probably wait and ask for their time later.

Sometimes though, sometimes his mother would shut the bedroom door and she would not leave the room for days. His father would sleep on the couch, or make excuses and go away on “business”.

There would be no sweet smells of perfume, only dark and silence. His father told him that his mom was sick, to let her rest. Steve didn’t understand why she didn’t want to see him. When he was sick, he wanted cuddles and toast and hot drinks with honey and his Bunny with one ear loved almost all the way off.

Steve would sit outside her door with his Bunny and wait. He would wait and wait and eventually when he was lonely and tired he would knock quietly and creep into her room.

With the heavy damask curtains drawn, it drowned the room in blue shadows, the looming frame of the four poster and it’s mounds of blankets piled up. Steve felt like he was climbing a mountain to find his mom amongst them all.

“Are you sick? Do you want toast?”

He would offer her his Bunny, cuddle close. She did not smell like perfume, just something stale and forgotten.

“Mommy’s tired Stevie.”

Sometimes she wouldn’t speak at all, just touch his hair. Sometimes she would tell him to leave her.

“Go and play Stevie.”

Steve didn’t know how to explain with her there was nobody to play with and that his father had gone away somewhere and he was hoping she would make him macaroni.

Steve learnt to get to the high up pantry shelves for snacks until his father got home, or til his mom stopped feeling tired.

She seemed more than tired, but what did he know?

The older Steve got, the more often his mom was tired. He learnt not to ask anymore, just to lie down with her, to be patient, to be sweet.

He learnt to bring her food, even if she would not eat it, to make her tea and open the curtains up. He learnt to coax her from bed and to her vanity, so he could brush the dark tangle of her hair until it gleamed and fell like silk down her back. He ran her hot baths and always gave her his Bunny.

When his parents started to go away and not come home, Steve wondered who took care of her. If his father still left her alone.

She would sound far far away when he called her. “I’m tired Stevie, we’ll speak soon.” The dial tone felt heavy.

Steve gets tired too, but there is nobody who will come to check on him, so he cannot sleep through it.

Eddie is like his mother was, sometimes.

After the Upside Down, after Vecna, Eddie is dogged by the shadow of consequence. They won, yes, they won, but Eddie is scarred and scared and sometimes he is very tired.

Steve knows how to take care of Eddie when he’s tired.

He can come to Eddie in his quietness, in his tangled unwashed sheets and his dark bedroom and he can offer, piece by piece, the things he knows.

He can kiss Eddie’s clammy forehead, his tangled hair, curl up with him and pay no heed to the mortification of dirty sheets for a while. He can crack the blinds and bring him his painkillers and water and coffee. He can coax Eddie to a shower, washing the sleep and the sadness from his skin. He can change his sheets, trade them for clean soft cotton and comfort.

When Eddie is clean and so tired again, Steve can brush his long hair until it’s free from tangles and falls long and dark down his back.

Sometimes Eddie needs time to be tired, but Steve can care for him still, with quiet affection and patience.

Eddie may need time, sometimes, but he never entirely closes the door to shut Steve out.

[jesslockwood]

Detecting the Haunted Masterlist 

Chapter Three

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing(s): Anthony Lockwood x Detective!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

A/n: hello friends! I'm sorry I haven't posted in forever!!! its going to be a busy summer for me as its my last year in my acting program, and I have professional Shakespeare shows coming up (auditions and rehearsals) soon. I really hope to be active but im not sure how active I will be but I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Add yourself to the Taglist

In all of Anthony’s life, he wanted people to love him. He wasn’t sure why but the praise of others and the showering of adoration towards him just gave him the feeling of being loved. Maybe it was because that’s what his life was missing, love. 

The current problem with wanting to be even just admired, was that you wouldn’t speak to him, unless absolutely necessary or with someone else in the room. He couldn’t pin point what had changed, but it put him in a grouchy mood. 

He had even snapped at George and Lucy at one point, because of it, which he felt bad about.

He just couldn’t understand why you would all of a sudden you just seem to loathe the mere presence of him. 

That was until he saw you having a conversation with none other than Quill Kipps in the library. That made Lockwood want to explode. He did his best to keep his composure, but how could he? Especially when someone he cared for was talking to his rival. 

You had laughed at something he said, before Anthony made his way over. 

“Tony! I see you have a new agent in training on your hands.” Kipps seemingly tries to antagonize him, “I thought you had enough troubles trying to keep your agency afloat, Being such a small and insignificant one.” 

Lockwood grits his teeth, and his fist goes into a ball, clenching it so tightly. 

“Anyway, my offer still stands.” He says directed towards Y/n in a overly confident tone before making his leave.

Anthony tightens his jaw even more if that was even possible to do so.

You shake your head while smiling, as Kipps leaves and Anthony notices. 

“When’d you get so chummy with Kipps?” He asks with an intensity that you can only describe as uncomfortable.

You ignore his prompted stare down, and shift over a book, and open it to start your next reading.

He keeps staring waiting for you answer.

“When did you get so controlling with who I talk to? Last time I checked you were my boss, not my boyfriend.” You say not even meeting his gaze, ignoring the way saying boyfriend made your body tingle.

He looks genuinely shocked, and hurt, when you spew the words with venom at him, wth a fiery anger, but you had to hate him, or else you’d hate everyone else around you. The problem was that hating everyone wasn't an option you wanted to explore, so your anger had to be directed towards Anthony Lockwood. That was or else it would consume you.

George walks towards the two, carefully, as if he could be the detonator to explode one of the two colleges of his on each other.

“I uh, found the paper in the archives we were looking for, Y/n.” He says before carefully setting it down on the table the two of you were working at.

George had noticed the tension in the house between Lockwood and Y/n, he knew Lucy could feel it too, as she kept trying to get Lockwood and Y/n to avoid each other as much as possible as she tried to figure out what triggered all this, for lack of a better term, teenage angst in the house. 

Well it felt like more than just teenage angst. It felt like a rage radiating off of the two directed towards each other, as if they were two old miserable manifestations bickering like an old couple while trying to murder everyone in the way that ticked them off.

Yeah that was more of the level of tension that was going on, especially when Lucy or himself got caught in the crossfire of the two. He actually didn’t hate Y/n, he had gotten to tolerate her during their times in the archives, but he couldn’t get a good reading of why she acted the way she did towards them, but mostly Lockwood. He was so curious of what was making her tick, or ticked off, pun intended.

Even Lockwood was making things feel off. He had been pissed almost every single day these past couple of weeks, and had even bursted with anger towards himself and Lucy.

George started to think of all the ways he could figure out what was wrong, and deiced to let Lucy in on his plot when he got home, to figure out what the hell these two had tasted to be so bitter to everyone.

George had come out of dreamland to find Y/n and Lockwood bickering.

“At least I talked to someone who wasn’t a stuck up prick for once!” Y/n almost yells.

“I think you’ve got it all wrong, love, you did talk to the stuck up prick, he just left with what’s left of his dignity, from the last time he was here!” Lockwood raises her one.

“Guys, Guys!” Lucy comes rushing In to break it up, “Maybe let’s try to not get kicked out of the archives? Y/n let’s uh, go get lunch, there’s this place I've been meaning to take you to.” 

Y/n gives Anthony one last glare before, picking up her jacket and heading out with Lucy.

“Well, that was awkward…” George mumbles faintly, before giving Lockwood a disappointed look before getting back to work.

“Urgh! He such a pompous ass!” You rant to Lucy, in between shoving pizza in your mouth. 

“Lockwood can be… selfish. But it’s really more because he wants the us and the whole agency to benefit… trust me I know it all too well.” She tries to console you, and you can see the genuine hurt in her eyes from it. 

If he could hurt Lucy, and get others hurt, even killed… who knows what the guy could do to you. Maybe the Job Kipps offered you wasn’t such a bad idea. 

It especially felt good to know it would make Lockwood infuriated. Maybe this was a chance to get a back at Lockwood a bit. Not to the degree you wanted, but it was something.

You make small talk with Lucy while eating, coming up with a plan in your head of how to piss him off the most.

To say Lockwood was pissed was a total understatement. He was enraged.

