#spent all weekend being GAY

[zippers]

uggggh i've kind of escalated a friendship into romantic territory, may or may not be super giddy about it!

[hard-core-super-star]

(they long to be) close to you [W.Maximoff]

pairing: baker!wanda x college student!reader

summary: after months of pining after the lovely owner of westview's best cafe, you finally get a chance to get to know her better.

warnings: none, just fluff and pining; MILF!wanda because my hand slipped; is cute tension a thing?; gay panic; bad flirting; mentions of stress and tense family dynamics

wordcount: 1.8k

a/n: this idea came from a brief conversation with one of my favorite people [@katehopecore] and i wasn't able to get it out of my head so now it's here! and it'll probably end up as a series because i can't help myself. anyway, hope you enjoy <3 [oh AND, the cranberries version of this song is the best one, you can't change my mind]

part two | part three | part four |

* * * * * * *

Life in Westview had become a weird sort of predictable by now. Same routine, same people, same comfy booth at the best café in town.

Ironically, you didn't even live in said city. At least, not anymore. There was a time in your life when you'd known nothing except that small town in New Jersey and the neighbors you'd seen your whole life. It was easy, familiar, and so comfortable it became uncomfortable.

And so, to your parent's dismay, when you graduated from high school, you'd decided to leave. You chose to go to college in New York, trading the world you knew for a shining, new, incredibly loud, alternative. As overwhelming as the change had been, it was everything you'd wanted and more.

That being said, you still came back home as much as you could, more out of routine than anything else. At first, you'd left your visits reserved for holiday breaks and three-day weekends. When things got busy at school, the last thing you wanted was to be cooped up with your parents, avoiding their questions and listening to them rant about the neighbors.

Things had taken a turn, however, when you'd accidentally stumbled across Wanda Maximoff and her quaint, yet cozy, café. The lovely owner had moved into town right when you were graduating high school, so even though your parents had attended the house-warming party, you'd never met her.

Maybe that was why you were so drawn to the space. Why your feet carried you there instead of your usual hiding spots. Well, they were technically study spots. At least that was what you told yourself, even though most of the time, you were just looking for an excuse to get some fresh air away from your childhood room.

You weren't sure how it happened, but somehow, Wanda's bakery had become your safe heaven. The one place you could always run to for a warm pastry and a comforting smile.

Okay, maybe you were more fond of the beautiful owner than the fantastic coffee and pastries, but that was beside the point.

What truly mattered, at least right now, was the fact that you'd chosen to leave New York for the weekend, swearing you were going to study and prepare for your midterms next week. Of course, that was easier said than done.

Especially when you'd spent most of the morning drooling into your coffee since Wanda was working the counter today. She had no business looking as good as she did in a flannel and suspenders, her lovely red hair falling into soft waves over her shoulders.

It was a little comical how unaware of the effect she had on other people Wanda seemed to be. It was almost like she was in her own little world. One filled with croissant recipes and the weirdest ways to keep an old espresso machine from breaking down.

She was the most enchanting woman you'd ever met and she didn't even know it. Didn't even notice the way all the teenage boys that came in tripped over themselves for a second of her attention.

As much as you wanted to make fun of them, you were just the same.

Except more mature…at least, you hoped.

You're in the middle of another study session, the most recent drink you'd ordered forgotten on the table among the chaos of notebooks, books and of course, your struggling laptop, when you hear footsteps approaching.

You don't look up from your textbook until you hear the sound of a plate and a glass being placed on the table. A question is on the tip of your tongue when your eyes meet Wanda's. There's a softness in them that speaks volumes.

"You've been here for a while," she says with a small shrug. "I thought you might be hungry."

It's only then that you fully realize what she's placed on the table. A glass of water with a few slices of lemon and a plate with a warm ham and cheese croissant. It's not the most extravagant of meals by any means but, considering the growling of your stomach, it's exactly what you need.

"Thank you," you mumble, your voice coming out slightly hoarse. "This is really nice of you."

"Oh, it's nothing, sweetheart." The warmth that spread across your chest stops you from seeing the blush on her cheeks. "Just a little something to keep your energy up."

You're not sure what compels you but you close your laptop and move your stuff out of the way. "Would you like to sit for a little? You've been working hard all morning too."

A small smile tugs at the corners of the older woman's lips. "I shouldn't but…I'm sure the boys can manage for a few minutes."

You sneak a glance up at the counter, watching as the young boys behind the counter scramble to help the working adults preparing coffee orders. Even though you don't want to pry, a question falls out of your lips once you take in the similarities between the two boys and the woman sitting in front of you. "Are they…your sons?"

Wanda nods before you can think too hard about the embarrassing question you just asked. "Yeah, Billy and Tommy. They come help out on the weekends before going to their father's for a few days."

Thankfully, you were barely reaching for your water when she said that, otherwise…you might have made an even bigger fool of yourself by choking like an idiot. That being said…you still didn't push down the urge to keep asking questions.

"You're married?"

"Was married," she corrects. "Things didn't work out, but we share custody and are still good friends. It makes it easier on the boys, I think."

It's hard to hide the smile that starts spreading across your face. You hate how instantaneous it is, how insensitive it makes you feel, and more importantly…how relieved you feel. You barely know this woman, and yet here you are, wrapped around her finger so tightly that you can't stop yourself from hoping there's a chance.

A chance for what? Only time will tell, you suppose.

"Do they like baking too?" You ask as you dig into the croissant, steering the conversation away from something that might make you gay panic.

Your question makes her laugh, the sound sharp with surprise yet filled with warmth. "Oh no, the second they see flour anywhere, they start throwing it at each other."

"Can't say I blame them. I probably wouldn't be much better."

"That's disappointing," Wanda teases. "I was looking for an apprentice."

You giggle in response and concentrate on not appearing too flustered. You're not sure you succeed, though, considering the way the older woman looks at you. "I would if I could, midterm season doesn't give me much free time."

"An even better reason to give baking a try," she replies. "It's what I do when I'm stressed."

"So you decided to open a bakery? How does that work?"

She shrugs. "Divorce is stressful."

All you can do is shake your head and laugh again, feeling warmth bloom in your chest as she joins you. You're pretty sure you can get used to making her laugh like this.

"I might have to give it a try then," you say once your laughter dies down. "It sounds much better than what I've been doing."

"Which is?"

"Ignoring my problems and drinking too much coffee."

"Oh."

To ignore the soft concern in her features, you go back to eating. Thankfully, she doesn't press you or ask any more questions. She simply sits with you, keeping you company and helping you stay grounded.

It's…nice having her with you, you find. Even though all she's doing is sitting with you, her presence is calming. Comforting.

And maybe you should unpack that, but you'd rather not ruin the peace that's settled over you.

Wanda seems just as comfortable as you, since she doesn't move from her spot until she's sure you've finished eating, and she's coaxed you into finishing the glass of water. Even then, she isn't in much of a rush. At least, until one of the twins (you're still not sure which one is which, since you're too embarrassed to ask) tells her the oven went off and the newest batch of cookies is ready.

The smile on your face falters some at that and the older woman must notice because she turns back to you with a certain sparkle in her eyes. "Would you like to come help? I know you're probably busy but-"

"Yes." You rush the words out before you can second-guess yourself. "I'd love to."

Her surprise turns into glee and before you know it you're putting your things away and following her into the back. Somehow, even though the entire café always smells sweet, the aroma coming from the ovens is magnificent. You're not sure how you're going to help her without eating half of the batch.

She seems to read your mind because she motions for you to sit on a counter while she takes the cookies out of the oven. You're more than happy to watch her work, munching on whatever sweet treat she hands you to keep you from getting bored. You're pretty sure it's impossible to be bored in her presence but you don't mention that.

Some time passes before Wanda speaks again. "Sorry, I'm usually better at multitasking."

You instantly shake your head. "It's okay, I don't mind the quiet. It's nice watching you work."

"You're too sweet," she says, looking up at you with a mock glare.

You stifle a laugh as you notice the faint streak of icing on her face. "Actually, I think you have me beaten."

Her eyebrows furrow, more out of confusion than annoyance, though. "What's so funny?"

Instead of answering, you slide off the counter and reach out to wipe the icing off her face. There's still space between you, but it feels suddenly small…like if you just stepped forward…

The sound of the oven going off again stops you before you can do something truly idiotic.

Your hand drops as Wanda turns. "You should help me decorate this next batch. My hand's a little tired."

You have a feeling she's not at all tired, considering this is her passion, but you see the offer for what it is. A chance to spend more time with her.

"Deal."

It's not until almost an hour later that either of you acknowledge what happened. The soft touch and the even softer looks exchanged.

It's subtle, like the smell of her perfume that starts lingering on your clothes.

"You know, if you want to come back tomorrow, I would appreciate the help."

And you do.

The next morning. And the next Saturday. And the one after that.

You come back each and every weekend until you accidentally carve out a space in her heart reserved just for you.

[bitxhy-bookworm]

CinnaVanilla

Farmer!Sevika x Baker Fem! Reader

‘You have got to be kidding meeee’

The agitated thought slips into your mind as you hear the bell to your bakery door ring. Initially, you perked up at the sound, you love your customer base. It’s hard not to, a beautiful small southern town. Everyone’s got sweet, honey-like accents and enough warmth to get you through the longest winters. It’s much different from the city you grew up in, loud, rushing and harsh. It took a while to get used to the southern charm around but you consider yourself pretty well accustomed to it now.

However, even the sweetest orchard has its share of rotten apples (a phrase the pretty cowgirl from next door taught you) and these rotten apples seem to be drawn to your shop for some reason. You watch as a familiar middle-aged couple walks in, plastering on your usual welcoming smile, you turn to them “Welcome in y’all! You back for more samples?” This couple has been planning their “Vow Renewal” for some weeks now and have decided that they simply must have your cakes at the party. Which normally is great, lots of business and cakes are your second favorite pastry to bake (cookies being your favorite). But it’s not great, because for some reason this couple can’t seem to decide on a flavor so they’re in here every Saturday.. taste testing, poking, prodding and taking up valuable time that can be spent on actual paying customers. Even worse, Saturdays are one of your busiest days, half the town is off work and the other half takes their lunch break right around the time the Smiths (your new favorite couple) decide to come in for their tastings.

This leads to you bouncing around all over your cafe, from constantly checking on the smiths, to taking orders at the counter, to preparing and serving orders, to checking on others sitting around to.. well it’s safe to say that Saturdays are your busiest days. Days that end with you cuddling with Apollo (your adorable, emotional support pitbull) and watching a corny rom-com. But here’s a secret that stays just between you and Apollo…deep down you love Saturdays. Not because of the rush of business that you get although that certainly doesn't hurt. Not because you close early on Weekends. Not even because the kind old Bartender, Vander, next door invites you to dinner with his family each Saturday evening (but it’s very close). It’s because once the Smiths leave, and you wipe the counter off for the last time, and you begin to turn off all the ovens and lights, you hear your door ring one last time…and in walks a tall, broad-shouldered, sweaty, cowgirl with a grin on features.

Sevika…

Sevika who came to this town a few years before you. Sevika who all but refuses to talk about her hometown. Sevika who may seem stand-offish at first glance but after a batch of your homemade chocolate chunk cookies opened right up. Sevika who always brings Apollo treats when she stops by for your late-night gossip sessions and early-morning strolls. Sevika who, despite her aloof exterior, cares so much...almost too a fault. Sevika, who insists on walking you home on weekdays when you close later in the evening. Sevika who always nags you for not hiring more help for the shop. Sevika is the hypocrite who works herself to death on that farm by herself. Sevika who you’ve caught knocked out in the stables not once but twice. Sevika who you can’t help but smile at as you drag her tired ass back home and tuck her in. Sevika who you’ve been in love with for a year and will never tell because you’d never risk the bond you two have built. More than friends but not quite lovers.

(When you told Vander that part, he let out a hearty laugh and said “Sounds more like your own personal hell but to each their own, I guess.” Curse him and his old gay man wisdom)

“You about ready to go?” Sevika asks, settling into a chair closest to the counter as you continue cleaning. You and she walked over to Vander and Silco’s house every night to enjoy their family dinner and game nights. Sevika says she only does it so that she doesn’t have to bring a gift (she takes credit for the pastries you bring to dinner every time) but everyone but you knows it’s because she’s completely whipped for and can’t help but follow you around like a lost puppy.

“I’m almost finished, I just gotta pack the cookies for tonight and I’ll be ready,” you say eyes searching for a box, you pretend not to notice the way Sevika lights up. Your cookies have always been her favorite but she pretends to be indifferent to all your baking. “Yeah? What kind?” She says, trying to sound unbothered but you know how eager she is. You slide her one of your “Cinnamon Vanilla” cookies on a napkin and put the rest of them in a to-go box.

By the time you reach the door, Sevika has devoured the cookie and throws the crumpled napkin away into the trash. Neither you nor Sevika are particularly chatty people but that changes the minute you two get around each other, your walks are spent chatting and joking sometimes complaining. Today, however, they’re spent bickering. “I don't see why you won't just hire some help, you're running yourself ragged doing this all by yourself, doll” Sevika drags her hand through her short hair, you don't see why she’s stressing herself out over your problems..So what if you don't want some inexperienced rando running around the shop you worked so hard to create? “You just don’t get it, Sev. You don't let anyone work on your farm and I’ve caught you passed out and exhausted more times than I can count” The truth is it was only twice but no one needs to know that.

As you approach the door to Vander and Silco’s house, you can hear the chaos from the inside of the house, Vander’s godchildren, Powder and Violet. The two girls are always getting into some kind of trouble, either with each other or with the rest of town. You’ve lost count of how many times they’ve come running into your shop to hide from some bar owner or god forbid a cop they’ve pissed off. Before you can knock, Sevika grabs your hand softly and turns you toward her. You hadn’t realized how close your bodies were until then, your eyes slowly dragged over her figure. From her chiseled biceps to her strong, broad shoulders (slightly scarred from carrying stacks of wood on them all day) to her beautiful face, the face you see when you close your eyes at night. And oh god her eyes… it’s like there's a whole other world in them, they’re your favorite thing about her. She’s so expressive with them, she thinks she can mask her emotions well but anyone who knows her knows her eyes can never keep a secret. You feel your whole body freeze as you stare into them, a look of sincerity on her face. “Listen” her voice is low, her grip has moved from your hand to your upper arm “I don’t want to tell you what to do or how to run your business. But I hate seeing you so tired, and lately, that’s all you’ve been, sugar. I just figured if you got some help around the shop, then maybe I’d see that bubbly little baker girl that I miss so much.” The last part comes out more like a confession, and you feel your heartbeat pick up. No one’s ever cared that much, and suddenly you feel your body throw caution to the wind.