George and Lucy even seemed to tiptoed around Lockwood as of recently, and Lockwood felt nothing but isolated, and that led him to be able to sit and stew in his anger even longer. 

The both of you seemed to avoid each other physically, which made Lockwood all the more furious. The only time you’d see each other was for training, which George and Lucy had taken over most of that, and cases.

Today you had to train with your rapier again, and that was the main thing Lockwood oversaw.

“C’mon again!” He yells, as you missed one of the practice targets. 

You glare daggers into his direction, as he seemly does the same. 

“I would be a lot better if I didn’t have the constant screaming in my ear.” You mumble sarcastically.

“Sorry, I didn’t get that? Maybe you could actually try this time?” He says before smirking and leaning back to where he was sitting seeming satisfied with ticking you off.

“I’d like to see you do better.” You taunt stalking towards him, “The best I’ve seen in action was the Fittes team at a case I was working.”

He clenches his jaw, looking at you with an intense fire behind his eyes. 

“You’re more show than skill.” You smirk as his face turns even more sour. He gets up and moves right into your personal space. 

“Really? If you think I’m all show, then lets put it to the test, Love.” He pulls his rapier out and backs you into the wall.

You visibly gulp, not because of his challenge, but the sheer proximity of how close his face was to yours. 

He stares into your eyes, with his full of an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint. He had a anger but there was something else behind it. 

He shakes his head and scoffs, turning around walking away.

That made your whole body burn with fury. You knew he was one of the best from stories you had heard, but boy did that make you want to try harder to be better. 

“Like I said, all show.” You mumble loud enough for him to hear. 

He stops on the spot, turning around about to say something, and before he can Lucy is running down the stairs with a small stack of letters in her hand. 

“Hey, Y/n You’ve got mail.” 

You give Lockwood a victory smirk, and he gives you a glare saying ‘this isn’t over’.

“Thanks, Lucy.” You take the mail form her, before looking it over, until stopping on one letter in particular. 

“Crap…” you mumble to yourself, opening it quickly. 

Lockwood and Lucy seem intrigued to know what had gotten the rise out of you.

You skim over the letter, or well, the invitation. Your grandparents wanted to see you, and you knew that they rarely did unless it had to do with their agenda. 

You started to feel ill, hoping it was you actually getting sick to get out of it, instead of the idea of visiting them. 

“What is it?” Lockwood asks slightly worried as you lean to grab the wall. 

You want to throw the letter out, but you hand it to Lucy, “You can read it amongst yourselves, if you wish, Especially since I think I’m going to need you to accompany me.”

They give each other a look, as you head upstairs and They both follow you up quickly, if not seconds later. 

George seems intrigued to what is going on, and comes out of the sitting room area, with his usual cleaning gear on, and duster in his hand. 

Lucy starts reading aloud, “Y/n Y/l/n and Lockwood & co, You are formally invited to The Saunders Ball, this Friday. Please wear formal wear and please arrive early to meet and dine with The Saunders.”

“How in the bloody hell do you know the Saunders?!” Lockwood almost yells.

George pipes up, “And why would one of the oldest of richest families in London want dinner with with us?”

“Blood Relation, to me, unfortunately.” You say, wishing this wasn’t their reaction. 

Lucy and Lockwood sit there with their mouths ajar, while George looks like he’s going through every probability in his mind.

“Look, there’s no need to come. I can face my grandparents myself-“

“There’s no way were passing this up. It’s an opportunity for the company to find more clients.” Lockwood pipes up.

Your jaw clenches as try you to smile to pretend to be pleased that he wants to come. 

“Great. does everyone have formal wear? Or do we have to go shopping?”

Lucy shakes her head no, and you give a light smile, before grabbing her hand.

“Let’s go then, my treat.” You say before running out the door with Lucy. 

Lockwood gives one last glance at the door, before standing up.

“C’mon George, Lets go find out all we can about the Saunders.”

Lockwood wouldn’t try to dive into your history if he could help it, but he needed to know anything he could about who’s doors he was about to step into and how to best be prepared to gain new clients. 

Lucy had told you a bit about her past life, how she didn’t come from much, and her old employer, and briefly what happened to her best friend Norrie.

“Hey Lu?” You grab her attention with the nickname you called her in your nightly talks, “Im sorry.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, looking directly at you as you walked down the street of the shops. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about all this. It’s something my Mum left in the past when she left home from my grandparents. I’ve never really lived rich my mother just came from money.” You sigh as you continue to explain, “We really lived off of my Dad’s pay, and my mother worked part time in a flower shop. It- it’s not really important what they did. But my grandparents- well they only ever summon me if they want something.”

Lucy gives a sympathetic look, with almost an understanding. 

“My grandparents hated my dad, because the took their only daughter away, to live a ‘life of poverty’ and my dad, ‘he couldn’t provide’. Ah, it’s so messed up! Then my parents had me, and all they ever wanted was me to become their ‘Perfect grandchild of the Saunders’ but I never was that, or could be that.” You ramble it all out.

“I’m sorry y/n” she replies, “For all that family rubbish. I- I know the struggle of family too well.” She mentions with an understanding you’ve never felt. 

You felt so heard. You felt so seen even though your pasts couldn’t have been more different. It was so touching.

“Thank you. For being my friend.” You blurt out, as she gives you a genuine smile. 

“C’mon let's check out this shop!” You say while dragging her in and you both giggle. 

Lockwood was tapping his fingers against the table. He was getting George to pull article after article about your grandparents. After Fairfax, Lockwood couldn’t just walk into this blindly, especially at the reaction that Y/n had at the mere invitation of dinner with them. 

The archives seemed to have little to no information so far, other than that they were old money for being a huge lavender supply over the years and that they had a similar social circle to Fairfax; rich and socialites. Their only link to each other was Marissa Fittes and Penelope Fittes.

Lockwood sighed, as he hoped this wouldn’t turn into another Fairfax situation. At this point in time, he didn’t think he could really trust y/n anymore. 

But maybe that was the problem between himself and y/n, that she couldn’t trust him. He never had thought about it that way. He had told Lucy and George about his past, but not y/n, so maybe that’s why she didn’t share much about herself. 

Maybe it was time Lockwood let himself go of this rampant disease of the feeling of resentment. At least to a small degree, just so they all could survive dinner and the ball with one of London's most powerful and influential families. 

It was finally the day to head to dinner and the ball with your grandparents, and you were just pretending to have it all together, but underneath you were an earthquake of nerves waiting to start to rumble. 

You were curling Lucy’s hair with an curling iron, trying to distract yourself from the whole situation. 

“That’s a beautiful necklace you have on.” You mention breaking the almost silence as the record player played a soft tune in the back of the room.

She grabs it, fiddling with it, “Thanks, Lockwood gave it to me, for the Fittes ball.” You freeze for a second, trying to hold your face still in the same way it was. 

You were partly shocked she even mentioned it, because that was the night your father had died at the hands of him.  You were Devastated but wasn’t the only emotion you were feeling, you couldn’t help but feel a pang in your chest when she said Lockwood gave it to her. You hated yourself even more for falling into this trap of his charms. 

You were trying to hold a small smile, ads you finished Lucy’s hair. Your eyes started to water slightly, and as you tried to hold your tears in, there was a knock at the door. 

“Luce, Y/n, are you two ready yet?” Lockwood asks from the other side.

“You’re done Lu.” You say before turning around before the tears started to come out and started to go get your dress on. 

“I’m coming out, Y/n just has to put her dress on.” Lucy explains.

“Okay.” He repsonds.

Lucy slips out, and you here her shoes click against the stairs as she walks down. 

You wipe away your tears and start to pull your dress on before hearing your name being called.

 “Y/n?” 

“Yes Lockwood?” You reply.

You start to struggled with he zipper on your dress, as Lockwood starts to speak, “I just wanted to say that I’m- Y/n/n are you okay?” He asks as you made a loud sound as you crashed into the vanity. 

“Uh yeah I just can’t- I can’t get this stupid zipper.” You sigh in defeat, “Can you come in and help me?”

“Yeah, of course.” He says as he opens the door. His breath is taken away as If his lungs were ghost touched. You were leaning against the vanity, with a beautiful red dress on. 