You press a soft kiss to Sevika’s lips before you have a chance to realize what you’re doing. Sevika makes a surprised sound against your lips before relaxing and wrapping another hand around your waist, pulling you into her more as the kiss becomes more passionate. “OH GOD YUCK!” You hear a squeaky voice shout, you and Sevika immediately pull apart to see a disgusted powder at the door…you must not have heard it open. “Oh, shit-“ you curse yourself “Sorry pow-pow, I brought cookies!” You say trying to lighten the mood and erase the embarrassment from tonight, reaching in your bag you pull out the box and give it to the young girl.

Powder glares at you both before taking the cookies and walking inside, as you’re about to follow her Sevika grabs your hand one last time and whispers in your ear

“You’re not off the hook yet, Pumpkin..let’s talk after dinner”

(this is my first time writing but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head)

[vervepain]

Supercorp AU idea where when Clark and Lex were best friends, Clark was a decent cousin and would have Kara stay with him a Lois for a few weeks in the summer. Except he like does have a full time job? And is a superhero? And Lois is super around and cooks and stuff…on the part of the weekend where Perry White isn’t on her for 17 different deadlines. But you know who is free? LEX’s LITTLE SISTER. Who is Kara’s age and home from boarding school and whose mom says she needs to socialize more.

So what did Kara Danvers do for a month every summer from age 13-18? Get dropped off at Luthor Manor to hang out with her cousin’s best friend’s depressed sister. And then what happened? They actually got along okay. Becuase they were both hyper intelligent sapphics who were criticized for being awkward and having weird interests like biotechnology. Or deep space quantum navigation. And it would have been 100% okay. Except when Kara was 16 she showed up and Lena, who was basically her best friend ever, and knew she was an alien, and was super okay with it, Lena Luthor had spent the school year…growing breasts. And hip flesh. And thighs?

And suddenly Kara *cannot* function. Meanwhile Lena is constantly on the brink of losing it, becuase from her POV Kara was in Midvale for what ten months? And got an ab for each month. And those forearms. And still has the weird habit of making sure Lena is a comfortable temperature wherever they are which often ends in Lena wearing Kara’s hoodies. Which are a little big. Because Kara grew. Like four inches. In a year.

Meanwhile, every so often Lex and Clark insist they all do something together. Lois comes of course. Lex and Clark? No clue their younger counterparts are full of yearning. Lois? Convinced they are secretly dating, and sexually active, and Lois Lane is not going to sit there without Kara having had the talk.

Which leads to Lois giving Kara a hyperspecific sex talk. Which Kara finds to be a little weirdly focused on lesbian sex. Given that Kara…well…she’s maybe like going to be gay, but she’s not gay yet, because she hasn’t said it out loud except to the mirror sometimes. Lois even demonstrates using a dental dam on half a grapefruit. Which Kara would have been okay with not witnessing. At then end Lois says, “I don’t care what you and Lena do as long as it is safe and consensual.”

At which point Kara turns redder than her future cape. And explains that she and Lena are only friends. And Lois just blinks.

To go all the way, maybe Lex goes evil just as Lena starts college. She rushes to finish school while her mother acts as her proxy which is unideal. But as soon as she can take over she does. And the media is fascinated because this 22-year-old woman is running LCorp. Making it a force for good. But really Lena is trying to make enough of a name for herself outside the Luthor name she can move to national city and finally ask Kara to marry her. Because they remain best friends and nothing more.

Kara becomes Supergirl to save Alex, but also because when Lena becomes a CEO…suddenly Kara isn’t so sure being a personal assistant to Cat Grant will be enough to land her a date with her crush since age 14.

So yes…an idea I had. When I should have been writing a term paper.

[joontroverted]

eavesdropper

toji x reader (inspired by this!)

genre : fluff, domestic cuteness

the two of you are settled in bed. you're deeply engrossed in the manhua you've been reading, while toji is sitting by you on his phone, scrolling through it and jabbing it with his pointer finger occasionally.

he calls your name.

"hmm?" you respond, still absorbed in the new chapter.

"baby," he repeats, causing you to glance up at him for a moment. he's wearing his glasses for once and he's holding his phone at arm's length from him. you go back to your manhua, knowing that it is probably going to be about some ridiculous whatsapp message someone forwarded, or some new internet trend he can't understand.

"yes, toj?"

"it's megumi's special day tomorrow. are we doing anything?"

this causes you to actually look up and balk at him. "fushiguro toji. our son's birthday is in winter. we're in the middle of summer right now," you say sternly.

"i know when our son's birthday is," he grumbles, turning to look at you, his green eyes narrowed, annoyed that you could think that he doesn't.

"i mean gay people pride month. it says here it starts tomorrow, and i thought you of all people would know about?" he sneers.

you almost choke on your own saliva at that. "it's... yeah, it is tomorrow, but i don't think we need to do anything for him!"

toji raises his eyebrows at that. "is it because you think he is not gay or is it because you think that being gay is nothing worth celebrating?"

you gasp. "old man, you will not make me sound bigoted in my own bed, in my own house! i don't think we should do anything pride related because megumi has never brought up his sexuality! the boy doesn't even like when we sing him happy birthday, you think he's going to want to wake up to us decorating the house with rainbow streamers?"

"well, what if he hasn't come out to us because we've never done anything for him on gay people pride month- "

"i just want to let you know that it's not gay people pride month, it's just pride month, genius."

"what if he's not proud?" ponders toji, finally dropping his phone and folding his arms together. the action makes his tits bounce and bunch up together, and before you know it, you're reaching for them and squeezing.

"you should take your shirt off, you know, for... ventilation."

"uh huh," he says dryly, and in one swift motion, he has both your wrists captured in one big hand of his. "will you focus now?"

"yes sir," you sigh.

"good girl. now, do you think him and the itadori kid have something going on?"

you side eye him at that. "someone's been nosey."

toji is a contractual worker, and on the days that he doesn't work, he either goes outside by the lake with his beer or sits inside on the couch with his beer. and eavesdrops on your kids, apparently.

"oh toj. you didn't grow up with a best friend, so i'm sure you're just confused. sure, megumi hangs out with him all the time... "

"and goes over to his place for sleepovers," he adds, leaning in.

"and watches his favourite movies just for him... " you suggest.

"and plans weekend activities with him," he says, with a sly look.

"and spent the day locked in his room when yuuji had to cancel because of basketball practice... " you mutter, casting your mind back to all these incidents. "oh my god."

toji's lips are pulled into a full smirk now.

"megumi is... definitely not straight. oh my god! how did i not notice?" you exclaim, sitting up straight. "it is so his month tomorrow!"

"that's what i've been saying, darling! the kid deserves a little treat, at least!"

you're still flabbergasted. you didn't think he was straight. you didn't think he wasn't straight. you just didn't think about it. you had always assumed that megumi would bring his partner home one day, but what if that's what he's been doing all along?

"a little treat? he's getting all his favourite food tomorrow!"

toji laughs and lets go of your wrists finally, cupping your hands in his and bringing them up to his chest and squeezing. the plush and bouncy muscles truly soothe your mind.

"there there," he says, as you sink into his embrace, his warm chest still trapped under his tank, "you've been busy."

"i am his mother," you grumble, kneading at his tits. you lay your head on his shoulder, his spiky black hair tickling your nose. he smells like his eucalyptus soap. you take a long, deep sniff of it, and get up.

you clamber out of bed, stuffing your feet into your slippers as the warmth of the bed and your husband slowly leave you.

"where ya goin, honey?"

"marinating the meat. then i'm cutting some vegetables so i don't waste time with prep tomorrow. and you. get up. i don't care if you cut the vegetables uneven, you're still- oh!"

toji has gotten up and picked you up bridal style. he's in his wifebeater, old old boxer shorts, both of which he usually shucks off before sleeping. his glasses sit wonkily on the bridge of his nose.

"at your service, mama," he says in a low voice, curling you up and dropping a kiss on your neck.

something curls in your stomach at the gesture and his voice, and your toes curl. you just don't have the time for that now.

"good boy," you say, squishing his cheek and giving it a smack. what a life. your sweet, sexy husband feeding you crucial details on your son's life, all while being strong enough to lift you like it's no sweat. "to the kitchen we go!"

he playfully bounces you a bit as he takes you to the kitchen, your cheek smushed against his chest. "so, do you wanna hear about what happened in tsumiki's dance group? those girls are operating like seasoned politicians."

"toji, you shouldn't!" you laugh, smacking his chest. "yes. yes, actually, you absolutely have to."

[atimeofyourlife]

Steve being the one who is actually a fountain of queer knowledge because he has a gay uncle in San Francisco or New York, one of the cities that had the biggest queer communities.

Robin not having much information because she's a closeted teenage lesbian who can't drive, so she has nowhere to source that information without raising the suspicions of her parents.

Eddie doesn't have the chance because he can't afford to spend weekends in Indianapolis or Chicago, because weekends mean parties, and parties are one of the best times to deal. He might go occasionally, but just hitting up a bar to find a dude to hook up with, not getting into queer theory because he doesn't really care to. He doesn't bother to learn about hanky code or anything else, because he's not interested. All he's interested in is getting a little action.

But Steve? He spent a lot of time with his uncle, Hank, while growing up. Anytime his family was in the area, they would stay with Hank. Sure, Steve's parents would try to explain his partner, Joe, as a friend or a roommate, but Steve always knew. He could see how in love they were, even more than his parents.

It became normal for him. He heard the words that other people would throw around, how they would talk about how dangerous, how disgusting two men together was. But he couldn't understand why people thought so badly about it. Because Hank and Joe were so happy together and they weren't hurting anyone.

When he was twelve, they were the first people he told when he had the conflicting feelings of having a crush on a pretty girl named Annika in the grade above, but also really wanting to kiss Tommy every time the other boy laughed at one of his jokes. Joe and Hank just listened to him, then taught him about bisexuality. That it was perfectly normal to like both. They gave him gentle warnings, that he would have to be careful because people were cruel.

And because his parents had left him with them for a couple of weeks, they took advantage of it to introduce Steve to other people. They took him to a tiny queer bookshop that was run by a friend of theirs, giving him a space to learn in safety. Because of them, he met people of so many different orientations lesbians, bisexuals, gay men. Self-proclaimed dykes and faggots. Transexuals, men who were once women and women who were once men¹ and people that pushed the boundaries of gender entirely. He felt in awe of all these people, but also loved and accepted by everyone he met.

A few years later, the summer of '82, age 15 and between freshman and sophomore year, he was sat down for a more serious conversation. The day after he arrived, Hank and Joe sat him down for a serious talk about safe sex, in way more detail than what he got from his parents, which was just a pack of condoms appearing in his bathroom on his fifteenth birthday, with a note saying to use them so he wouldn't get a girl pregnant. The talk emphasized the need for a barrier during any type of sex, and brought up the very real risk of GRID, which had yet to be renamed AIDS², to point out why he had to be incredibly careful with everyone he had sex with. But they also made a point to reassure him that they were both okay, that he didn't have to worry about them. They made sure that he knew that they were always there for him, just a phone call away if he ever had any concerns or questions.

A year later, at 16, they decided he was ready for more information. They provided him with pamphlets and zines, covering everything from rights movements to AIDS to secret codes. He took an interest in the hanky code, but felt a little intimidated about what some of the colors meant. They also provided him with a fake id that declared that he was twenty one and that his name was Mark. While he was staying with them, he joined them out in the community. Meeting the people affected by AIDS, learning about the real effects of it and not just the few scare stories that were breaking through on the news. Hearing more stories of lived life, getting a better understanding of the people around him.

Just a few months later, November '83. When everything went to shit. Steve was terrified when he saw the photos Jonathan had taken from outside his house and developed in the school dark room. He couldn't help getting stuck on the what if? What if it wasn't Nancy he had in his room? What if it had been that night when he and Tommy got a little too drunk and kissed each other? What if he'd finally got the nerve to bring a guy home? His life could have been destroyed in seconds by an asshole being a creep.

He became more on guard, scared that at any point someone could be taking photos in his backyard. Then seeing Jonathan with Nancy in her room, it pushed him further. With the fight the next day, he just wanted to make his words hurt. He dug deep and threw out accusations that he'd never wanted to say. Allowing his anger and fear to take over. The moment the word queer left his mouth, he felt an uneasy sense of regret. Accusing someone else of being what he was, as if it was a bad thing.

After it was all over, the details were shared, the cover stories were given, the paperwork declaring that nothing had happened had been signed, Steve felt lost and alone. Even after apologizing, he still felt dirty for calling Jonathan queer. After a few days, he breaks and calls Hank and Joe, and tells them, well not everything, but what he can. The photos, the camera, the fight. What he said to Jonathan. They understood his anger and his fear. They disagreed with his choice of words, but told him that if he'd apologized and meant it, and it had been accepted, there was no point in him continuing to beat himself up about it. That he couldn't change the past, but he had to try and be better in the future.

The following summer, 1984, he joined them with a new hatred and fear of the government. He felt safer with them, not feeling like he was looking over his shoulder all the time. But he was also so worried, what if the Upside Down came back when he wasn't there to help. He threw himself into helping others, knowing there were so many ways that the government was willing to screw over citizens. Wanting to do the little he could when he could. It brought him some peace of mind, being able to do something.

After Starcourt, after getting discharged from the hospital, Steve confides in Robin. He tells her about Hank and Joe. About how much he'd learnt from them. He tells her that he's bisexual, a word she was unfamiliar with, but she embraces him anyway. He spins a story of all the different people he'd met, people that proved it could be okay for people like them.

It formed an even deeper bond between them, a shared understanding that they couldn't find in anyone else their age. They share secrets about crushes, about realizations. Judging how attractive customers are together once they got the jobs at Family Video. Steve showed Robin the zines, helping her pick up more pieces of information, about how many others there were out there.

Steve clocked Vickie pretty quickly, almost certain she was bisexual like he was. Robin struggled to believe him, not wanting to get her hopes up, or to risk getting hurt.

When Eddie crashed into their lives during the spring break from hell, Steve found himself falling hard and fast. He'd noticed the black bandana Eddie wore tucked into his back left pocket, and wanted it. He had never considered being into s&m, but would be willing to take anything Eddie gave him.

He tried to bring it up subtly to Eddie, only to be met with confusion. Even trying less subtle ways of questioning it, Eddie still didn't seem to get it. Steve had to ask if he was flagging, and Eddie responded by asking what flagging was. Steve felt mortified, and stuttered about it being a code, and he thought Eddie was gay. Eddie assured him that he was gay, but still had no clue what Steve was talking about with flagging.

Steve showed Eddie the zines as well, going through all the different colors of the hanky code. Eddie got a little embarrassed when he realized what he'd been signalling, but some of the interactions he'd had with guys the few times he'd been to a gay bar made a lot more sense.