“I know it’s pathetic but that the last case we had this week hurt my shoulder, so you don’t have to say it.” You mention looking away, before meeting his gaze. 

Was he… admiring you? You couldn’t tell for the few seconds he looked at you, before his expression changed as he moved towards you.

“It was my fault, on that case. I should have prepared you more so don’t worry about it. I’m just glad the dresser that hit you in the shoulder didn’t hurt you more.” He said, “That was quick moving, your getting out of the way before it squashed you.“ 

That was almost a compliment and an admittance of fault. What was going on with him? He motions for you to turn around and you do. As he moves your hair out of the way, a shiver runs down your spine, and goose bumps arise on your skin. 

You try to distract yourself at the feeling of his close proximity to you by cracking a joke, “Yeah well, now I can’t zip myself up, or get out of this stupid gown. Thank you Grandma and Grandpa for this choice of attire I truly adore feeling trapped.” 

He laughs a small almost silent laugh, as he grabs the zipper and slowly zips it up. It was agonizingly slow. You couldn’t tell if he was doing this to spite you, or because he was feeling the same weird feelings that you were. 

You shook off the second thought, it had to be to make you uncomfortable. You couldn’t have second thoughts on this no matter how warm it made your body feel. 

You swear you heard him take a shaky breath in before he finished and you turned to face him. You were really close to his face, and you could see the way his eyes looked almost puppy dog like. His eyes trailed your whole face for a few seconds before he took a small step back.

“Shall we?” He extended his arm, before you both descended the stairs, heading out to the car to take you to the infamous Saunders ball. You only hoped that your grandparents didn’t pull some bullshit like they usually did with you. 

You had no idea what was in store for you and your team, and that’s what was killing you. The not knowing.

Taglist:

@waitingforthesunrise @sleep-i-ness @rinisfruity14 @uku-lelevillain

[fandom-scatteredthoughtsonpaper]

You Have to Say It

Levi x MC

POV: Second | Pronouns: You

Tags: 18+, blowjob, teasing, dirty talk, consensual but with light dubcon tones

Licking the sensitive slit, the salty taste smeared across your tongue and the strong flavor permeated into your nose in heavy doses. You could feel his body trembling and his hips trying to thrust upwards while your arm kept them pinned down. For as much as he squirming and moaning out half-hearted objections, he sure was trying to ram himself into your throat.

Putting your lips around his cock, you aggressively tongued the slit long enough to feel the convulsion and high-pitched surprised whine that his body reacted with. You stroked him with your tongue, pressing the head of his dick against the soft insides of your cheeks and against the ridges of the top of your mouth. Stimulation and wetness were your focus on making him absolutely writhe in capped pleasure.

A tempting thought of pushing him to the back of your throat and letting the spasms of your barely existing gag reflex add to his experience almost compelled you to act on it, but you, reluctantly, dismissed it for later. This was a teaser and not the full experience until you heard him say he wanted it himself. You knew how sensitive he was, and you had no intentions to ruin the fun because you had no impulse control.

Slowly, agonizingly, and patiently, you dragged out the motion of sucking him off. You kept the pressure of your mouth around his shaft, dragging your tongue against it, before consciously making a loud, wet popping noise at the tip. Giving a cooling space between the dick in your saliva and pre-cum-coated hand and your mouth, you smugly smirked up at him, very aware of the dribble on your chin and the obscene sight you must be. His eyes were teary and wet, and they were focused on you — pleading, anticipating, wanting.

Fuck, it was almost too hot.

"You know, for someone crying and telling me to stop, the fingers tugging at my hair and the look of disappointment on your face from me stopping, instead of relief, is giving me the impression you do want me to continue. If you want my mouth back on you," you gave a soft but firm squeeze for emphasis, which elicited a gaspy, almost squeaky moan from him, "then you have to tell me you want it, Levi."

As you waited for a response, you gave short, loose, and uninterested strokes to irritate him and to continue the sexual frustration, and you gauged him under a playful, cocky stare. His eyes were a swirl of emotions — desperation, neediness, annoyance, hesitation, contemplation. A few tears finally streaked down his heated red cheeks, and you felt your smile stretch into a superior grin as he slowly nodded his head.

"You have to say it."

[gracegrove]

TW 70s era use of the word "queer"

Neil Hargrove doing a very working-class thing by volun-telling Billy that he will be spending his summer as a 14-year-old doing hard manual labor on a job site with some random ass uncle he didn't even know he had until one morning over dry Cheerios.

Neil drops him off at Uncle Matt's in Anaheim with a backpack and a duffel bag. See ya in September. "Don't cause your uncle any trouble," he warned with a thick grip on the shoulder before he took off for the interstate.

Billy stared at the man with hard eyes, his arms crossed in defiance. "You're not my real Uncle..."

The man chortled, ash sprinkling from the thick cigar chomped in his teeth. "Ya think so, tough guy?" He chuckled some more, waving for Billy to come inside.

Uncle Matt was a large man, as wide as he was tall. The furniture groaned when he sat down, casually kicking off his work boots and shrugging out of his suspenders as he picked up the can of beer from the side table.

"So Willy..." "It's Billy." Uncle Matt gave him a toothy grin. "Billy," he corrected, "Ya ever work a day in yer life?"

Billy sat on the corner of the couch, as the man took a long sip from his Coors. "Kinda. I mow lawns n' stuff."

Matt chuckled, "Ya ain't gonna be mowing no fucking lawns here! This is gonna be hardass work kid. Best get some sleep now..."

Billy rolled his eyes and headed off to the bedroom he was given.

After the first month, Billy and Uncle Matt fell into a routine. Matt's wind-up alarm clock was grating and shrill enough to wake Billy before Matt got two extra snores in at sunrise. The pair shared toast, eggs, and Folger's instant before heading out to the job site.

Billy's hands had gotten rough and calloused. Blistered and scabbed over more times than he could count.

"Hey Billy!" Matt called out over the ending shift horn. Billy slung the hammer in his grip onto the loop of his jeans and began climbing down the ladder. "Yah?"

"We're gonna have some company over tonight for dinner. My bookkeeper, Dan. So play nice." Billy smiled wryly. "I always play nice."

Things seemed a bit odd when dinnertime began rolling around. Uncle Matt was combing and carefully parting his hair in the mirror and was that the stench of aftershave on his beard?

Also for the first time in his life, Billy discovered what a tablecloth looked like as Matt carefully smoothed it across the dining room table. Billy crinkled his nose in suspicion, "Dan's a woman."

Matt barked out a laughed. "You're a hoot kid! Wait till Dan hears that!"

The doorbell rang and Matt stood up straight, smoothing his shirt. "Billy, can you set the plates out while I get the door?" Billy squinted at him, as the man hurried out of the room.

Peeking his head around the corner Billy snuck a glance at their guest.

Dan was not what Billy was expecting and he certainly wasn't a woman either. Dan was an average man of average height. He had shaggy brown hair and a thick mustache to boot. His face was set with round thick-rimmed glasses. What was so special about Dan that they had to have dinner with him?

The men hugged at the door, the embrace uncharacteristic of how Billy believed men should act around each other. They regarded each other warmly. "I'm so glad you came," Matt said quietly. "Me too. I've missed you."

Scurrying back, Billy quickly set the table and sat down, his heart thundering. He suddenly felt like he shouldn't be here. Like he was now a part of a horrible secret.

"Billy, this is Dan." Matt introduced as they entered the room. Billy awkwardly rose from his chair, weakly shaking his hand. "H-hey."

"Why don't you two have a seat and I'll fetch the chow, huh?" Matt said happily, a hand on Dan's shoulder.

"Oh, I'll help!" Billy forcibly stated, rushing into the kitchen.

Matt raised an eyebrow, "Ok..."

In the kitchen, Billy was nervously wringing his hands around a hot pad as Matt entered. "Are you a queer?" he blurted out, regretting it in an instant.

Matt set down the crockery he had set to take in. "I am Billy. Does that make you uncomfortable?"

Billy twisted the hot pad back and forth in his hands, "I... – I don't know. It's like..." He was struggling, his nose scrunching and his eyes watering up. "You're... you're not supposed to."

Uncle Matt ripped a paper towel off the rack and handed it to Billy. "It's okay tough guy, you don't gotta figure it all out right now. If you wanna have dinner in your room you can."

Billy shook his head, blowing his nose loudly. "But you made all this, and... you're real nice, and... –"

"... a damned queer." Matt added with a deadpan delivery. "Just don't tell your father, he'd have a heart attack."

Billy laughed.

"Now c'mon. Chow's gettin' cold."

[slagginbitch]

scenario:

through the unmedicated adhd haze i manage to post one fic a year. i check kudos and hits obsessively for a few days and then try to put it out of my mind. mostly. sometimes i succeed.

one day in my email i see i've gotten a comment that isn't from a close friend. i break out in a cold sweat, hoping they liked it but telling myself not to take it too hard if they didn't.

with trepidation i navigate to ao3

and find one of the sweetest comments i've ever received.

it makes me day. my week. maybe even my month. i'm going to reread this comment anytime i need a pick-me-up.

while replying i try not to cry. i feel revived.

[frostbeees]

will you know me?

2023 wrappedmas day four • song: Georgia by Phoebe Bridgers

ao3 · masterpost

Nolan hasn’t seen or talked to Nick since that night almost ten years ago now.

As Nolan’s driving down the winding Michigan backroads, he thinks maybe this was a mistake. He gets the invite every year, the annual friends and family weekend at the Hughes’ Lakehouse, and for the past ten years, he’s either made up some bullshit excuse not to go or he’s been out of the country. It’s worked for him. He hasn’t had to see any of the bridges he’s burned or the broken hearts he left behind. And he’s especially been able to avoid the one person that both of those things apply to. 

But the thing is he’s grown. Or at least he thinks so. He probably hasn’t. He’s probably the same ol’ shithead that he’s been since he hit puberty all those years ago. But he’s definitely not the same fuckup who decided to “confess his love” to his best friend on the night of said best friend’s wedding so that has to count for something. 

And even if he was, he’s past that. Nolan hasn’t seen or talked to Nick since that night almost ten years ago now. He deleted all of his social media, blocked numbers in his phone, got right with God (and then decided fuck that specifically), and figured his shit out. He just never got to the "making amends" part of it all, which maybe in hindsight is why he should have ignored the invite once again.

He finally gets to the house and navigates the sprawling driveway littered with other parked cars both shiny and new, probably belonging to the guys still in the show, and others more like his, dented and chipped paint, guys who clearly couldn’t hang with the big dogs. He finds an open spot and parks his truck, turns it off, and takes a few minutes to do the breathing exercises his therapist taught him. They don’t really do the trick this time as anxiety still simmers beneath his skin but he did them more for the routine of it than anything else. 

It’s easier once he’s inside, familiar faces lighting up when they see him. Daps all around. Nolan comes across quite a few unfamiliar faces as well as he makes his way through the entryway and into the rest of the house. A couple of kids even -for fuck's sake he's old- just little tykes darting between the legs of innocent bystanders. He has no idea who they belong to but they look suspiciously like even littler Hugheses (not surprising) except for the little girl with dark, thick hair and high cheekbones that are a familiar blotchy red color from exertion. 

Nolan makes small talk with the Duke boys and Luke who are all posted up in the kitchen. They thankfully hand him a beer without him asking and he throws a salute back their way as he sneaks out the backdoor and onto the deck. 

He’s not admitting defeat yet but it is quieter out here, less overstimulating. Nolan’s stopped to talk to Zegras and Drysdale, still somehow attached at the hip even after being separated in a nasty trade deal. He’s always liked Z. He’s insane, mind still moving a mile a millisecond but he also knows how to bring a person down which is a relief. They move on eventually, Z claiming the need to find food to "keep Jimmy happy or else". He doesn’t elaborate on what the ‘or else’ means though.

Nolan’s alone for the first time since arriving at the party and he takes a minute to just lean over the railing, beer dangling in his fingers as he takes in the lake behind the house. The ambient noise of the boats on the water and the people at the party is enough to distract him from a body sidling up against him and when he glances over, he’s shocked, to say the least.  

“Long time, no see sport,” Nick says, voice careful and flat even if his face is as cheery as ever. And he’s right. It’s been a long time. 

“Hey chief,” Nolan replies, just like their old script went. 

They spend the evening catching up, eventually moving from the deck railing to some Adirondack chairs down on the beach. They occasionally get interrupted by a stray kid running down the shoreline to show off whatever gross thing they found in the water or one of the dogs bringing them a ball to toss. But they hit all the basics. Nick’s injury that finally made him retire, his new job in Columbus teaching youth hockey. Nolan’s retirement after a year of bouncing around teams that didn’t really want him, bumming around his hometown much to the dismay of his parents. They dance around the obvious subject until the sun starts to set and Nolan’s had enough beer to give him a nice, confident buzz.

“So how’s Ken–,” Nolan glances down at Nick’s ring finger which he’s now realizing is startling bare. Not even a tan line to indicate recent wearing of a ring. “Oh.”

“Ah yeah,” Nick says with a stretch. “Kendra moved out a couple of years ago now. Took the dog and left a note saying something about me never really loving her or whatever. She was probably right. Hard to love someone when you’re not over someone else.”

Nolan gives an understanding hum but Nick keeps going. “What about you? You manage to settle down with someone?”

“Nah.” The old Nolan would make some sort of joke, something about not wanting to be tied down, needing to be free. The new Nolan is different, apparently. “Hard to do when you want someone you can’t have.”

When he finally looks away from the water, Nick’s looking up at him with the most earnest expression, which is saying a lot for a man who could get mixed up with a sad puppy in a lineup. He’s not really sure what to do with it so he does the next best thing.

“You wanna?” Nolan waggles his eyebrows, making his intent super clear. He nods towards the shed down by the water. “For old time's sake?”

Nick’s quiet for a few minutes. Which– Isn’t a no, but also isn’t a yes to Nolan’s proposition.

“What if we try something new?” Nick asks and Nolan is confused. They’ve done basically everything from drunken blowies in a frat basement to sweet, drawn-out morning sex. There’s nothing sexual they didn’t check off the list in college. And anything they haven’t managed to try definitely can’t be done in a shitty shed. “Let me take you on a date? A real date.”

Nolan huffs out a laugh mostly out of surprise but also to cover up whatever his face must be doing right now. 

“Yeah, okay old man. Let’s do it right this time.”

[jrooc]

Final Chapter Live - Staring at The Sun

The final chapter of my canon-divergent story SATS is live on a03. Just a simple story filled with some fluff, angst and smut.

Start from the beginning here. 🥇

Read the Epilogue here. 🎬

Or just listen to the playlist 🎶

Thanks to my beta @bawlbrayker for all the support ❤️

Summary: It's 8 months after Ian and Mickey got back together. They're happy. Or are they? Relationships are falling a part around them and someone new in their lives creates problems and stirs up old trauma.

*This is a follow up to my other story but you don't have to read it to follow along.

** Also for all my Debbie stans out there - there's a Debbie storyline fix-it in here too

[notsocooljess]

Double Date

finally wrote the drabble i’ve been trying to write for weeks based on this reddit post discovered by @rainymyx in this post. i had so much fun writing this!

i want to continue to add to this based on the original reddit poster’s updates, so we’ll see!

read this on ao3 here

“What can I say? College football days should always be the best days of a man’s life. Now your best days can be listening to me talk about them.”

Ugh. Katniss huffed out a puff of air as she listened to Cato speak. An hour ago, she had been so excited for this date. They were texting for the past two weeks, and their conversation was easy and funny and, most importantly, normal. Now in person, his vibe was totally different than who he portrayed himself as online. Now, he was a thirty-year-old man who wouldn’t stop talking to her about his glory days from ten years ago and the “boozing, blinkers, and babes” that came with them.

After only receiving their appetizers and a single drink, Katniss knew she couldn’t stick around. The thought of having to hear Cato talk about another frat party he attended before The Force Awakens was released was nearly enough to bring her to tears. Desperate, Katniss did what she always did in trying times like these: text Johanna.