It took a few more days after that for Eddie to realize what Steve had been getting at by bringing up him flagging. There was another awkward, and slightly embarrassing conversation to confirm that yes, they were into each other, and no, neither of them were actually into s&m.

(And of course, Hank and Joe got a kick out of the story when they were the first ones Steve told, other than Robin.)

¹I wrote it this way, as it would have been a way that twelve year old could understand different gender identities in 1979. Different language and terminology was used. I believe that it is up to individual trans people for how they describe and consider themselves pre and post coming out and transition, as it is a very personal thing. I'm non-binary and I consider anything about myself under the age of 17 to be a girl, because that's how I identified at that time. ²(AIDS was known by a bunch of different names, some less kind than others, including GRID [Gay-related immune deficiency] and 4H disease [Heroin users, homosexuals, hemophiliacs and Haitians], until the summer of 1982. The name AIDS was proposed on July 27th 1982, and came into use by the CDC in September of that year. The term HIV came into use in 1986.)

This was supposed to be a quick little headcanon, and it ended up taking me nearly a month to write 1.5k words. And I now want to write so many parts about Steve with his relationship to Hank and Joe. They're the gay uncles everyone deserves.

[humiliatemeplesse]

He confided to his uncle that he's gay. They had spent so much time together and were close so he thought it would be okay to share this with him because it was making him crazy not being able to tell anyone in their little homophobic Southern town. As soon as he said it it only took his uncle a couple of beats to say "Where'd you get that from? There's no fags in our family. Do you know the beating you'll get from your father if he finds out? You know him with his rebel Confederate flag on his truck and his Trump MAGA stickers. After he beats the shit outta you he'll send you packing, he won't accept a faggot living in his house. Look, I won't tell him but under one condition. Whenever you are here visiting you have to do whatever I tell you, whether you like it or not. Now a man like myself shouldn't have to be cleaning his own house and running his own errands when there's a faggot around. So you'll be doing that every weekend when you visit. Oh, yeah, did I mention? You're going to tell your parents you'll be visiting here every weekend. And another thing you're going to start doing for me. Take off my shoes and get on your knees and massage my sweaty socked feet. They get sore from being stuck in those leather dress shoes that I have to wear all day at work, and you're going to make them feel really good and relaxed. I said get on your knees. There you go, now start massaging them, do a really good job. And you don't stop unless I tell you to. Get your face in there too, kiss 'em and sniff 'em. That'll put you in your place like a dirty faggot should be. Now you kiss and sniff and massage my sweaty dirty socked feet and I'm going to read for a few hours. Don't stop or I will tell your father, and you'll be wandering down the highway looking for a job at a McDonald's or having to sell yourself to some dirty old fat fag for sex. Do you want that? No, I didn't think so. So go ahead, get massaging, sniffing, kissing my dirty sock feet. And thank me for being so kind as to not tell your father. And, thank me for allowing you to worship my stinking socks.

[anothermaletfwriter]

Hey broo, my gay nerd roommate was insisting me so much to go with him to a new library and I finally agreed to 'cause I was bored and maybe I would see a hot busty babe around to have some fun with, but ever since entering this library hes been really annoying me about some weird smell, like WTF bro??

You and your roommate, Gavin, never really got along. As the pinnacle of a straight alpha bro, you had weekly ragers at the Pi Alpha Phi house with your fellow Asian alpha bros. With them, you all worked out together every day, and brought home a different woman or two every weekend. While you had free time in your room, you often flexed and grunted in front of your mirror for hours, appreciating your masculinity and Adonis physique. You didn’t wear those unnecessary chemicals called deodorants because they would mask your alpha scent. But your musk needed to be out in the world to show you are a true straight alpha male, much to the constant complaints of Gavin.

Unlike you, Gavin was a puny gay nerd. Not an ounce of muscle on his tiny frame. Things were awkward between the two of you since you had nothing in common. He studied frequently in your room and spent the weekends all night watching his little gay shows, often an obstacle whenever you tried to bring a horny hottie with you home from the bars. He paid attention in class and asked unnecessary questions about the lecture while you spent most of the class time flirting with the women next to you and joking with your bros rather than paying attention to your expensive education. You threw parties like no one could while he read poems at open-mic night in gay lounges. Despite you inviting him to your parties on multiple occasions, he always declined, stating he’s not that type of guy. While you jerked your girthy long member to hot women with their bouncing tits and wet pussy on your phone, he played with his meager two incher to men fucking each other. It never bothered you but sometimes you wished he was a straight alpha bro like you. He was missing out on the many pleasures of being a straight alpha male: the woman, the domination and the masculinity. He was a good guy but you often hoped one day he would flip the switch and become one of the bros.

Today, you accompanied him to a brand new library, which only nerds like him could ecstatic about. The library was nothing different from any other libraries so as you entered, you scratched your head, wondering why he was so excited about this. Probably some stupid nerd academic shit.

You picked a table adjacent to a group of sorority girls, sitting with a front row view of them. Gavin sat opposite from you, his back turned from the girls. They wouldn't have interested him anyway.

While Gavin typed textbook notes away on his iPad, you were staring at the group of hot chicks, pretending to study on your laptop. Like you, they weren’t truly studying, having their expensive Macbooks out while they gossiped about the latest mean girl drama in their sororities. You were imagining fucking their mouths and sliding your dick between their breasts and in their pussies when your focus was shattered.

Gavin called out your name.

You panicked, thinking you were caught. Oh shit. You quickly redirect your focus to him and his concerned face.

Gavin wiped his glasses while covering his nose with his hand, “Owen, do you smell that?”

You shook your head. The only thing you could smell was the barely touched sugar-loaded coffee that the sorority girls had, “Sorry bro, you know I don’t do deodorant,” You say as you stretched your arms, flexing you did arms yesterday.

“It’s not that. It’s more nutty. I’m not allergic to nuts though.”

"Just ignore it. It'll go away."

"Sorry, I can’t handle it. My entire body feels like its glowing,” He coughed before running off to the bathroom.

While you entertained the idea of staying behind and flirting with the group of girls, you were more concerned about Gavin. After all, he was your roommate. As you followed him, you noticed how he had grown in height. While you recalled him being more than a foot shorter than you, he appeared to be at your height now. Strange. Why would it be strange since he was always as tall as you? You were certain he got taller and you weren’t seeing things as you noticed he outgrew his jeans with his shins showing.

By the time you caught up with him in the bathroom, Gavin was frantically splashing water on his face, shrieking quietly. His jawline was a lot sharper and angular, slowly resembling an alpha bro. His jaw was not always like that.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“I can still smell it. I feel like I’m burning up,” Gavin stepped away from the sink. He looked at you, his face looking more masculine with hard facial features and angles. Cold sink water dripped down from his sharp chin, “Help me out here, bro," His voice dropping octaves as his Adam's apple bulged out.

“I got your back, bro,” You helped him take of his sweat-drenched hoodie, revealing the ill-fitting tank top underneath. You couldn’t help but believe your eyes as you watched the rest of his body transform.

The tank top that once draped loosely over his chest was being squashed by his inflating pecs and a hard six pack that poked through the thin material. He squeezed his solid chest as the growth continued in the rest of his body. His shoulders cracked as his once stick arms that lacked definition began to burst with muscle, pumping up his veins that fueled testosterone to his biceps, which he cockily flexed instinctively. His pits reeked of manly musk like yours. He filled up his pants as his calves exploded into mountains from rigid leg work while his glutes firmed up, no longer flat. You looked down on his crotch and noticed he actually had a bulge for once. You figured it was as long as yours, the perfect length and girth for breeding women. He flexed and admired his ripped body and the alpha sensation he was emanating, he pulled up his tank top with his hand sliding down from his firm pecs to his rock hard abs in a cocky display. He even traced the peaks of his biceps, squeezing it like he was checking if he was dreaming. He resembled an alpha like you but he wasn’t one, he was a nerd.

You no longer remembered the times you came home from a frat parties to him snuggled in his bed watching cute gay romance shows but instead he was jerking his extensive member to straight porn, notably the ones you had recommended to him. He was your best friend in university. But you guys were basically strangers with opposite interests. You shared the same classes together but it’s not like that mattered, as you two always goofed off with each other while ogling at the women. You recalled the excitement when you find out the both of you were accepted into your frat and the week long bender and bar-hopping you two went on afterwards to celebrate. In the gym, you two always had a competition to see who could bench press more, it was a 50-50 chance so your other bros would bet on you two equally. Every party, event and rager you attended had Gavin tag along. You didn’t even have to ask him to come with you. That’s how much of best bros you two are. Even the women you would share around together to use and breed.

He washed his face, leaving whatever was remaining of his homosexuality down the sink. He was now a total straight alpha bro like you. His pecs bounced as he walks towards you, placing a meaty hand on your shoulder, stating he was fine now and the smell was gone.

Before you two left the bathroom, he asked, “You think we can bring those sorority girls sitting behind me home?”

“Of course, bro. You don’t have to ask” You patted his muscular back.

“Just asking, bro. You’re the expert of doing it after all.” He let out an extended, douchy laugh and so did you do.

You left the bathroom with your straight alpha best friend roommate with the successful goal of breeding those sorority girls. There was no friendship better than this. It was up to you and him to assert your dominating nature in the world and conquer women and fill them with your alpha seeds.

[fabbyf1]

besties,

i was debating on whether to share this or not - because it's very personal and has nothing to do with this fandom - but i've always kept it real with you all, and i wanted to let you know why i'm going to be MIA for a bit.

my grandfather died unexpectedly in his sleep last night. he was pretty healthy, all things considered, so this came as a shock to all of us. on one hand, i'm glad he went peacefully and didn't have to suffer or spend ages in a hospital, but on the other hand, i wish we had some warning.

my grandparents raised me and my brother as if we were their own, and i spent more time at their house than i did in my own childhood home. i'm not close to either of my parents, but i never felt like i was alone growing up because of my wonderful grandparents.

they were there for me every time i needed them, or needed a parent, or needed someone to listen to me cry and whine about my teenage problems. they made me meals, and bought me my first guitar, and made me believe that nothing was ever out of reach. they taught me all of my life skills, gave me my sense of humor and potty mouth, and always encouraged me to do whatever i wanted to do.

my pop knew that i liked to write, and while he didn't quite understand what fanfiction was, he always asked me how my writing was going and if i had written the next great novel yet. he was always asking me how our family book was coming along (which is NOT being written) and liked to joke that i should title it "My Grandmother: A Pain In The Ass" just to rile my grandma up.

and it worked, every single time.

i don't ever plan on writing a book about his life, but we loved to talk about writing together. i'm not sure how he'd feel knowing that i wrote explicit gay fanfiction for the masses, but i'd like to think he'd get a good laugh out of it and tell me something like, "Well ain't that a fucking choice."

here's to you, pop. you wonderfully grumpy old man.

it's weird to think that my grandparents are gone now, when they had such an impact on my life. grief is weird, and sadness is weird, and i don't always know where to put it. when my grandma died a few years ago, i sat down and wrote vapor over the course of a few weeks. now... i'm not so sure what i'll do or where i'll put my grief. i guess I'll let you know when i figure it out.

for now, i'm going to be traveling home for the first time in years to say goodbye and see the house one last time before it's sold. i know a lot of you have sent a bunch of asks this weekend about what i'm working on, trying to inspire me to write, etc. and i wanted you to know that i wasn't ignoring you... life has just gotten in the way.

see you soon, fam.

[quintessenceofdust88]

Nonna Rosa fixes it

[Now on AO3!] Okayyy, it's officially not the weekend anymore, but only for like five minutes, so technically I'm on time! This got totally away from me, and I had to actually force myself to end it where I did. Nonna Rosa took the narrative from my hands and said 'I'll take it from here', and good for her. Not to be dramatic but I love her. Anyway, if any Italian-speaking people read this: I AM SO SORRY. This is all Collins dictionary or Google Translate, I don't speak a word of Italian and I'll be very glad to correct any mistakes you might notice ♥ I hope you guys enjoy it! if you want to know more about Nonna Rosa, send me an ask, I have looots of headcanons for her (and Tommy's childhood). Here you go:

A week after breaking up with Evan, Tommy is still feeling like shit. He can barely sleep, anything he tries to eat tastes like sawdust, and he feels like he’s living on autopilot. He goes to work, he comes back home, he tries to eat, he tries to sleep, rinse and repeat. Nothing else matters, there’s nothing else he feels like doing. He doesn’t answer Howie’s texts asking how he’s doing (he answered the first one, telling Howie not to worry about him, but can’t do more than that); he completely ignores Eddie’s invitation for Muay Thai and basketball, and he comes up with an excuse as to why he can’t make karaoke bar that Thursday. And yet, there’s one thing he can’t put off, as much as he wishes to: talking to his Nonna. 

Tommy calls his grandmother at least once a week; she still lives in Indiana, in the same house he spent most of his childhood in, and he knows his uncle Bart visits often. But he likes to hear from her himself. Visiting her was a rare occasion, and the last time he was able to was about four months ago. The minute he had stepped in, Nonna had asked him if he was ‘innamorato’, because he was looking so much happier than usual.

And he knows she’ll perceive his sadness just as quick, if not quicker. The woman has always been able to read him like an open book. She’s probably the only person alive who can; he’s always made sure to keep his layers hidden from everyone else, even from… 

Well. Doesn’t matter now, does it? 

Fact is, that if he misses his call with Nonna, it’ll be even worse. She’ll know something’s up, and he doesn’t put past her to fly across the country to check on him (he’s always been the favorite grandson and everyone knows it). So it’s best to get it over with. With a heavy sigh, he sits down on his couch (and tries not to think about how empty it feels when it’s just him in there) and rings her up, bracing himself.

“Pronto? Tommasino?” She answers the call, as always with the camera too close to her face, and that at least brings a smile to his face.

“Nonna, you need to stretch your arm a little. Remember, like Charlie showed you?” He asks with a chuckle; Charlie being his cousin’s daughter, Charlotte, who taught Nonna how to FaceTime so she could ‘see Tommasino’s pretty face more often’, in her own words. 

She stretches her arm and Tommy gets a good look at her. Nonna looks the same as always, sharp blue eyes in a soft face that’s wrinkled both from age and from a lifetime of smiles. Her hair is wrapped in hair rollers and tucked safely behind a red bandana. Tommy misses her fiercely, and wishes more than ever that he could get wrapped in one of her hugs. 