“Katniss! Katniss! I need your help, quick!” Johanna’s voice rang through her phone not even a minute later. Her ability to sound like she was truly in agony was as impressive as always.

“Johanna!? What’s going on?” Katniss responded, hoping her acting was, for the first time in her life, passable.

“It’s the baby! I need you here now!” her childless, non-babysitting, kid-hating friend shouted before quickly hanging up.

Katniss darted her eyes to Cato’s, and his brows were knit tightly as if he were trying to to put together the pieces of the conversation that just transpired.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure if you heard. My friend really needs me. She needs help with her… baby. I hate to cut this short, but,” she didn’t finish her sentence as she slipped on her coat. She shuffled through her bag and retrieved a twenty-dollar bill, smacking it on the table.

“Oh, yeah, it’s cool. You still wanna meet up at my place later, right? I have the best surprise waiting for you,” Cato responded while wagging his eyebrows, seemingly uncaring about her fabricated dire emergency or the quality of their date at all. This only irritated Katniss more. Her friend’s fake baby was in trouble, and all he cared about was getting laid!

“Uh… yeah, no. Definitely not. Let’s just forget about this, okay? Have the night you deserve,” Katniss practically snarled as she fled the restaurant.

Once she was in her car, she peeled out of the parking lot and quickly went around the block, looking for a place to park so she could call Johanna. She found a spot located outside of a small pub and dialed her friend.

“How was I this time? I feel like I’m really perfecting my blood-curdling shrillness. What do you say? Any pointers?” Johanna asked as soon as she answered the phone.

Katniss wanted to laugh, but now that the situation was over, she felt defeated. She actually had high hopes for this date, but she again found herself needing to bail.

At twenty-eight, Katniss finally felt ready to do things for herself. Before this, there was never the time. She was raising her sister Prim and taking care of her mother for more than a decade since her father’s passing. Now, Prim was in her second year of medical school where she received full funding for her work, and her mother has a live-in aide to help her with her daily needs. She finally did not have to spend all of her time focusing on school and work and money and bills, and without Prim nearby, she felt lonely. Her friends had convinced her to start going on dates, but after months of failed attempts, she still had nothing to show for it.

“Is it me, Jo?” she responded, “Do I just attract these weirdos?”

“Oh, shut up, brainless. You've been going on dates for a few months. Maybe if you gave yourself a little more practice when we were younger it’d be easier, but some people take years to find something that sticks. You’re hot. You’re smart. You’re caring. Maybe a little hard to swallow with the scowl, but anyone that gets to know the real you is gonna love you.”

She sighed, “Okay.”

“You wanna come over here? I was just going to watch some Dexter reruns, but there’s plenty of room on this couch for two.”

“Actually, I think I need a drink. I’ll let you know what I’m doing after.”

Katniss’s conversation with Johanna ended shortly after, and she made her way into the pub.

The pub was crowded, a symptom of it being a Friday evening in the winter, and Katniss had to shuffle past a group of freshly legal college students to make it to the bar. She wanted something simple, something just to take the edge off, and was quickly handed her rum and coke.

Eager to people-watch while she nursed her drink, Katniss scanned the crowd for an empty seat. Most of the tables seemed to be taken up by a larger group, but a single chair at a small table in the corner of the room was wonderfully vacant. Katniss closed her tab and swiftly made her way across the room.

As she approached, she stopped in her tracks. Hidden from her initial view was a man sitting on the other side of the table, somewhat hunched over with a book in his hands. Before she could backtrack and look for another open seat, he picked his head up and locked eyes with her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was gonna sit here but didn’t realize you were already here. I’ll just…” her voice trailed off. Katniss had a habit of not finishing her sentences when she was flustered, and after meeting the man’s gaze, she was very flustered. Not only was she not expecting someone to be sitting at the table, but now that he was looking at her, his blue eyes piercing through to her even under the pub’s dim lights, she realized he was around her age and absolutely hot. Her hands began to sweat, and her tongue started to feel like lead.

The man smiled, an endearing smile that quirked more on the left side of his face, highlighting a sole dimple on his cheek. “Don’t worry about it. You can sit here,” He replied, his eyes scanning the room. “Besides, it doesn’t look like there’ll be much room anywhere else.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, and he nodded. “Thank you so much. I promise I won’t even bother you. We don’t even have to talk or anything…” Katniss said as she placed her bag on the table and took her seat.

Katniss started scanning the other patrons of the pub to observe their activities, but her eyes frequently darted back to the man seated across from her. She gathered more bits and pieces of his appearance in the brief moments she allowed herself to study his features. He had blond, curly hair that looked intentionally tousled. His shoulders were very broad, pulling the fabric of his navy henley taut across his chest. He had freckles across the bridge of his nose, and he drummed the table with his left hand while holding the book he was reading in his right.

After a few minutes, he lifted his eyes up from his book and offered her a soft smile. “My name is Peeta, by the way.”

“Katniss,” she said, offering a shy smile of her own.

“You know, I really don’t mind talking if you want to.”

Her grin grew. “Okay, then.” She paused, unsure of where to start, but her curiosity eventually got the better of her when she asked, “Can I ask why you’re reading a book at a crowded bar on a Friday night?”

Peeta chuckled, a laugh that let Katniss know he wasn’t offended. “You waste no time getting to the deep stuff. I actually just moved into my first solo apartment, and as much as I’m happy to have my own space, the silence feels kinda deafening.”

“Ah,” she began, appraising him up and down, “so you find comfort in the chaos.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. I grew up in a house with two older brothers, and the two of them used to practice wrestling no matter where they were. In the dining room, the backyard. One time they threw each other down the stairs,” he chuckled again, “Our mom wasn’t too happy about that one.”

“You’re joking,” Katniss laughed.

“Not even a little bit, I swear. And then I lived in a house with my three friends all the way through grad school. My best friend Finnick used to play eighties pop at all hours of the day. Think, like, Donna Summer or Cyndi Lauper on full blast at three in the morning.”

“And you guys never asked him to stop?” Katniss asked, finding she wanted to know more and more about him.

At this, Peeta hit her with a dead stare, his blue eyes piercing her with a combination of humor and seriousness. “See, that is something only someone who doesn’t know Finnick would ask. If we made any attempts to get him to stop this relatively-harmless-if-not-mildly-annoying behavior, we would only trigger severely worse outcomes for us all.”

“And you said this is your best friend?” Peeta let out a boisterous laugh in reply.

While sitting with Peeta, Katniss found the guard she had put up during her date with Cato had come crashing down.

They spoke about their jobs. Katniss explained how she works as a forest ranger, but she hopes to finish school to become an environmental engineer. Peeta said that he just finished graduate school to become a doctor of architecture.

“I really liked art, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy my parents or pay the bills, so I tried to do the next best thing I could think of.”

“So you became a literal doctor? In a field that’s focused on math and design? Are you a genius?”

“Time Magazine did call me the reincarnation of Albert Einstein.”

“Hm. And to think I placed you more as a Michelangelo.”

They spoke about their families. Katniss spoke about her mom and Prim. She bragged about her sister’s accomplishment in getting a full ride to a great medical school across the country. She felt so comfortable with Peeta, she didn’t even shy away from speaking about her late father, even if it was in the briefest of terms. Peeta nodded his head as she spoke, squeezing her hand across the table when he sensed certain details were particularly hard for her to get out. Peeta, the son of bakers, grew up really close with his older brothers. His oldest brother took over the family business, and while Peeta loves baking, he enjoys it more as a hobby than a career.

This seamlessly led to them speaking about their childhoods. Katniss was mostly shy, harboring two friends, Madge and Gale, through her schooling, despite her being a star on her school’s track and archery teams. University allowed her to come out of her shell and meet friends that didn’t matter her reticent personality, like Johanna. Peeta wrestled, painted, did debate team, and wrote. He had a solid group of friends during school, but he found his lifelong friends in college.

They spoke about the little things. Their favorite colors. Favorite snacks. Movies. Shows. And their answers were so similar across all categories, they had a near total eclipse on a venn diagram of each topic. Their responses were so alike that, at one point, Katniss plastered her face with her signature scowl Peeta had not yet been acquainted with, asking him if he was being totally honest with his responses.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, “Look, that scowl is too intimidating for me to not come clean. So the truth is, I’ve been being honest this entire time.”

Before Katniss realized, nearly two hours had gone since she first sat down with Peeta. They fell into a comfortable silence, and she studied his features more in the muted light. She tried to picture what he looked like out of this setting. Hunching over a sketchbook. Cooking in his kitchen. Laughing with his friends. Cheering on his nephews at their little league games.

She studied the way the dim light caught onto the golden strands of his eyelashes, becoming mesmerized by the way they fluttered against his cheek when he blinked. She didn’t even realize she was staring until he spoke again, causing her to jump slightly.

“So what about you?” He asked, a small grin on his lips.

“What about me?”

“Well, before you asked what I’m doing at a bar alone on a Friday night. But what are you doing alone here on a Friday night so that I, a stranger, was able to take up so much of your time?”

Katniss contemplates what she should say, unsure if she should reveal her failed date with Cato. But as Peeta looked at her with sincerity in his eyes, she has the hunch that she could really trust him.

“If I’m honest, I came here because I had left a really, really bad first date,” she responded sheepishly.

Peeta cocked his left eyebrow expectantly. “How bad?”

“Well… it was so bad I made my best friend call me and say she was having an emergency with her fake baby to give me a reason to bail,” Katniss blurted out, her tone hitching at the end to make her statement sound more like a question. Like she was questioning if she really did that herself.

Both of Peeta’s eyebrows were raised, his eyes glinting with amusement, lips curling in to stop him from laughing. “You’re kidding me,” he managed to croak out.

“In my defense, he only spoke about his college football experiences, and after I started leaving to go help my friend with her fake baby, he still asked if we were having sex later!”

At this, Peeta burst out laughing, and after Katniss realized exactly what she said, she joined him. As Katniss clutched her stomach, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes, she almost missed what Peeta said next.

“That’s why I’ve kind of given up on dating.”

“Given up?” Katniss asked, her voice airy from her recent laughter and something silly like concern that she might have been wrong about the connection she felt with him all night.

“In grad school, every date I went on just didn’t have any spark. They were just mediocre. Then, I got so busy with trying to finish my degree, I just gave up on the whole thing.” For the first time that night, Peeta responded without meeting her gaze.

She’s not sure what made her say it. Maybe it was the second rum and coke she had gotten while talking with Peeta. Maybe it was that she felt like she had nothing left to lose after her first failed date of the night. Or, maybe it was because she knew she’d majorly regret if she didn’t try to continue with the something that she felt burning between her and Peeta, but she had to say it.

“I find that hard to believe considering this is probably the closest thing I’ve had to a good date in what feels like forever.”

At this, Peeta drew his head back in what appeared to be shock. His eyes met her again, an indecipherable expression plastering his features as he searched hers. Katniss shifted in her chair, somewhat uncomfortable with his unreadable scrutiny.

Finally, Peeta’s features relaxed. and he looked Katniss right in the eye with a neutral, if not somewhat strained, expression. “Tell you what,” he began, “I have to go to the bathroom, but when I come back, I’ll ask you out for real.”

Katniss shot him a curious expression, but as Peeta began to move, it clicked. He did not stand from his seat – he wheeled back from the table, towards the back of the bar with the bathrooms. His left pant leg tied off just below the knee. Katniss understood: he wanted her to see everything about him before she agreed to go on a date with him. He was giving her an out.

At this, Katniss’s gut twisted, both with regret and butterflies. She felt somewhat bad for him, wondering if this was a move he made from being rejected for his physical condition before. Wondering how anyone could do that to anyone, let alone a guy like Peeta. But overpowering this feeling were the butterflies. He liked her. He wanted her to see all of him. He was laying his insecurities bare for her. Most importantly, he already trusted her. In mind, body, and spirit, he couldn’t be any more beautiful.

A minute later, Peeta emerged from the bathroom, a goofy grin plastered across his face to perfectly match hers.

As soon as he reached the table, the words came tumbling out of Katniss’s mouth before she could stop them.

“So, I’m free all weekend. What do you have in mind?”

[betterthanthemovies]

book mail! 💌

[jesstasticvoyage]

I'm just writing a little something. I haven't decided if I plan to continue it, but I figured why not post it here. It's been a hot minute since I've posted my writing on this blog.

It's written from the perspective of Billy from Daisy Jones & The Six.

Nicotine-stained fingers drummed against his knee, the fabric worn to the point he was able to feel the heat of his skin radiate through. A song itched for release, rattling inside his anxious mind. The way it danced and teased Billy, taunting him with creative familiarity, yet he couldn't put those fucking words to paper.

God, it used to come easy all those years back. The muse pulsed through him at a fevered intensity, a blissful coke-fueled high he chased down and harnessed. To the extent that intense ferocity caused his aching fingers to beg for reprieve. How they ached after hours of writing, strumming, and picking just the right chords.

Fuck. How he longs for those days. How he took them for granted.

Billy thought he was there, dancing along the cusp of a creative break from a hellish, prolonged dry spell. His thinking to awaken that long-slumbering muse was to flip through pages of an old photo album. The pages creaked as he went, and the familiar intoxicating familiarity stirred within. Yet, as soon as it awakened, it immediately snoozed, instantly pissing him off. With a frustrated voice, Billy said. “It’s never going to be the same, will Cami?” A photograph, yellowed at the edges in the beat-up album, stared back at him. A self-portrait of his late wife smiled at him through a mirror’s reflection. A flowy dress, one she’d worn to the point Billy could remember how nice the material felt as his calloused fingers ran through it. It’s been years since his goodbye to the love of his life. His Aurora. She stood by him through the good, bad, and the bullshit. Through all the things which threatened to crack the foundation, they’ve worked hard to rebuild after his continual fuck ups. As cliche as the saying is, Billy feels part of him died along with Cami.

Billy snapped the album shut harder than intended and ran arthritic fingers through his thick, wavy hair. His old guitar sat beside him on the couch, desperate for his familiar touch. Billy knows he’ll pick it up and strum until a few songs from his Dunne Brothers’ days come through. The songs fans requested he upload it to TikTok along with a couple from when Daisy was in the group. The thing was, Billy wanted to wow those fans with something new. Original. This song speaks of love lived and lost through the cruelty of time. No matter how long Cami’s been gone, her ghost caresses his soul and encourages him to move forward. That strong desire to do so sits on his cracked heart, and no matter how hard Billy tries to stitch the broken pieces together, he just finds it’s too fucking hard without her.

A drink sounds good right about now.

[jesslockwood]

Detecting The Haunted

Pairing : Anthony Lockwood x Fem!Ex-detective!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, death, blood, gore, basically things that are in the Lockwood and co series (individual chapters will have more specific warnings)

Summary: Y/n a now ex-detective, had always been warned by her father never to become an agent. But in desperate times and having to take desperate measures, Lockwood and co convinces her to stay due to them seemingly being her only current option, even though she has to live with the one and only, Anthony bloody Lockwood who she can't seem to get past loathing.

Main Masterlist

Chapters

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

[fandom-scatteredthoughtsonpaper]

After-party of All-night Gaming and Cuddling

Leviathan x MC

Pronouns: You | POV: Second

Tags: all-night gaming, cuddling, falling asleep together (platonically) on the floor, cute and fluff, expect a spew of dialogue about games, birthday celebration

A/N: This is my part for Levi's birthday collaboration! I paired with a wonderful artist (Twitter) who did such a cute piece (tumblr). Their piece is under the cut at the end of the story.

“What’re ya doin’ lettin’ him slip by you like that?”

“Don’t you dare blame me! I told you to go around the other way!”

“Hey, Satan! Quit tryin’ to run away, and get over here!”

“Not another step, Asmo. Stay away from me, Mammon! Get off, you idiot!”

You winced as you heard the loud ruckus in the kitchen from the dining room. The birthday party for Levi had dissolved into a mess of an afterparty. Beel was distracted finishing off all the leftovers, and Belphie had disappeared to take a nap. Mammon and Asmo had had their fill of too much Demonus. At some point during cleanup they had caught Satan in the kitchen and started harassing him.