They always did wonders for him when he was a little boy who used to climb trees and get scrapes and bruises; when he was a scared eleven-year-old missing his mother (and as a grown-up he can appreciate Nonna was hurting at least as much as him, having lost her daughter, but still never let it show) and dealing with an angry abusive father; when he was a scared eighteen-year-old, before leaving the only home he’d ever known to join the Army. And when he was a scared 33-year-old man, coming out as gay to his 75 year-old-grandmother, afraid of being rejected by the one person alive who truly loved him, and Nonna had stood on her tiptoes, pulled him into one of those hugs, and told him all she ever wanted for Tommy was to see him happy, and that she would always love him. 

A hug from his grandmother had always made Tommy feel like the world was an easier place to be faced, and right now, that’s exactly what he needs. And his longing must show in his face, because she’s frowning at him, her eyes full of concern. 

“Oh, Tommasino” She says softly. “What’s wrong, bambino mio? You look so sad” She asks, and to Tommy’s horror, he finds his eyes filling up. Nonna has that way of bringing out every emotion he tries to repress.

“Everything’s wrong, Nonna, and it’s all my fault” He blurts out before he can stop himself, and the look on his grandmother’s face tells Tommy she’d be placing a sizable plate of cake and a cup of strong coffee in front of him if she could.

“You have a habit of saying things are your fault even when they aren't, so I'm afraid I'll need the entire story, my boy” She says gently, and Tommy watches as she sits down by her kitchen table (the same kitchen table where he did most of his school homework, the same kitchen table from where he always used to steal a biscotti while they were still warm), supporting her face in her hand and turning those sharp blue eyes at the phone screen. Tommy swears he can feel them pierce through his very soul. “What happened? Is it your Evanino?”

The question sends a knife right through Tommy's chest as he imagines what could have been. Gosh, Nonna would have loved Evan (who doesn't love Evan, you idiot?, he tells himself), and he knows deep in his heart Evan would have loved her as well. Every time Tommy would talk about her (which he did fairly often; he was a grandma's boy and had no shame about it), Evan would get a wistful expression on his face and tell Tommy that she sounded awesome.

He had been planning on taking Evan with him next time he managed to visit her, not wanting to introduce them through the phone. Now it's for the best he didn't; at least Nonna won't have to miss him like Tommy does.

“He… he's not mine anymore, Nonna,” He admits, his voice thick with emotion. “We broke up”

“What?! Ma comme?! You were so happy last time we talked!” She asked, and of course Tommy was happy; it was the day before their six month anniversary, and he had been so full of excitement. “Was he not happy? Is that why you're blaming yourself, Tomasino?”

A smile as bright as sunshine crosses Tommy's mind. A smile that only started to fade once Tommy told him he knew how it ended. A smile that had become his personal beacon of light in the past six months. A smile he misses like a lost limb.

“He… he was happy” He says, because that much he knows to be true; Evan was happy with him, Tommy made sure of that. His grandmother frowns at that, and Tommy doesn't blame her; the story seems convoluted, feels convoluted, even to himself, and he lived it.

“Thomas, you have to help your old grandmother, because I cannot understand what is the problem. If you were happy and he was happy, then why are you not together anymore?”

“Because he asked me to move in with him” Tommy says, and that doesn't seem to clear the situation for her. If anything, her frown deepens, and she reaches for a piece of bread, fiddling with it; Nonna could never keep her hands still, especially when she was nervous, and Tommy had inherited that from her. 

“Does that mean something different when it’s two men?” She asks, completely genuine, and that earns a surprised chuckle from Tommy. 

“No, Nonna” Tommy says, and all of a sudden the urge to laugh is gone again; it never lasts long, not after Evan. “It… It means the same”

“Very well, and you said no? That’s why he ended things?” She asks, and Tommy sighs brokenly, the memories of the night no less painful than when it happened.

“No. I… I broke up with him, Nonna. He asked me to move in with him, and I didn’t just say no. I… I broke up with him," Tommy admits with a heavy heart. 

“Tesoro, you do realize you are not making any sense? You and your boy were happy; he asked you to move in with him, and instead you broke up with him. Then you show up looking like your heart was broken and tell me it is your fault. What am I missing, bambino?”

“I have a house, Nonna!” He snaps, finally being able to voice the things that have been stewing in his heart and mind since that night. “I have a house, and he lives in a rented loft, and it makes no sense for me to move in with him!”

Nonna doesn’t answer right away. She chews thoughtfully on her bread, letting a small silence fall between the pair of them before she eventually sighs and answers him.

“Benne, you have a point, it wouldn’t make sense. But that isn’t the whole problem, is it, Tommasino?” Nonna adds shrewdly. “You could have talked it out, explained that to him. So what made you walk out of the best thing that happened to you in years?”

Tommy can always trust Nonna to lay things down exactly as they are, no matter how painful it sounds. She’s right, he did walk out of the best thing that happened to him in years, maybe ever, and it’s getting harder and harder to justify that decision to himself. 

“N-Nonna, I was… I was falling so in love with him” He tells her, and feels tears starting to prickle the corner of his eyes.

“Yes, I’ve known that since last time you were here” Nonna says impatiently. “That’s not a reason to leave, Thomas; that’s a reason to stay”

“Only if he loved me back” He says automatically, and Nonna crosses her arms, unimpressed. 

“And who says he doesn’t? Did you ask him?” She asks sharply, and Tommy sighs. This conversation is taking a completely different route than what he expected. 

“I didn’t have to, Nonna. I… I just know it, okay? I was his first relationship with a man. I cannot be the last, that’s not how it works. And I… I thought I was okay with it, that I could enjoy it while it lasted, but… But I didn’t expect to love him this much” He admits, as much to himself as to her. It’s all his fault, really, for falling so deeply, flying too close to the Sun. “I-it’s safer to break my own heart now than to let him do it when I’m way too deep to recover. N-not that I’m recovering all too well, but… could be worse” He finishes, already wiping the few tears that inconveniently decided to rush down his cheeks. 

If Tommy expects his grandmother to nod sympathetically at that and coo at him (he kinda does; she has a habit of doing that when he cries), he has another thing coming. Nonna scoffs loudly, hitting the table with her hand, strong from decades of kneading bread. The noise is enough to startle Tommy out of tears.

“Thomas Domenico Kinard, I didn’t know me and your dear Mamma, may God have her soul, had raised an estupido vigliacco!” She exclaims, her hand flailing loudly to emphasize her words. 

Tommy will be the first to admit his Italian is rusty, but he’s pretty sure she just called him a stupid coward. And. Ouch.

“Nonna!” He exclaims back, but she isn’t dissuaded. She tuts him with a sharp ‘Silenzio!’ and a raised finger, and Tommy shuts up right away. He knows that when Nonna starts, the best he can do is take the scolding, so he leans back on his couch, trying his best not to look like a chided boy who got caught stealing fruit from the neighbor’s orchard.

“You are my grandson, and I love you more than anything in this world. You are a good man with a wonderful heart, but you have one big problem, Tommaso. You always assume you know people’s feelings better than they do, and then you make your own decisions based on that without actually asking anyone. Remember when you decided I should move to California because you thought I was lonely here?” She asks, raising an eyebrow, and Tommy nods sheepishly. “Do you remember what I told you?”

“That if and when you wanted to move to California, you would let me know, but you were perfectly capable of making your own decisions” He mumbles back, the epic scolding from five years ago still fresh on his mind. 

“Esattamente. Now, I think your Evanino deserves the same courtesy. He is not a silly child, Thomas. If he wants you to be his last, if he loves you, who do you think you are to decide that he doesn’t?”

“But he never said he did,” Tommy replies stubbornly. “He… He never even told me he loved me, he just asked me to move in with him. It’s like… It’s like he wanted to prove a point, Nonna. That he could be… committed, or queer, or whatever, I don’t know. But he never said he loved me”

“Did you say it to him?” Nonna asks, and Tommy stares at her with his mouth agape. Damn this woman and her ability to ask the most uncomfortable questions. 

“N-no” He admits. “I… I was too afraid of him not saying it back”

“Hmmm” Nonna hums thoughtfully. “That’s your other problem, bambino mio. You think you don’t deserve to be loved. I blame that man for that” Nonna says with a scoff, and they both know exactly who she’s talking about; there’s no lost love between Rosa Lucciola and her ex-son-in-law, Brian Kinard, and the way he treated Tommy and his mother before she passed is the sole reason for it. 

“Well, that’s neither here nor there, Nonna” He says with a shrug, always uncomfortable when his father becomes even a small topic of conversation, but she tuts disapprovingly.

“Ah, isn’t it? Has it never occurred to you that maybe your Evanino could have the same problem? That he was as afraid as you to show his heart and have it broken?”

Tommy desperately wants to say that he thought about it, that it occurred to him; but it hasn’t. Evan is such a sunshine of a man, always so prone to smiles and loving gestures towards anyone he cares about, that Tommy never thought there could be insecurities there. Now it makes him feel selfish and stupid (or estupido as Nonna had so accurately called him). 

“Nonna…” Tommy says, his mind catching up to everything she said and a horrifying realization dawns on him. “What if he did love me back? Oh my God, did I fuck this up?!” He asks before he can stop himself. 

“Language! Do not take the Signore’s name and swear in the same sentence!” She chides him, and Tommy mutters ‘sorry’, but her look is impossibly fond. “But, well. Maybe you did; maybe you didn’t. Are you going to sit around and mope or try to find out?” Nonna challenges him. 

“W-what if he never loved me, Nonna? Or what if he did, but me walking out made him stop?” Tommy asks, not knowing which possibility scares him the most.

“What if he still does, Thomas?” Nonna counteracts. “What if he loves you and is too afraid to reach out because you already rejected him once, hm? Someone has to be brave, and he already was when he asked you to move in, bambino. Maybe it was a little impulsive, but his heart was in the right place; it was in your future together”

Tommy realizes Nonna is right. He can’t expect Evan to reach out (he realizes he was at some level, and he would have rushed to it; one call from Evan and Tommy would be right back to his life, ready to reheal his own heart when things inevitably went wrong, just for another glimpse of Evan Buckley’s personal sunshine); it’s his turn to fight for them. It’s his turn to be brave. 

“Ah, you finally realized it, hm?” Nonna says; something must be showing on his face, because there’s a satisfied smile on her face. “Fight for that boy, Thomas. Fight for your happiness, tesoro. Prove to your Nonna you are not estupido”

“Nonna, you are most definitely the best person on the planet, and I promise you didn’t raise a estupido. I’ll do right by Evan. By… By me. By both of us” Tommy promises to her, promises to himself. He blows a kiss to the screen of his cellphone, desperately wishing he could kiss her cheek in person. “Ti amo, Nonnina” (I love you, granny) 

“Ti amo, nipotini del mio cuore” (I love you, grandson of my heart) She tells him back, and a mischievous smirk appears on her face. “You better bring that boy here to try my rondelli before the year is over, you hear?”

“Dio, I hope so, Nonna” He tells her, and they say their goodbyes before hanging up. Tommy already misses her.

He holds his cellphone close to his heart, wondering if he should text Evan, but decides against it. This is too big for a text, too big for a call. He’ll go over in the morning, probably with a bouquet of flowers or whatever other extravagant gift he can come up with, ready to grovel and explain himself and beg for a second chance, even if it’s only to hear a ‘no’. Even if it’s only to let Evan yell at him and get the closure he deserves. Even if it’s only to get his already shattered heart broken into even more pieces. Tommy has to be brave.

After all, nonna and mamma didn’t raise a coward. 

(Evan doesn’t say no. And when Tommy explains, after several rounds of make-up sex, what made him change his mind, he promises to send Nonna a present. The present ends up being him and Tommy, because they go to Indiana for Christmas, and Evan falls in love with Nonna and her rondelli. Just like Tommy knew he would)

--

Tag list (let me know if I missed anyone! also if you want to be removed or only tagged in Little Blobs' Verse):

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie

(Although here's a lil spoiler - Nonna Rosa will probably show up in Little Blobs' verse cause I'm not ready to let go of her and she'd whack me in the head with a spoon if I didn't let her meet her great-grandchildren)

[hard-core-super-star]

create a dream come true [W.Maximoff]

pairing: baker!wanda x college student!reader

summary: despite your growing connection to wanda, she starts pushing herself too hard and not telling you help. thankfully, you're too stubborn to let her go.

warnings: none?; fluff; a splash of hurt/comfort; stressed wanda gets the hug she needs; gay panic; feelings are confessed; MILF!wanda being a cutie

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: HELLO! for the few lovely people who asked for a part two to baker!wanda, here it is! i think this might be one of my favorite wanda variants but you didn't hear that from me. anyway, this series will most likely have another part but i might post fortnight part three first. anyway, thank you for reading, hope you enjoy <3

part one | part three | part four |

* * * * * * *

Things in Westview had, for the first time in your life, become unpredictable.

That being said, it wasn't the town itself that had shifted energies, not even the people living there. The only thing that had changed had been you…and your relationship with a certain green-eyed baker.

You weren't sure how to actually describe your relationship with her, though. It felt strange to call it a friendship considering the age difference between you two and your massive, growing, crush. There was little doubt in your mind that you were doing an awful job at keeping your affection for the older woman a secret, considering the smirk she often wore around you.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say the two of you were dancing around your very obvious feelings. The age gap was definitely something on your mind most of the time but the real thing that held you back were the whispers you heard from other customers when she asked you to go to the back with her.

Even though you both knew you weren't doing anything you shouldn't together, the whispers weighed on her. Sure, she was a completely divorced woman, free to do whatever she wanted, but Westview was a small town. Rumors and reputations mattered more than anything.

And, unfortunately, those rumors had the capacity of ruining the business she'd spent so long creating. She'd poured her all into the bakery and you'd rather keep your feelings a secret from her than do anything to ruin it for her. Some days, it was easier said than done.

Today was one of those days.

You technically weren't working for Wanda, even though you were spending every weekend, and every minute of free time, with her at the café. That didn't mean you didn't love helping her out, though. Whether it was stepping up as a cashier when someone took their break, restocking the cute displays when a pastry was running low, or helping the older woman whip up a new batch of her famous chocolate croissants.

You did it all for free and because you genuinely enjoyed helping her out. Plus, since you insisted she couldn't pay you a thing, she made sure to always make extra cookies for you to take back to New York for the week.

Today, though, there's a different energy in the air. You're not sure what it is exactly, you're simply painfully aware of how much time Wanda's been spending in the backroom baking.

Of course, baking is her job so it's not totally surprising but she's told you many times she bakes more when she's stressed. So, if you had to guess, spending the whole morning back there can't mean anything good.

You've tried to make your way in there to help her out but she'd pushed you out each time. Maybe that should have been your warning to stay away but you're far too stubborn for that.

Or maybe you're just an idiot.

Whatever it is, it makes you step into the back one more time. The morning rush is over, the only people left are the ones finishing up their coffee or having a late breakfast, and you're hoping the older woman will be in a better mood.