“Hey, MC, do you want to go hang out in my room?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, the party is pretty much over at this point, right?”

An abrupt shriek from Asmo cut you off before you could reply, causing you and Levi to snap your heads in the direction of the kitchen. Almost instinctively, you went to sort out the trouble before the situation got worse, but Levi stopped you, shaking his head as you turned your attention back to him.

“It’ll be instant game over for you if you go in there now,” he warned with an incredulous look, like he couldn’t believe you would be willing to walk into a scenario where Satan could be armed with kitchen knives that he would gladly be using as makeshift darts.

“S-Satan, just calm down for a minute, would ya?!”

“I told you to leave me alone.” An explosion of what sounded like cast iron and metal clanging onto the floor heavily startled you. Levi gave a grimacing look over your shoulder as shattering crashes followed shortly afterwards. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU BOTH!”

“Ahh! Mammon, this is all your fault!”

“Wha--! You were in on this just as much as I was, ya bastard!”

The only thing louder than the destruction was the twin screams of panic and terror as Satan wreaked havoc just a room away. A thought that popped into your head was that hopefully he would be mindful of your bedroom in his blind rage. A second thought was that you hoped he would avoid destroying the skillet you liked to use when you were on cooking duty.

“MC, listen. An impending doom is coming. I can feel it in my bones. So, before it happens, I think we should make our escape before Lucifer comes back.”

Lucifer had left the house unsupervised to see Diavolo and Barbatos off, but he would be returning soon. You knew it would be a bad idea to be in the vicinity when he discovered the state of the kitchen, in utter ruins in the short frame of time he was gone. While you did feel bad for Mammon and Asmo at the moment, you knew whatever punishment that Lucifer would pass judgment on to them would be far worse than what Satan was currently doing. In hindsight of similar events, you knew this was unavoidable and decided to wash your hands of the problem before you got dragged into it.

“We should probably skedaddle before we get caught in any crossfires.”

“Yeah, agreed. Let’s go!”

Leaving the cacophonous commotion downstairs, the retreat to his room was a smooth success. When you passed the door frame, Levi shut the door and locked it. A preventive measure to keep two certain idiots that would probably try to flee to wherever you would be to lessen the severity of Lucifer’s anger.

“Ahhh, I can already feel myself recharging! Birthday or not, a party is a party, and I’m not cut out for all those high levels of energy. I feel totally drained.”

“So, what did you want to do?”

Despite his complaint of fatigue, his tired demeanor immediately lit up with energy. It was something you noticed before, but his recovery time after entering his bedroom was astoundingly similar to how your phone charged from a low battery to an impressive mid-range percentage in several minutes with the DevilishlyTurbo charger you recently bought. The comparison tickled you enough to make you giggle under your breath.

“Now that you’re here, we can play Devil Kart 8 Deluxe! This is an enhanced version that has a ton of new tracks and overhauled mechanics and new content that will be released in waves. A few waves have already been released, and I played a bit of it myself and put a ton of hours into winning the tournaments to unlock tracks and characters for, uh… for us to use. I wanted to play with you after the party, so I put my all into making sure I got all the content that’s currently available. I think there are some stages and vehicles you would like.”

Levi plopped himself on the rug in front of his television. He gestured to the open space next to him, and you sat beside him. Sitting so close to him, listening to him explain the game and all the stuff he unlocked for you both to be able to enjoy, you noticed a difference in his excitement from during the party. It might have been a subtle thing or maybe not, but the way his eyes flashed and the broad smile he had while explaining in his long-winded fashion all the new things the game included or brought back and would get eventually and the animated, wild gestures he made that almost bumped into you a couple times, it all seemed less reserved and more natural. It made you positively giddy watching him be himself.

“Anyway, I already have it all hooked up to the T.V., so we can race together with these instead of the gamepads. I bought them specifically to match the racing element of the game!” Levi indicated to two steering wheel controllers. A tinge of a blush reddened his cheeks as he glanced from the gaming setup to you. “S-So… do you wanna play together until my birthday is over?”

“Uh, yeah, definitely!” You grabbed the controller closest to you and gave Levi a cocky look. “I’ve been practicing a lot since you practically demolished me last time we played a racing game, but this time you’re going to get your butt kicked!”

He looked stunned by your laydown of a challenge, but you could see his competitive spirit coming out in the smugness of his attitude as he picked up the other controller. “You say that practically every time we play a versus game. If you want a chance to beat someone, you should go challenge Belphie or Asmo. No one has a chance of surpassing me at video games!”

“Yeah, okay. No being a sore loser over it when I beat you, then. I know how you can get super salty when you get bested, especially after letting yourself get too overconfident.”

“Shut up lol! I don’t know what you’re even talking about!” Levi had a pinched line that kind of resembled the condescending smirk when he had mouthed off, but you could tell his few losses were a bit more than skin level insults to him. “If you think I’m going to pull any punches now, then---”

“When have you ever pulled punches during a game?! You always play to win no matter what!”

“OMG, hurry up and choose a character already!”

You had a few good moments during a couple races, like how you stole his first-place position by using the most agonizing offensive item the game had, the bat banana peel, at the last possible moment or how you would knock Levi off roads to drop his placement and slow him down. Some of his rages were so legitimate you could only stare wide-eyed with a stiff smirk that was pinned in place by genuine nervousness. After a triple dozen races, the majority mostly won by Levi, the fiery retorts, heat-of-the-moment insults, and mocking jeers settled into more friendly comments about the game itself and the updated graphics and the characters that were being brought over from other games under Funtendo’s licensing.

Hours slipped by, and you could feel your eyes getting heavier as you tried your best to fight against your tiredness. You wanted to stay up as long as you could with Levi. Yeah, it was definitely past midnight now, but you were having a lot of fun. Stopping now felt like prematurely ending the moment, but exhaustion was waiting for you each time you blinked, lingering in that split second of darkness to persuade you to keep your eyes closed and submit to it. It was getting harder and harder to open your eyes again. You knew you had to tap out before you actually passed out.

“Levi, I don’t think I can keep going. I’m about to fall asleep sitting up.”

“Aww... Okay. You have been crashing into the walls and stuff a lot, anyway.”

You began the motions to get up so you could return to your own room, but Levi stopped you when he grabbed your arm. “Wh-- Hey! Where are you going?!”

“To my room?”

“Y-You don’t have to leave just because we stopped playing! I still, um, want to spend time with you. I know it isn’t my birthday anymore, but… I mean, if you’re tired you can just watch me play a game, instead!”

Levi leaned forward to where his handheld Funtendo console was docked and pulled it out. You watched him as he sorted through the menus and confirmations, before he turned it around to show you the opening title of the game he was referring to.

“There is this other game that I’ve gotten into called Anima 3! It combines elements of standard role-playing and simulation games in a really interesting way. It kind of has hints of dating sim mechanics, but the dating function itself isn’t really important. That part of the game is more integral when you start entering the dungeon at nighttime. The relationships you build in your daily life affect the battle levels and stuff, because the more you strengthen them, the higher the level you get for different types of power. Oh, do you know about tarot cards? The game heavily bases itself around the Major Arcana cards. Anyway, the relationships you work to maintain relate to the certain creatures that you use in fights. So, keeping the balance of social links and your strength up is super important! You pretty much have free reign during the day except for scripted events. This game is so deep and intricately well done with the way it weaves the plot between characters and their personal developments and friendships. I’ve even teared up at a few scenes, like this one where one of the characters that finally came back to the dormitory where the group lives – oh, yeah, he was a part of the original members before he left, because – ah, that is totally a spoiler, sorry – so, he comes back, and he starts to find a place with the group again, but something terri-- AH! I almost completely ruined his story arc for you! Uh, so, yeah, I mean, this game is pretty amazing, and it even has a really good soundtrack that I’ve been listening to nonstop since I downloaded it.”

Levi rambled and gushed about the details of the game and its story while he loaded up the current save slot. You were a bit lost on some of the context he was giving, but he was enthusiastic about showing it to you, so you just let him talk.