"Wands," you call out as you step inside. "How's it going in here?"

You don't even need to hear her answer to know something's wrong. There's a mess on her usually tidy work station, streaks of flour covering far too many counters and even the oven handles. You're not sure what's got her so chaotic and hurried, but she needs a break, and you're going to make her take one, no matter what.

"Everything's fine, sweetheart," she answers despite the mess on her apron that says otherwise.

You step forward into her space, your hands instantly coming up to smooth her stray hair behind her ears.

There's nothing new about the action. You've honestly lost count of how many times you've had to help clean Wanda up after preparing something due to how focused on her own chaos she gets sometimes. It's as frustrating as it is endearing.

This time, however, there's something different. A softness you're not fully used to. The familiarity behind your movements can't stop your breath from catching in your throat.

"I'm okay, y/n," she says again, although her voice is barely above a whisper.

"Don't lie to me," you reply. "You've been holed up in here all morning, that's not good for you. You haven't even told me why."

Wanda just sighs. "It's another special order, that's all."

The frown forms on your face before you can even think to stop it. Your hands move down to cup her face, thumbs rubbing away the bits of flour and icing stuck to her cheeks. "You're doing it again. You don't have to lie to me, you know?"

Your words seem to get through to her a little. Her shoulders slump forward and you move in to rest your forehead against hers.

You know it's a far more intimate action than what you should be doing with her. That the intimacy makes the lines of friendship blur until your head's a fuzzy mess.

It should feel scary, uncertain, wrong. Instead, all you feel is the warmth of her body against yours and the rush that comes from being close to her. The need to be closer that threatens to overwhelm you completely.

Thankfully, she speaks again before you can do something too stupid. Her voice is so soft, you almost miss it. "Yes, I do."

You don't understand the full weight of her words but they still make your heart clench. You can hear her exhaustion, the desperate way she tries to hold herself together even though she's worked herself too hard.

"No, you don't," you try again. "I can help. Let me help."

Even though she doesn't seem too convinced, she allows her eyes to meet yours. The conviction behind your gaze must strong enough to hold her up because she nods. "Okay, come here."

You expect her to pull you toward the half-finished cake she's working on or maybe have you take out a tray of heart cookies and start decorating them like usual. What you get, though, is Wanda leaning in, her hands landing on your waist and pulling you close.

Your mind goes blank, your hands shaking even as you hold them against her face.

You wait, heart in your throat, for her lips to meet yours.

Except they don't.

Instead, they meet your shoulder as she pulls you into her embrace.

The shock quickly turns into an affection you can't quite put into words. Your arms wrap around her shoulders and you pull her impossibly closer to you.

For a while, neither of you say anything. You simply hold her against you, letting her take a moment to catch her breath and come back to herself. While you don't fully know what's wrong, and though you hate seeing her so clearly upset, you don't push or rush her.

You simply wait.

And while you don't know it, it means more to her than you can even imagine.

Wanda pulls away from you when she's ready, her eyes holding traces of her exhaustion despite the soft smile on her face. "Thank you, darling."

You instantly shake your head at her. "You don't have to thank me. I like being here. With you. I like you."

The words are innocent enough for their real meaning to get lost. At least, that's what you assume. Unfortunately, you need to stop assuming things when you're with Wanda, you keep making an ass out of yourself.

"I like you too, y/n."

Before you can even begin to make sense of her words, she leans in. This time, one of her hands moves up, her fingers tilting your chin up so she can connect your lips.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, giving you the chance to melt into her like you never want to leave. And in a way, it's true. You're pretty sure there's no way you'll ever leave her side.

She pulls away much too quickly for your liking, your lips down turning into a pout. "Wands…"

"Don't pout, sweetheart," she tells you. "We still have work to do."

Like the enchantress she is, she takes a step back, suddenly ready to finish tackling the special orders taking up all her time. That only makes you pout more, your hand taking her and pulling her back in.

Wanda lets you, her mouth forming into a smile as you kiss her again. And again. And again.

Her laugh makes your heart swell. "Sweetheart, I'm serious."

All that makes you do is double down. "Go out with me."

The subtle tilt of her head makes you scramble for a better way to put your thoughts into words.

"I mean, on a date. Let me take you out. On a date. With me. Please."

As sweet as she is, she can't stop herself from laughing at you just a bit. Your face burns but you're sure you've never had a bigger smile on your face.

"Okay," she replies. "We can go on a date."

"Together?" You ask, just to see her smile again.

"Together." She nods. "But first, you have to help me with this cake."

And you gladly do.

[tmasc-confessions]

I'm sorry, this will be long. TW for SA and bullying.

As a transman I'm kind of sickened by the widely accepted attitude that transwomen/fems and cis women can do no harm and are subjugated by masc trans people. That femininity and anyone who identifies with it is a harmless victim. That misogyny (and transphobia) affect them only. It's genuinely revolting how much gender essentialist TERF shit has seeped into the community at large, and how uncritically people are willing to accept it.

As a transman I have been:

Raped at 15 by an adult cis women who had predatorially integrated herself into our teenage friend group.

Bullied relentlessly by a cis woman and our (once joint) friend group to the point of having to switch schools.

Bullied for YEARS behind my back by two separate transwomen, one who took the side of bully mentioned in the pervious bullet point. She played both sides and also constantly questioned my queerness, insisting I was faking it. I'll never forget the words "are you even gay or just a woman?" that were spoken to me, as a bisexual transman, by another queer/trans person I considered my best friend.

The second trans woman who bullied me for years also consistently went behind my back to talk shit about me to our entire friend group while I spent every weekend driving upwards of 8 hours to see her and paying for all of her expenses when we were together. She also constantly tried to feminize me (which got worse after she came out) asking to do my makeup or pointing out feminine clothes I should wear after I'd already said no and telling me I looked like female celebrities she had crushes on. She also took half naked pictures of my partner and I asleep and sent them to our GC as a "joke" when we were all under 18. Finally, after borderline stalking me all weekend at a convention this summer (we hadn't talked for almost 4 years, because in 2020 I found out about how much she'd always bullied me behind my back) she confessed to me that she'd only done all of this because she was so jealous of me.

So yeah, she bullied a transman into isolation from his queer friend group (and lifeline, honestly. I come from a very conservative, evangelical home.) FOR YEARS because she was jealous of the anatomy that I was born with. She even admitted that she knew I was insecure about people talking about me because of the bullying I'd previously faced and because of the rejection and scapegoating I'd faced in my home life, and she used that against me on purpose. She hurt and traumatized me on purpose because she couldn't handle her own jealousy over a transmasc having been born with the anatomy that she wasn't.

These instances of bullying have had long lasting effects on me and will always impact my ability to connect with and trust others. I sometimes still dream about being bullied by these people and I'm almost 26. Being bullied by people who you trusted as friends carries it's own kind of weight.

I have been SA'd by multiple transwomen aswell, not just cis women, but I've always felt like if I talk about it, I'll be victim blamed, invalidated and called a transmisogynist for daring to suggest that transwomen and fems are not exempt from needing to procure and respect consent.

I frequent a lot of irl queer spaces. Yes, I go to the club, to conventions, local meet ups etc. Basically, yes, I do touch grass. In these spaces I have been:

Grabbed and pulled on by the neck (w/o consent) by a trans woman to the point where two of my friends had to step in because she was ignoring me when I asked her to stop and was displaying visibly resistant body language.

Had my pronouns willfully ignored by a lesbian trans woman at the bar over and over again (eventhough I and I my friends corrected her every time) so that she could continue making random sexualizing comments about me (about wanting to pull my hair and choke me) w/o having to reconcile that she was attracted to someone who was not a woman. Me, a transman. My brother even had to ask her to stop making these comments about me directly to him because it was making him uncomfortable too.

I've been pressured into having sex with a trans woman in front of her boyfriend and all her friends while being choked and bitten w/o consent. She tried to make me do it again in front of my roommate on a separate occasion. Not once even asking if I wanted to fuck her or be touched at all in the first place. She just kind of expressed entitlement over my body.

I've had to reassure my other transmasc friend that they weren't being transphobic for feeling violated by a trans woman who started choking them and forcing oral sex on them w/o consent. Both of these instances happened separately to us at the same event.

I've been raped and sexually assaulted and bullied many times in my life, by people belonging to both feminine and masculine genders, cis men, cis women, trans people, and there's this undercurrent of misogyny and transphobia to all of them.

I don't like to get caught up on AGAB, but the second you have an AFAB-appearing body, people start treating you like an object. They express this entitlement towards you and your body that completely disregards your personhood regardless of your protests. Women, trans or cis, still need to ask for consent. Feminine people are still capable of violating your consent. Queer people are still capable of letting their attraction towards you manifest in misogynistic, transphobic ways. 

TRANSMEN STILL FACE AND HAVE FACED MISOGYNY. TRANSPHOBIA ISNT OKAY JUST BECAUSE ITS DIRECTED AT A MASC PERSON. YOUR SEXUAL ASSAULT ISN'T LESS VALID BECAUSE JUST THE PERPETRATOR WAS QUEER OR A WOMAN.

All that said, I still have so many cherished and wonderful expirences with my trans siblings. I value those nights where I've talked until dawn with a circle of random trans people at conventions. I value those moments where I've felt so much kinship with trans -women and -fems. My time spent in those instances of trans community building keep me fucking going.

I know better than anyone that so much of this vitriol towards transmascs really is just terminally online garbage being spewed by channers who hate themselves, but I also know that no one group of people is inherently safe because of the way they identify. Trans women aren't all inherently safe and pure and transmen aren't inherently privileged and they are not traitors.

Some of the kindest things I've heard about transmen, and my own personal presentation, have come from my trans sisters. Some of the most vile things I've heard about transmen have come from my trans brothers.

At the end of the day, I am sometimes scared that these wonderful trans people I meet irl are the same trans people shitting on transmascs online, but the healing nature of being with my trans siblings is more powerful than that.

Everyone and anyone can do harm regardless or gender. Trans people live unique lives that can't be watered down to "TME" or "TMA" or whatever the next discourse designed to divide us might be.

PLEASE, respect your trans siblings and their autonomy. No gender identity makes you incapable of being a fucking bully. No amount of dysphoria excuses abusing each other out of jealousy.

.

[fallingfor-fics]

Can you please do a one shot of like the abbot crew going out to a gay bar. Melissa and Y/N are secretly dating, and a girl from a different group approaches Melissa but doesn’t no how to take no for an answer. Leading to Y/N stepping in and a bar fight breaks out between the two and the groups they came with. Ending the night with Melissa and Barbara bailing Y/N and the rest of the abbot crew out and Melissa falling in even more love with Y/N for defending her. Maybe some smut if your feeling up to it…I had a dream about it…please and thank youuu😋🫶🏽

Sorry this took so long!

I didnt do it exactly how you asked but I hope you like it still!!

Cat Fight - Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: bar fight, dubcon, all around smut, sex on the kitchen counter without wiping it down first

Summary: basically the ask but no jail time is served lol

Every time you went out with Melissa you always had a blast, you would drink, dance, and talk deep into the night about endless things, and then go home with her. It was one of your favorite weekend activities. This outing was different though because you were being joined by Janine, Jacob, Barbara, and Gregory-- quite the bunch to be tagging along to one of the more popular but casual LGBT bars downtown. You don't even know how it happened but here you were, sitting at the bar squeezed between Jacob and Gregory, sneaking glances at Melissa from two seats down. It's not like you were having a bad time, conversation was fun with the group, and you loved hanging out with them, but weekends were sacred. These short two days were reserved for Melissa since you couldn't express affection all week at school, and rarely spent the night together during the week. But alas, you were cracking jokes to pass the time, and admiring your beautiful girlfriend from afar. 

“I just think its funny that Gregory has been hit on more times tonight by other guys than Jacob has.” Barbara says as she stirs her drink. This causes a laugh from the group but an eye roll from Jacob, and Gregory can be seen shaking his head.

“Well that's what happens when you buy a drink for a guy.” You said smiling and taking a sip. 

“Ok for the last time, I didn't know it was a guy, he had very pretty hair.” he laughed and everyone started to giggle along. You could hear Melissas laugh above all the rest and it warmed your heart. You turned to face the bartender to order a shot, hoping it would keep your mind off her. You had been hiding your relationship for months so you weren't sure why tonight was becoming so difficult and mentally draining. Maybe it was the bar, the place you two always went to and got to be yourselves, or maybe it was just because she wasn't looking at you as much as you were her. Melissa wasn't oblivious to the glances you were sending her way, but she knew better than to allow her eyes to linger a little too long on yours with Barbara and Jacob sitting right there. She was using every ounce of her will power to remain cool and casual.

“I'm getting another. Does anyone want one?” You ask looking around and everyone but Janine and Melissa, who were driving, nodded in agreement. 

“Great. Another round please sweetheart!” you say with a smile to the woman behind the bar and she nods, grabbing the shot glasses. You can feel Melissa's eyes on you and you know it's because of your over-kindness and endearing name you gave to the bartender, but you don't look in her direction and instead try to distract yourself by making conversation with Jacob.

The shots are lined up in front of you and you all say cheers before downing them, you make eye contact with Melissa when you are setting your glass back down and you feel your heart hurt. It's definitely the liquor mixed with general missing her, but you feel another wave of dread come over you. You look to the bartender and tap the shot glass to signal for her to pour another. You can feel Melissa giving you a concerned look but you ignore it. Jacob, Janine, and Gregory get up to go dance and you decide to join them, taking your shot and setting it down, glancing at Melissa and heading to follow them. Melissa watches as you walk to the dance floor with a slight sway in your step and lets out a small sigh. She knows how hard it is for both of you to keep this up sometimes, but it still slightly frustrates her how much you let it affect you on nights like these, when you do things like this in front of her knowing she can't step in to stop you. But she knows you're a grown woman and can handle yourself, so she just watches from the bar, listening to Barb rant about something. 

You are tipsy enough to dance confidently but without embarrassing yourself, you still have a mixed drink in hand so you are conscious of not spilling that, and you don't want to look too trashy with your dancing. You also know Melissa has to be watching you now, so you sway your hips and pull out all the moves that you can do casually but you know will be keeping her eyes glued to you. You make light conversation over the music with the others when suddenly you hear a gasp from Jacob.

“Oh my god guys look, Ms. Schemmenti has a womanly caller.” he snides and everyone looks over with a grin, you turn to look as well and sure enough a skanky looking woman has walked over to Melissa and is standing very close talking to her. 

“I didn't even know she had game like that.” Gregory claims after the woman starts laughing at something Melissa says. You roll your eyes but the group, being nosey as always, casually dances closer to the bar. 

“I mean she's hot but I didn't know she could pull women in a place like this.” Jacob says and they all nod. The group knew you were queer, but Melissa’s previous marriage and overall life confidence kept them from questioning her own sexuality. This fact aided in hiding your relationship and Melissa didn't seem to mind. You can't take your eyes off the scene. The woman is dressed in a body con bright blue dress with cutouts. She should be at a rave in an outfit like that, you think as you take a sip of your drink with a bitter glare. 

“So how about you let me buy you a drink?” the woman says with a smile as she twirls her hair. 

“Thanks, but I'm still working on mine.” Melissa smiles politely as she gestures to her beer in hand. 

“Haha you’re funny! Okay what about shots? On me of course!” the woman tries again and you feel your cheeks grow hot at the way the woman is shamelessly checking Melissa out, taking her in from head to toe. She then reaches up to play with Melissa's hair and you feel yourself stumble a bit as you zone out on her fingers touching Melissa's red hair. Hair that should only have fingers tangled in it if they were your own. You refrained from crushing the cup in your hand as you felt your skin get warm. It was no secret you were an incredibly jealous person, you two had even had this conversation when watching Moulin Rouge one night. You had told Melissa that the representation of love and jealousy in that movie was the perfect example of how you feel in deep relationships. You knew she could feel your gaze burning holes through the blonde that stood next to her

“Look I appreciate the offer, but really I'm okay.” Melissa declined once more and you watched as you finished the rest of your drink and walked back to the bar to get another. Melissa saw you and watched as you talked to the bartender. Barbara stood between you and Melissa and you avoided looking over at her until you had another shot in you at least. You then heard the woman speak up again in her agitating valley accent and rolled your eyes, deciding if you walked away it may have more of an effect on Melissa than if you stood around seething. You walked back to the others and kept dancing but made sure you could still see Melissa. Barbara left the bar to go to the bathroom and you felt a slight instinct to keep a stronger eye on Melissa in case that woman tried anything. You and Melissa made eye contact as you danced and your heart began to race as you couldn't help a small smile form when seeing her sparkling eyes look into yours. She grinned and then looked back over to the woman. 

“How about a dance then?” the woman smirks.

“I don't think my girlfriend will like that very much.” she says and this catches your attention, it was loud enough for you to hear, but the music and singing crowd allowed it to go unheard by the others. You don't stop swaying your hips gently to the music, but you focus in on their conversation again.

“Haha and who is your girlfriend?” the woman says with a cocky tone. 

Melissa gestures to you with a smile, and you look the woman up and down with a glare, looking at Melissa and then back to the other woman.

“Well I don't see much, I can handle her.” she hums and you stop dancing and straighten up as she turns to face you.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” Melissa scoffs at the woman.

“Awe, why? Are you worried you might end up enjoying a night with me far more than whatever this loose little girl could ever offer you?” she quips and you feel your fists clench as you make your way over. Melissa straightens up and crosses her arms prepared to defend you when you chime in first. 

“Are you dense? She's clearly not interested.” you mutter to the woman who laughs and Melissa smiles. 

“No, Y/n it's fine she was just leaving.” Melissa says trying to keep the conversation from escalating. 

“Actually, if your girlfriend here really liked you why wouldn't she be out there dancing with you instead of sitting here talking to me?” the woman said with a grin and you shook your head. You knew you couldn't say much and draw the attention of the others but this woman was really getting under your skin for some reason. You saw Barbara coming back from the bathroom and bit your tongue, rolling your eyes and letting out a sigh. 

“Look, just do yourself a favor and walk away.” Melissa said to the woman and she shook her head. 

“No not after an ugly bitch like her called me stupid!” 

The group on the dance floor heard that and all came over to observe, drawing more attention to your friends and now the woman's own friends came to see what was happening. 

“Lex what's going on?” one of her friends asked and she scoffed.

“This whore just called me stupid.” Lex said, clearly very drunk as she slurred her words, and probably under the influence of a little more than alcohol.

“Woah woah woah lets not over react, this isn't the place for this ladies how about you walk away and we all just enjoy our nights.” Gregory spoke up. 

“Nah mind your own business asshole! This is between me and this fucking bitch.” Lex slurred out while doing loud hand gestures. 

You sighed and could feel your face growing flushed and you ran a hand through your hair as you tried to just ignore the woman. It was one thing to call you names, you could be the bigger person and walk away with that, but people being a dick to your friends is not something you care about maintaining decorum for. Still you took a deep breath and turned to get a drink, but you felt a hand shove your shoulder. 

“Yeah walk away like a pussy, leave your girlfriend to a real woman.” Lex mocked and you let out a sigh before realizing you were now drunk enough to use that as an excuse for the following action. Disregarding the comment that left the group slightly confused you turned, grabbing Melissa's beer from her hand, and tossing it on the girls hideous blue dress. 

“Oh shit.” You heard Jacob and Janine remark from behind you. 

“Y/n, hon come on, I think it's time we go guys.” Melissa said, reaching to grab your arm to lead you out but the woman reaches up to slap you but you reach out and grab her hair instead. In a blink of an eye the whole bar is now staring at the both of you as exclamations can be heard from both groups and Melissa is yelling every swear she can conjure up as her and Gregory are trying to get you off the other woman. You had her by the hair still and went to throw another punch until you felt a large pair of arms grab you around the stomach and pull you back, another large man grabs the other woman and you realize it's the bar's security guys. You hear your friends all yell at security to put you down, and he yells back and tells them they all have to leave or they are gonna call the cops. Barbara is the first one to pay off the tab and lead everyone out. 

“Have some decorum and just get outside!” She orders the group and they gather their things and listen. You don't put up a fight, but security still has a firm grip on your arms and is practically dragging you outside. 

“Okay Jesus I dont think this is necessary she's listening!” Melissa yells at the large man who just ignores her. He roughly lets go of you once you're outside and Melissa stabilizes you with gentle hands on your arm and hip. Eventually you are all waiting on the sidewalk as Janine goes to pull up her car. 

“Ok so that was wild.” Jacob mutters after an awkward silence. You lean against the wall of the building and sigh, Melissa looking over at you then back to the others. 

“Yeah what happened exactly? And why did that crazy lady call you her girlfriend?” Gregory asked and you didn't have the energy to say anything, or even look up at any of them. 

“Um. That lady wasn't taking a hint, so Y/n came to tell her to back off, and I guess she got the wrong idea, and things just escalated.” Melissa muttered as a cover. Since you had been so good at hiding things up until this point they all nodded without a doubt. Janine pulled up and Gregory and Jacob got in. You didn't move from your place on the wall and Melissa looked over at you then back to the others. 

“Barb you go ahead with them, I'll drive Y/n home tonight since it’s on my way.” Melissa said with a concerned voice and Barbara smiled. 

“Okay, I will see you ladies at school on Monday.” Barbara said before getting in. the rest of the group waved and Janine drove away. Leaving you and Melissa on the sidewalk. You still hadn't looked up or said a word. Your legs were getting tired from standing against the wall, and your cheeks felt slightly numb from the chilly air. You could feel your lip was bleeding but was pretty sure that was the only damage besides a slightly bruised ego. Melissa came to stand next to you, poking at your arm. 

“Are you ready to go, hon?” she said softly and you didn’t say anything. You finally looked up at her and she saw the blood dripping from your pouted lips and a faint red mark on your face that was slowly disappearing. 

“Baby your lip-” she went to wipe the blood but you cut her off.

“I'm sorry.” you muttered simply.

Taken aback she shook her head with furrowed brows, “For what?” 

“For making a scene, getting us kicked out-- almost having the group find out… all because of my fragile ego.” you scoffed hearing yourself and looked down to play with your fingers.

“Sweetheart, don't be sorry for any of that! I have never had someone, that wasn't family, literally fight a person for me.” She said playfully, using her hand to gently lift your chin. “I mean you did that because you care about me and your friends, not because you're fragile.”

You shook your head in response and opened your mouth to mutter another comment, but she stopped you with a kiss. She cupped your face with her hands gently, and softly kissed your lips with an underlying passion, being cautious of your busted lip, and stroking your cheek with her thumb. She pulled away with sparkling eyes and a grin which you met with a larger smile before reaching for her jacket to pull her into you again. You kissed her deeply ignoring the slight pain it caused, and ran your hand up her body to cup her cheek. Your breathing grew heavy as Melissa pushed you into the wall with her hips and you opened your mouth slightly allowing her to take over. Her tongue ran over your lip, she could taste the blood from your cut and the liquor on your breath, but she still deepened the kiss by letting her tongue enter your mouth and dance around your own. You eventually pulled away to catch your breath and you rested your forehead against hers as you shut your eyes and played with her hair. You had almost forgotten how much you had to drink until you stumbled slightly and she instinctively grabbed your waist. 

“I love you Y/n, and tonight only proved to me just how much I do” she spoke softly in her velvety voice and you smiled innocently with a red stained lip. She brushed over it with her thumb, and then stood up straight. 

“I love you too.” You said simply before feeling your eyes get tired. 

“Cmon, we are getting you home.” She said with a laugh and you nodded, allowing her to take your hand and walk you to her car. 

You knocked out the whole drive back, Melissa's hand placed on your thigh the whole way. She tapped it gently when you arrived and you opened your eyes to see you were at her house and you looked at her with a smile. 

“What? You didn't think I was just going to leave you alone at your place did you?” she mocked you with love and you laughed, getting out of the car and following her inside. 

“I think the nap in the car was exactly what I needed because I feel much better now.” You said smiling at her as you hopped up on the kitchen counter.

“Oh really? Well drink this whole glass of water and then we will see.” She said handing you a cup she filled from the fridge. She kept her eyes on yours as you drank it and she took off your shoes for you, placing them on the floor before kicking off her own. You finished the glass and placed it down as she turned to face you again. You grabbed her by her waist and pulled her to you, running your hands through her hair and admiring her beauty. 

“Don't look at me like that baby.” She said in a deep tone, her eyes full of a serious yet lustful gleam as she moved her hands to rest on the counter on either side of you.

“Like what?” you smiled, not moving your hands from her, tangling in her hair, running over her shoulders and arms, and then back to tuck her hair behind her ears.

“Like you want to fuck me.” she said firmly with a grin. You were surprised she didn't hesitate to call you out and this sent a chill down your spine. 

“Well, what's so wrong with that?” you teased, leaning in closer so you were inches from her face, your eyes darting between her dark green ones.

“The issue is how sexy it is but I'm not one for coercion.” She replies, moving to push herself away, but you grabbed her by the belt loops of her jeans and pulled her closer so her torso was between your legs and against the counter. You draped your arms over her shoulders and hovered your lips over hers, teasing her with a gentle peck to the lips. You pulled back slightly with a grin and she stared at you lovingly.

“Its not coercion if I want it and i'm barely even tipsy.” you say with a smile.

“Please Melissa, I just risked my life for you and I need to feel you.” You said with dramatics and a hint of sarcasm.

“Ha, now who is doing the coercing!” She laughed and you shook your head.

“Not coercion, I’m begging you,” you whined before pushing her away slightly so you could slink off the counter and onto your knees on the cold kitchen tile. “I'm literally on my knees for you… mommy.” You said with a grin, looking up at her with shining eyes. She smiled and let out a scoff. Your hands slid up the side of her legs, slowly over her thighs until you got to the button of her pants, causing her to suck in a breath before looking into your eyes again. You could see the internal battle she had and before you could unbutton her pants, she grabbed your hands and pulled you up to her. She pulled you in by your waist and kissed you deeply, letting out the breath she’d been holding in as she ran her hands down your waist to grab your ass. You moaned into the kiss and pressed your torso against hers. When you pulled away to catch your breath she smirked at you and sucked in her lip. 

“Okay but no taking care of me tonight, it's all about you baby.” She said, finding a compromise for her decision and you grinned, slightly upset you wouldn't be able to make her feel good. 

“Anything you say.” You nodded desperately and she let out a beautiful laugh before backing away and grabbing your hips to push you up against the counter. She kissed you again and your hands found her cheeks as you deepened the kiss with force. She ran her hands down your back and grabbed under your thighs to lift you onto the counter, not breaking the kiss. You groaned from the smooth execution and she smiled into the kiss. She pulled away and looked you in the eyes as she pushed your skirt up to your waist and pulled your panties off. You played with her hair as she did so and then felt your thighs squeeze together at the cold air and the way she was looking you up and down. 

“God you're stunning Melissa.” You said with a shaky breath as her hand pushed between your thighs and brushed your core with slow motions. 

“I could say the same thing about you hon, now be a good girl and lay back.” She said in a deep and sensual tone. You quickly nodded, leaning in for another deep kiss, pushing your chest against hers, cupping her cheek with your hand. You allowed your tongue to enter her mouth and kissed her with passion. She smiled into the kiss at your eagerness and she pulled away, raising her eyebrow at you and you placed another peck to her lips before doing as you were told. You pushed your hair out from under you to be laid out on the counter and allowed yourself to relax slightly. You felt her hands bend your knees and place your feet on the edge of the counter to give her better access.  The cold air caused your skin to prickle with small goosebumps and you felt your heart speed up as you awaited her touch. She traced her hands gently up and down your thighs before placing kisses along the inside of them. Her cold fingers came up to rub your clit and your body twitched, sensitive from being deprived for so long. You slightly leaned into her touch but the limited space on the counter kept you from doing so. 

“Just relax baby, I want you to be able to remember how good I treated you when you wake up tomorrow.” she said with a cocky grin that you could practically feel. She leaned in and licked a stripe up your folds without hesitation. Collecting your slick on her tongue before lightly sucking on your bud. You let out a moan and she gripped your thighs tighter to keep them in place as she continued to suck on your clit, licking circles around it. She moved a hand from your thigh to her mouth, placing two fingers in her mouth before rubbing your clit and then inserting them into you. You let out a hoarse gasp and she gently curled her fingers inside you, moving her head back down to continue torturing your clit. You arched your back off the counter and moaned at the new angle and she hummed into you causing you to moan again. 

“Fuck, Melissa!” You exclaimed, letting your hand come to her hair, brushing it from her face. She felt you clench around her fingers and held back a grin at how ready you were for her already. She thrusted her fingers harder, stroking inside of you and hitting your sensitive spot. Never taking her lips off your core, her tongue running over your clit before she continued to suck on it. You let out another loud moan and your free hand came to your mouth so you could bite on your knuckles, your eyes closing shut tight. 

“No baby move your hand I wanna hear you scream as you cum for me.” she said, not stopping her thrusts.

“Ah, ok- yes mommy.” you gasped out, tugging on her hair slightly, earning a deep groan from Melissa that you could feel. Your juices covered her face and hand now and you felt yourself clenching around her. You arched off the counter again and she brought her other hand off your thigh to rub your clit so she could talk you through your release. 