Once the game was ready, he brought himself next to you. Unfortunately, the jellyfish mobile was casting their lights on the display of the console from your spot, so you leaned more into Levi, trying to lessen the obscuring glare. That resolved your issue for the most part, but now Levi had his arm pinned uncomfortably. He angled the game so you could see it better and so you could get off him, but honestly, it just seemed to be more awkward, because now he was trying to reposition himself without ruining your viewpoint.

“Okay, this isn’t working,” Levi said after ascending a few of the dungeon floors. “Can you move away a bit?”

Puzzled, you scooched yourself apart from Levi as he stretched his legs out, spreading them open enough for a decent amount of space in-between them. He gave you a flustered look as he patted the floor twice. “How about you, um, come sit here, and then I can… uh, I mean, it’ll just be easier on both of us this way, okay?”

Hiding an involuntary smile at his embarrassed thoughtfulness, you sat yourself in-between his legs and scooted into what felt like an acceptable spot. You could feel Levi against your back. He was stiff and hesitant to relax, but he was simultaneously invitingly warm. This was so much cozier compared to the twisted, leaning position. Levi brought his arms around you, locking you into an open embrace as he held his gaming console in front you. You could both share the screen now without compromising uncomfortable postures now.

Or so you thought, anyway. Levi was struggling with adjusting with the way he was trying to hold the game. His arms would slightly squeeze you and extend forward, but then he would widen his elbows out and bring the console in too close. He fiddled with a range of different forms before he dropped the console in defeat, sighing dramatically.

“You’re going to have to be a little bit closer for me to be able to do this right. Here...”

An arm snaked itself around your waist, and Levi dragged you backwards with a smooth ease until you were completely in his lap. He closed his legs around yours, drawing in a knee so that it framed your left hip. This was basically a hug in all senses of the word with how he was holding you. The space was tighter but not too imposing. It felt more authentic than the spacious attempt you had tried to do, and from the relaxed shift of weight behind you, you could tell Levi felt better about this new arrangement.

Settling into Levi, you could feel his chest steadily moving, lulling you into a relaxation. It was a rarity to be this intimately close with him, and being inside his personal space, you could pick up whiffs of his smell. His scent was a slightly sharp and pungent smell, almost medicinal, but with impressions of a sweet and warm undertone that balanced out the more distinct smell. A soothing resinous-like odor that vaguely reminded you of the seashore. The enticement of sleep was more inviting with his arms around you, nudging you on occasion when his arms twitched as he pressed buttons. The soft clicks from the control pad only added to the lullaby of senses. Barely focusing on the game screen, the colors were becoming blurs and smudges as Levi played on, unaware of your drifting consciousness.

He had such a habit of losing himself into the worlds of 2D media, but he came back to reality when he needed to stretch his aching arms. A little bit ashamed and sheepish about the fact he forgot about you, he tried to play it off with just how immersive the gameplay was, running off with the excuse that Anima 3 was just that phenomenal and so on.

“So, what do you think so far?”

He paused for a reply, but silence was the only thing that answered his question.

“Hey, are you ignoring me..?”

Your lack of a response diverted just enough of his concentration that Levi finally noticed something was off with you. He glanced down, and his attention for the game diminished almost completely when he realized that you were dead asleep in his lap. He felt his cheeks flare up instantly as his brain tried to process this turn of development.

“Hey..! Whoa whoa whoa! Are you actually seriously asleep right now?!”

Self-consciousness of the situation and shocked nerves rattled him, and his hands started shaking, vibrating the game. It almost slipped out of his grasp, and he barely caught it before it dropped on you. Levi froze motionless as he waited to see if the sudden movement was going to cause you to rouse from your slumber. You were gone from the world, though, thoroughly beyond anything minor waking you up.

“Hgnahhh…” When he released a breath that had been unconsciously caught it came out as a weird, whiney sighing noise that made his heated cheeks burn more. Levi scrunched his eyebrows in dismay and ignored the mocking thought of how you would have definitely laughed if you had heard it.

Saving the progress in the game and turning it off, Levi placed it out of the way. A sudden wave of tiredness made his body feel heavy, and the warmth you were giving off only added to the effect of drowsiness that he didn’t feel like fighting off. Bracing an arm around you as he lounged back on the rug, moving cautiously so he wouldn’t disturb you awake from his movements, it donned on him as he cuddled with you that he was essentially being used as a body pillow. The blush he was sporting was probably a sight to see as it went in for round three of displaying his awkwardness.

Hugging you more onto him, your head rising and falling with each breath that he took, Levi made peace with his hangups and the high chance one of his brothers might barge into his room in the later hours of the morning, but for right now, he was enjoying his time alone with you. It was still in the remnants of his birthday and having you with him was a perfect conclusion to a day that was focused on him by his brothers and the royalty of the Devildom. It wasn’t too long before Levi fell asleep himself, unaware and uncaring of the wails of despair coming from the kitchen from sources that had strung up to the ceiling.

[gracegrove]

Change

🙃 a little snip bc I had to find a new therapist

_____

"You have no goals, Billy," the therapist stated from behind his desk, "I cannot help you if you have no goals."

Crossing his arms, Billy leaned back into the stiff office chair. "I have goals... you just don't like them."

The therapist looked at him with shrewd eyes. "You have no short-term goals. Ones to improve your mental health..."

"Getting outta this shithole of a town will improve my mental health."

"That's a long-term goal."

"Whatever."

The therapist set his notepad aside. "Look, Billy, I genuinely want to help you, but until you're willing to put some work in there's nothing for us to do."

Billy scoffed, rising to his feet. "Some help you are." He quit the room with the door slamming behind him.

"Fuck 'em," Billy told himself as he drove out of the business lot.

This was stupid. He had goals. He knew exactly what he wanted and how to work for it. He wouldn't let some poindexter in a tweed suit tell him what he was or wasn't capable of.

Weeks passed and things remained the same. Work, drink, smoke, repeat. Billy's mood was foul. Over the past week, Max started avoiding him and Steve started driving by to pick her up.

Digging around in the refrigerator, a lit cigarette in his mouth Billy grumbled as he set to making his lunch for the next day. Bread, pickles, mustard... where's the bologna? Where's the goddamned bologna?

Not pulling his head from inside the fridge Billy asked aloud, "Where'd the meat go?"

Susan looked up from the table, "What?"

"The bologna," Billy stated, poking his head out the door, "where is it?"

"I used the last of it for yesterday's lunches."

Grinding his teeth, Billy chewed into his cigarette, the filter threads spreading across his tongue. "How'm I supposed to make a damn sandwich with no meat?"

Susan looked at him wordlessly.

"Chill out, it's just some cold cuts," Max piped in from the living room, "just buy a burger or something."

Billy slammed the fridge shut, "I shouldn't have to spend my money when you could eat less!"

Max got up from the couch heading toward the kitchen, "Girl's gotta eat..."

Billy met her in the small hall space and breathed smoke into her face. "You wanna eat so bad, go make your own money."

"You need help!" Max snapped.

Billy slammed his fist against the trailer wall startling Max, before he stalked off to his room.

Collapsing onto his bed, he ashed his desiccated cigarette on the dirty plate sitting on his nightstand.

"I fucking need something," he thought to himself.

Which is why he was now here, sitting in this waiting room. Staring blankly at the saltwater fish tank with three fish and a bubbling treasure chest.

"Billy?" A squat woman with large coke bottle glasses was in the doorway.

"Yeah, that's me."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Come on in."

[jesspendley]

The arrival of fall typically makes me desperately productive. Like I can feel winter coming and the new year hot on my tail and I have to run to make the remainder of this year worthy. Worthy of what exactly is a deeper question to answer (of you, of me, of all of the things sacrificed that I could have been doing in lieu of all of this) but it’s a driver.

I’m self-aware enough to know that this is most likely a result of my executive dysfunction stretched to a macro scale but I always liked to think of it as an instinct. Another special little something that the universe gave me in exchange for…I don’t know—the ability to do math in my head. Or eat the fresh produce in the fridge before it goes bad. Or message someone back in a reasonable amount of time. The universe does not give or take in equal measure so it could be a lot of things. Continued on Substack