“That’s it my love, you're doing so good, cum for me hon.” She said, smiling down at you with dark eyes. You felt your release wash over you at the praise and your body shook as your orgasm flooded through you and you clenched around her fingers. Your mind went dark as you moaned loudly, fire spreading through your veins. As you caught your breath you opened your eyes. Melissa pulled her fingers from you and you used the little strength you had to try and sit up. She snaked her hand around your back to pull you up to her and you met her with a smile and flushed cheeks. She lifted her fingers to your mouth and you took them in without hesitation, tasting yourself on her. 

“You did so good for me baby.” She muttered in her deep, raspy voice, pulling her fingers from your mouth and back down to your center to sooth your sensitive clit.

“I love you.” You said with a smile. 

“I love you too.” She said simply and you leaned in to kiss her gently, looking in her eyes as you placed a peck to her lips. She took your lower lip between her teeth and you winced. She pulled away with a sarcastic grin and furrowed brows.

“Oh i'm sorry sweetheart, did I hurt your lip?” she brushed her thumb over the cut that was now bleeding slightly again. 

“A little. But its okay,” you said not taking your eyes from hers as you moved her hand to rub circles on your core slowly. “I liked it.” you added and she raised a brow. Moving to kiss her again she moved her head back slightly and thrusted her fingers back inside you without warning, she watched with a grin as your face contorted in pleasure. Your brows furrowed and your lip pouted. 

“Give me one more.” she ordered and you nodded, leaning to kiss her again but she pulled back, teasing you once more as her fingers moved inside you. The angle allowed her to curl into you deeply and you let out a gasp, her thumb brushed your clit in circles and you felt your second orgasm approaching rapidly. 

“Yes, mommy please don't stop.” you muttered breathlessly and she smirked, moving her fingers faster. You clenched around her and felt heat pool in your core as your orgasm approached. 

“Look at me baby.” She said and you met her gaze, furrowed brows and your mouth open in an ‘o’ shape as you moaned. Your legs shook slightly and you felt your thighs move to clench together and she didn't stop you. You sat up straight which allowed her fingers to reach deeper inside you and you gasped. Her eyes were full of lust and mischief as she looked into your pleading ones. Your eyes shifted to her puffy pink lips and you looked back in her eyes, silently begging. 

“Please kiss me Melissa.” you begged, your release approaching. She gave in and kissed you deeply, watching as your eyes closed and you moaned into the kiss. Her fingers sped up and she deepened the kiss, her tongue roaming around your mouth with passion and control. Your eyes squeezed tight as you felt the wave of relief crash over you and you moaned into the kiss, your hands moving to wrap around her face, cupping her jaw so there wasn't a chance she could pull away. She allowed her fingers to slow and you grinded against them as you rode out you high. Her other hand came to grip your waist, her thumb pushing into your hip. You finally pulled away and your foreheads met as you both caught your breath. 

“I'm so proud of you hon.” she said with a smile and you gently nodded.

“I'm definitely going to remember this.” you quipped and she let out a laugh before pulling you off the counter, your legs wrapping around her and her hands holding you by your thighs as she carried you. 

“Let's get you cleaned up and into bed.” she said sweetly into your ear and you allowed your glorious lover to carry you up the stairs and to her bedroom.

xx

[fourmula1]

so what about a nashville gay bar full of wannabe cowboys in western shirts but with the sleeves cut off of course. its all boots and belt buckles, hats and bolo ties. 

and there’s country music and line dancing. there’s a mechanical bull in the back. daniel’s taken it for a ride already and he knows how to move - both to hold on to the bull and keep all eyes on him. the bull is always a shoe-in for nabbing him a hot cowboy for the night to dance with under the  dive bar neon and he’s got more than a couple of boys flashing their belt buckles and offering to buy him a drink. daniel’s spent most weekends here and he’s fucked most cowboys here but it never gets old. 

but what is new is the boy in the corner - wrangler jeans tighter than all get out, pulled over his boots, tight around his thick thighs. his pendleton print denim shirt doesn't have the sleeves cut off and his top few buttons are actually done right up. he’s not showing off for anyone. the boys in here are mostly playing the part of country boy but daniel can tell this guy is a real one. a bit of an awkward standout in a place like this but he probably fits in just fine on a ranch, tossing bales to the cows with well-worn leather gloves.

daniel nudges his way past the guy trying to chat him up and crosses the bar to the new stranger trying to hide in the dark corner. 

never seen you here before, he says; tips his hat and grins at the immediate pink blush dusting the guy’s cheeks. daniel can’t see his eyes beneath the brim of his hat, pulled down low. he’s shy. maybe scared. daniel leans up against the pillar at the edge of the dancefloor and crosses his arms over his chest. his is on show - three buttons undone, smooth waxed skin glistening under the lights of the dancefloor.

never been here before, the guy tells him and lifts his head and daniel’s heart stutters in his chest at the shine of the guy’s pretty blue eyes. the dimly lit dancefloor doesn’t hide anything. blue blue blue. 

he has a little twang of a country accent, and he shrugs a little, and daniel feels hungry. the guy is stocky and muscular in the way a man gets from actual hard work, not from hitting the gym just to look pretty. daniel wants to be under him immediately.

but first:

well, you wanna take me for a twirl or what? he asks, signature cheeky grin shining through. he knows he’s irresistible.

you know how to two-step? blue eyes asks and daniel’s knees would have buckled had he not been leaning up against that pillar.

most of the boys in these parts are Rainey Street wannabes who buy a cheap cowboy hat and call it a night. they know some line dances but that’s about it.

daniel smiles and stands up straight, holds his hand out to blue eyes and shivers when he takes it. 

and then he’s being pulled in close with a big hand at the small of his back, and pressed against blue eyes’ chest and oh, he is good. they flow together perfectly and daniel’s never danced with a stranger and had it go this well. the guy leads, and daniel goes easy, and it’s when he does indeed get twirled and pulled back into the pretty boy’s arms for a dip that he’s sure he’s a bit in love.

and they two-step the night away and daniel gets them drinks and learns that blue eyes’ name is max and he works on a ranch a few miles down the road and later daniel gets to learn for real how strong max’s hard-work muscular body is and how max’s hat looks hanging from daniel’s bedpost and how max’s roughed up hands feel pressing him into the sheets and how after tonight he never has a reason to go out dancing alone ever again because their life together is a real life country song. 

[ieatstarsforaliving]

The Fucking Fight Club (2)

Summary: Hazel tries to control her powers during the first fight club. But because she's a loser, she fucks up. A lot.

Pairing: Spider-Woman!Hazel Callahan x Classmate!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), mild violence, mentions of bruises and blood

Word Count: 3866

Note: Okay I know I gave y'all the first chapter yesterday but you guys surprised me with so much likes, I quickly whipped up the next chapter. The ending is kind of bad but lmfao idc. It's extra long cause I probably can't write until next weekend due to fucking midterms. I wish I could drop out and write fanfics all day long. But life is unfair to the gays <3

“Okay, before we actually do this, I want Hazel to practice controlling her punches.” 

Josie had dragged PJ and Hazel to a hiking trail in the nearest forest. This wouldn’t have been mandatory if Hazel didn’t have the super-strength to murder a human with a single blow, but since she did, Josie wasn’t about to let the feminist self-defense fight club happen without a bit of rehearsal. 

“Fine, mom.” PJ rolled her eyes. She was used to Josie’s dramatic cautiousness, but this seemed like a waste of time. She turned to Hazel and offered her face. “Hazel, just relax, and punch me.”

Hazel did a double take. “Punch… punch you?”

“Okay, I don’t like that tone. I know how to take a punch. Something people would always say is ‘PJ knows how to take a punch.’ Come on up.”

“PJ, she literally beat up a grown man with metal octopus arms last week. And the week before that, a man made of indestructible sand. You remember that? On the news? You might know how to take a punch, but you don’t know how to take her punch.”

“That’s why we’re practicing!”  

“I meant like practice on a tree or something.” Josie waved towards the nearest tree, standing about 25 feet tall. “Hit a tree, Hazel.” 

Hazel shrugged, before pulling back and punching into the middle of the tree. In a split second, the tree quaked under the assault, its massive frame crackling under the exact spot of Hazel’s fist. The bark gave away first, exploding outward in a radial pattern. When she retracted her hand, there was a massive dent on the thick body of the tree, jagged fault lines extending from the center of the impact. 

PJ’s eyes widened. “Holy fuck. That could have been my face.” 

Josie shook her head. “Okay, so, obviously, you have to calm down. By a lot. Try the same thing, but like, weaken it?” 

Hazel nodded. She then gently tapped the tree with her fist. 

Josie shook her head again. “That was clearly too weak.” 

Hazel sighed. “I don’t know if I can do this, guys. I’m so used to punching psychopathic criminals who want to kill me, so I’m always using at least 90% of my strength.” 

“Which is why I brought this.” Josie pulled out a piece of paper from her bag. It turned out to be your face printed on an A4 sheet with a speech bubble that read, ‘punch me!’ “Now, hear me out—”

“-Actually, this is brilliant,” PJ said, taking the paper from Josie’s hands. She taped it to the tree and presented it to Hazel. “Imagine the tree is (Y/N). She’s standing in front of you. She’s sexy, she's wearing a bikini, she’s ready to learn, and she’s asking you to punch her. What do you do?” 

Hazel stared at the tree with your face on it. In spite of this entire scenario being outrageously stupid, Hazel’s eyes fixated on the piece of paper, trying to immerse herself in your 2D face. It seemed to be a copy from last year’s yearbook, one that she had spent many hours staring at. She felt weirdly guilty as she wrinkled her eyebrows.

“I don’t really want to punch her.”

“Well, you have to! This is for feminism!” PJ groaned when she saw the hesitancy in Hazel’s face. “Hazel, women like strong, protective people. Why do you think there’s a hulk shrine in the girl’s second floor bathroom? You punch (Y/N) straight in the face, and she’ll immediately fall in love with you.” 

“Well–”

“-She will, Josie.” 

Hazel nodded. It was worth a try. If she wanted to wrestle with you in this club, she had to try. With a measured breath, Hazel extended her arm, fingers curling into a tight fist. She delivered a punch, focusing on her strength rather than causing harm. The moment of impact was firm but gentle, almost considerate towards the tree’s bark. It was as if the tree had barely registered the encounter, although its leaves were left shaking. She turned to her friends. 

“Perfect,” PJ whispered, her eyes glistening in awe. “Let’s go beat some bitches up.”

“Not how I’d word it,” Josie muttered. 

That afternoon, you were taking a hike in the same forest with Isabel and Brittany. It was quite calming, walking and talking with your friends in the middle of a beautiful forest. Birds were chirping, winds were breezing– And you guys were completely alone, since nobody really came here, and if they did, it was usually after sunset to do drugs and film porn. 

The three of you reached the midpoint of the trail to take a small break, when Brittany pointed at a nearby tree. 

“Hey, isn’t that…” 

You followed her finger to a tall tree that seemed to be beaten up by someone, with its bark splintered and smashed by a form of impact. And in the middle of its trunk, was a photo of you, with a speech bubble that read ‘punch me!’. 

Your heart dropped. 

“Oh my god, (Y/N), somebody wants to kill you,” Isabel gasped. She walked up to the tree and ripped the paper off. “Isn’t this from our yearbook?” 

You reached out to take the paper from Isabel’s hand and inspected it closely. It was indeed a page from the previous year’s yearbook, with your smiling face captured in a freeze-frame moment of your junior days. The speech bubble, however, had been added later, which meant that someone had deliberately printed your face, edited it, and pinned it to a tree to violently punch it out. 

You felt a chill down your body. Who could have done this? You knew it was hard to be friends with everyone from school– but who would despise you enough to do this vicious and also slightly weird property damage to nature? 

“We should report it or something, like to a park ranger,” Brittany offered, sensing your panic.  

“No, They’re just going to tell us not to come back here wearing shorts,” You sighed. There were no cameras on the trail or anything, and the park rangers were men who were probably going to comment on your appearance instead of the actual problem at hand. “I have to do something about this by myself.” 

You needed protection. No, you needed to learn how to protect yourself. You needed teachers who could help you protect yourself from evil highschool men. 

You needed Hazel Callahan. 

You turned to your friends with a determined face, masking your fear before saying;

“Do you guys want to join a self-defense club with me?”

 Isabel and Brittany paused, exchanged glances, then nodded. 

“What the fuck. These girls are ugly.”

It was the first club meeting for the feminist self-defense fight club, and there were exactly 8 girls waiting in the gym. Absolutely no sign of you. Hazel laid on the gym mats, trying not to show her disappointment. She reached for her phone, staring at your number in her contacts. She never got to texting you because she was panicking over what to say one night, and was busy fighting off muggings and carjackings every other night. 

“Are you stressed? Cause I’m stressed,” Josie muttered, as the advisor for the club hopped in, earning a sharp breath from Hazel. 

“Hey, ladies! Let’s get it poppin’ in this motherfucker.”

Hazel blinked. Mr. G was the advisor for this club? 

This was going to be absolutely horrendous. 

“Alright, uhm… hello, everybody,” Josie tried, looking around the gym filled with girls jumping on trampolines, hula-hooping, scooting, and balance-balling. “Okay, excuse me, sorry, I feel- sorry–” 

“-EVEVRYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP.” PJ hit the floor with a broom, each collision echoing through the space with a ‘BANG’. 

“This isn’t a little hangout, okay? Oh it’s not a sleepover or playtime. There are serious rules that we need to establish, okay? 

“First? Listen to Hazel.” 

Hazel lifted her hand in a subtle gesture. 

“Second? Be on time. Except for you,” PJ pointed to Mr. G. “You come whenever you want. What time is it?”

“3:30–-” 

“-3:30! Club starts at 3:15. Not 3:16, not 3:17. But the door closes at 3:15. No exceptions!”

Hazel smiled. Other than the fact that they were the ones who were actually late, PJ was doing amazing, putting authority towards the three girls and setting the ambiance. PJ could be a menace sometimes most of the time, but when she wanted to get shit done, she got shit done. Hazel was almost too distracted by PJ’s rant—

“-I don’t care, if you’re like, oh, but I had to go get extra help for math because I need to get a full ride because my mom lives in a trailer and she loves her boyfriend more than me, bleh blah blarh blargh– Shut up. My dad left me and I’m incredibly punctual–”

–That she didn’t even notice you walking into the gym with Isabel and Brittany following closely behind. When she did notice, her heart seemed to pick up speed, her lips curling into a smile even without realizing. Josie recognized the smile– one that Hazel only had when she was talking about her crush— and Josie turned around, motioning to PJ that the holy trinity had entered the gym. 

Your eyes met with Hazel’s, and you waved in acknowledgement. She almost dropped her notebook as she looked around to check if you were waving to someone else, and then she fumblingly waved back. You giggled. Hazel had this face that effortlessly radiated innocent charm. You weren’t sure why, but you were drawn to her slightly nerdy demeanor. (it’s called being gay)

“Hey, guys. Come on in,” PJ rasped. “Uh… we’re just getting started here.” 

You walked to Hazel and stood beside her. “Sorry we’re late,” you apologized. 

The three girls shook their heads. “Don’t worry about it—”

“-Uhm, the rules were for next week, but this week is good–”

“-Yeah, no worries, take it easy.” 

Annie seemed confused. “Okay, I just want to make sure– This is a self-defense class, right? Where we can learn to protect ourselves against football players.”

“And the criminals that Spider-Woman has been fighting? Cause, uhm, crime rate has been going up so criminals are gonna pork us. They’re gonna pork us.”

“I thought we were fighting each other for money. There’s a cash prize, right?” 

“I thought this was to be a part of like a local, underprivileged female community.” 

“My identity is completely attached to hers so I just go wherever she goes.”

“I thought I could learn how to protect myself. Cause I’m pretty sure someone’s trying to kill me,” You added. 

“What?” Hazel turned, her eyes filled with worry. 

“Everyone’s here for a good reason!” Josie laughed. “So, you know, why are we nitpicking reasons?” 

“Yeah! So, let’s jump in. Hazel, why don’t you take it away?” 

“Uh.” 

PJ and Josie stepped back and began clapping. Everyone else followed along into a scattered and confused applause. Hazel walked to the front, opening up her notebook to the page reading ‘Self-Defense Club.’ 

“Okay. Hi. I’m Hazel. And I’m going to teach you guys how to fight. Maybe throw some punches. Some kicks.”

There was a bit of silence, maybe a single cough. PJ spoke up.

“(Y/N), since you’re closest to Hazel, why don’t you volunteer and step up?” 

You shrugged. “Sure.” 

You weren’t completely sure what was going on or how exactly Hazel was going to teach self-defense, but you dropped your backpack to the floor and walked towards Hazel, who looked incredibly afraid of what was going to happen next. She looked over your shoulders to PJ and Josie. 

PJ mouthed the words, ‘Punch her. She’s the tree. Punch her.’

Hazel sent signals through her eyes meaning, ‘I can’t– I’m not gonna punch her.’ 

PJ continued to mouth the words, ‘Punch her. Hulk shrine. Imagine her wearing a bikini.’ 

Hazel’s face contorted with disbelief, her eyebrows raised in surprise, and her mouth slightly agape. Was she actually going to punch the girl that she’d been crushing on for years? Was this really the way to do it? She tried to ignore PJ who was now mouthing ‘punch your virginity away’ and instead curled her hands into fists, imagining the tree, the print-out of your face saying ‘punch me!’, you wearing a bikini, your smile, your wave, your eyes, your body—

-While you stood beside her, wondering why Hazel looked like she was about to shit herself. You began to open your mouth to ask if she was okay. 

“Hazel—”

—And she flung her fist to your face. 

You didn’t even register what had happened until a sharp burst of pain radiated from your nose, and you found yourself laying on the floor of the gym. You heard gasps and shouts and something about Mr. G trying to shut the club down (“Hey hey hey hey hey– I don’t know about this shit-”) as you slowly sat up, tasting liquid metal. The pain began to spread to the rest of your face as your eyes blurred up, leaving you momentarily stunned and struggling to regain your composure. 

“Fuck, (Y/N)- I’m so sorry-” a horrified voice rang in front of you, and you felt a warm hand against your cheek. The hand seemed to be shaking, and you wiped your hazy eyes to see Hazel kneeling beside you, her expression embedded with guilt. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” 

“You didn’t even warn her!” Annie screamed. 

PJ shrugged. “Okay, we didn’t get warnings in juvie. Juvie was way crazier. One time, this girl’s punching me in the rain. Fall to my knees. It’s muddy. I get up– I’m blind. Punch her right in the middle of her face. Broke her fucking nose.” 

“Pretty sure Hazel broke (Y/N)’s nose too,” Annie grumbled. 

Isabel hurriedly handed you a couple of paper towels as Mr. G pushed the crowd to assess the situation. 

“Let me see her,” Mr. G ordered, gasping when he saw the amount of blood coming from your nose. “Oh, shit, man, we gotta shut this down.” 

“No, No—” 

“-Shut this shit down. Shut it down—” 

“-No, Don’t blow the whistle– Don’t blow the whistle!” Josie yelled. Everyone went silent, turning their attention from you to Josie. “I know that, you know– this is a little messy and bloody right now— Hazel, can you take (Y/N) to the nurse’s office–  but like, the only way that we can learn how to defend ourselves is by teaching each other.” 

Josie continued on with her little speech as Isabel and Brittany offered to take you to the nurse. But Hazel denied their help, rambling something about how this was all her fault. She picked you up fairly easily to your surprise, bridal style, and carried you out of the gym. You clutched onto her and rested your aching face into her stomach, feeling embarrassed.

When you arrived at the office, the nurse had gone home already, leaving Hazel to place you on the examination bed and find the medical kit. She seemed really anxious as you touched your face, your hand coming back dripping in red. 

“God, juvie really taught you how to punch, huh,” You joked, battling your agony with humor. Hazel didn’t laugh. Instead she grabbed a cloth and ran it under the sink water, indulging the silence. You tried again. “Hazel.” 

It was ignored once again as Hazel kneeled in front of you and started cleaning your face, her thumb gently holding your chin. She was very obviously avoiding your gaze with the best of her ability. 

“Hazel, look at me.”

Hazel finally looked up to your eyes. She looked like a child knowing that she was about to be reprimanded or put on time out— and you almost felt sorry for Hazel, even though you were the one bleeding out. She seemed to grimace as you opened your mouth, getting ready to be shouted at. But instead, you asked;

“Why didn’t you message me?”

Hazel paused. 

“I gave you my number. You didn’t message me,” You said again, completely serious. “You don’t like me?” 

“No, I like you!” Hazel exclaimed. Her cheeks turned into a shade of pink as she tried to reword the sentence. “I mean, I don’t don’t like you, I… I’m really sorry. I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to come to the club, and I’m sure you don’t want to anymore-”

“-No, I want to.” You interrupted. “I mean, my face hurts like a bitch, but… it was a solid punch. And I really do need to learn how to defend myself like that. I think someone’s trying to kill me, so I want to be ready.”

Hazel cocked her head. “Is someone attacking you? Do you need help?” 

You shook your head. “Not exactly, but I did see my face taped onto a tree, and someone had hit it really, really hard. Like, incredibly hard. Maybe with a rock, or something? I don’t know. I think it might be a death threat.”

Color seemed to drain out of Hazel’s face. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you–” You explained, mistaking Hazel’s pale skin as fear. “Listen, I’m not angry at you. Well, okay, I am a little, I think you could have warned me about the punch, at least, but… I know that you’re still recovering from your past and you’re probably on edge all the time.” 

Hazel nodded along, as it was partially true– she was on edge, but mainly because you were staring down at her with blood on your face and you still managed to look hot as fuck. She choked on her words before saying, “Still, I shouldn't have punched you like that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m really sorry.” 

You smiled. “This is the whole point of the club though, right? You punch me, I punch you… and we become stronger together– ow.” 

You winced when the cloth touched a particular spot on your nose bridge, being reminded of your injury. 

“Shit, sorry, here—” Hazel instantly dropped the cloth. She carefully cupped your face, examining your wound with sincere worry. She was used to seeing wounds on herself, but seeing them on a person that she liked— seeing them on you, made her particularly upset. 

You were surprised to see Hazel being so serious. Every time you tried to talk to her, she was either nervous or punching you. To see her so focused on your face made you feel a bit self-conscious, leading you to comment on her skills to break the silence.

“You seem to have a lot of experiences patching someone up. Do you do this often?” 

She chuckled, “You have no idea.” 

You assumed she was talking about juvie, and you recalled seeing the bruises on her face the last time you talked to her. Was Hazel still having problems with crime even after prison? You stared at her, your heart throbbing with sympathy for Hazel. What struggles had she faced in her past for her to learn to punch so strongly, to patch up bruises, and to always be nervous around others? 

Hazel pulled away from you, finishing up the basic patch-up. She started putting the medical kit away as you caught sight at the mirror across from you.

“Great. I look awful.” You sighed, lingering on your reflection.

“No, you don’t.”

Hazel tore her eyes away from the kit and responded, as if you had said something completely out of reality. You laughed and shook your head, looking at the floor.

“No, my face is a complete mess–” 

“-You look pretty.” 

You tore your eyes off from the floor to Hazel. She was staring at you with a soft look in her eyes, one that you felt yourself getting lost in. She had such… honesty within them, as if she fully believed your beauty underneath the red and blue color. 

“You always do.”

And for a moment you wondered how you had never truly seen Hazel before— when the soft glow from the sun streamed through the window, casting a warm light over the two of you. Hazel’s brown hair, cascading into a messy mullet, framed her face which seemed to be burning up each second that passed. 

“...you too,” You muttered, a shy smile replacing your dumbstruck expression. “I hope you know that.”

Then it was her turn to gawk, at you and your hands timidly placed on your legs which dangled from the examination bed. She was reminded of her crush that had been sitting in her heart for years. She had just spent 5 minutes in a room alone with you— and for a second, she was almost glad that she punched you. 

And all of a sudden, Hazel seemed to recognize the lack of space between the two of you. Had you been this close to her this entire time? Your face was just inches apart from hers, and time seemed to stretch as you two gazed at each other, hearts thumping in unison. It was as if the wall Hazel had managed to build around her feelings towards you crumbled within this moment. Hazel’s lips parted, just a fraction, as if inviting the inevitable to say—

“-The club isn’t being shut down!” 

The office door swung open with a bang. 

Hazel immediately leaped back from you, as you whipped your face towards PJ and Josie who stopped in their celebratory tracks, analyzing the odd tension from the room.

“Oh, sorry, we thought–” Josie gaped, rubbing the back of her head in awkwardness. “How are you doing, (Y/N)?” 

“I’m doing okay, actually. I should go. But I’ll see you later, bye.” You hopped down from the bed and started walking out of the room, talking a bit too fast for anyone’s comfort. You almost fell over while you ran down the hallway, unable to accept what had just unfolded. What was that? You almost— you almost kissed a girl. You almost kissed Hazel Callahan.

In the meantime, Hazel was also mortified at the fact PJ and Josie had interfered right then and there. She hid her face with her hands which her friends mistook for anger.

Josie tried to calm her down, “Okay, I know that today was kind of a disaster and you made (Y/N) bleed, but after you left we managed to grow the spirit. Everyone’s into beating each other up now. It’s kind of working.”

“And, I honestly don’t know what just went on right now but… (Y/N) just said she’ll ‘see you later’. Which means it kind of worked for you too,” PJ added. “And it doesn’t seem like you broke her nose, which meant that you can actually control your power!”

“Are you still up for this, Hazel?” 

Hazel peeked out from hands, her face still red, her heart still sprinting, her mind still thinking about your lips— and how you said you would see her later. A smile tugged at her lips as she nodded and said,

“Let’s fucking do this.”

Previous Chapter: The Origin

Next Chapter: The Set-Up for Chapter 4

[longtallglasses]

coopermyagent’s byler fanfic post

chaptered fics

The Blair Witch Project - (95,803 words) E rating - blair witch project (1999) au, horror, gore, ghosts, haunting etc.

Will hasn’t been handed that many good things in his life. Piece of shit dad, growing up gay in a small town, falling in love with his straight best friend, and oh yeah, spending a traumatic week when he was twelve lost out in the woods that he still can’t recall to this day. But the one thing he always had was his friends. The Party.

However, entering their second year of college the party have drifted apart; maybe a weekend spent making Mike’s student documentary on the Blair Witch can bring them closer again? And maybe Will can still hold onto something good.

OR as a bookmarker once said “will has an unknown past! mike is a gay mess! they go in the woods and everything comes crashing down! on the edge of your seat madness twists and turns all while being erotic? and gorey? and sweet?”

it happens each day - WIP E rating - lighthouse keeper au, horror, cannibalism, gore etc.

Fall, 1977. Dear Mr. Wheeler, We are pleased to offer you the temporary position at Egg Rock Lighthouse. Your experience and passion for the light keeper post is greatly appreciated and we look forward to meeting you and your partner at the start of October. Attached you will find detailed directions on how to find your way depending on your transportation. As you know the lighthouse is quite secluded so we advise to pack accordingly for the coming months. We've also attached a few brochures about the history of the area, you'll find some informative while others quite humorous. You'll come to grow very accustomed to seeing Amaren's phrases around the property. We hope this is the start of a smooth and mutually beneficial working relationship for you at Egg Rock Lighthouse. Most cordially, The Board at Egg Rock

If it takes all night... - WIP E rating - vampire!mike au

Mike needs to get over his feelings for Will before it kills him. Literally. After a night out with a mysterious stranger turns into a surprise vampire attack that he should've seen coming, Will comes in to save his skin with a makeshift stake to the heart. However, the real nightmare begins when Mike starts showing signs of turning into a vampire himself. But Will is willing to do anything to help him survive... anything.

fluffy one shots

We’re So Lucky - (4,192 words) T rating -

Will gets very drunk at a party.

Mike takes care of him and they talk about their first sexual experiences and their desire for each other all while trying to not hook up.

heaven (let my love open the door) - (14,161 words) G rating -

it's valentine's day 1981, the boys give each other candy, but Mike has something extra for Will.

it's valentine's day 1989, and Mike and Will want to finally get a valentine's day to themselves. they both have special things in store.

but flurry you’re my best friend - (5,558 words) G rating -

Will had been sitting close behind him, leaning back on the head board, and now Mike’s upper half was laid out on his lap and chest.

“Oh sorry, I-” Mike is pulling himself up, but Will’s hand is on his shoulder, and it’s burning again.

“No, it’s okay,” and Will pulls him back down, his legs maneuvering around him, until Mike’s back is flush with Will’s chest and Mike no longer has a single thought going through his mind.

In the midst of trying to get five stars on his animal crossing island, Mike accidentally falls into his feelings for Will, literally.

featuring Will being very supportive of Mike's island and Mike wants better gifts from his villagers

one more… please? (tell it like it is) - (4,457 words) G rating -

Mike was in for the shock of his life when Will gave him a kiss on the forehead.

What's even more shocking is how he's now scheming to get more?

It’s Cute - (996 words) G rating -

Will didn’t mean for it to happen. Honestly he had kind of forgotten. He didn’t even really think about it anymore.

But there they were in his bedroom, and Mike had plucked it out from under his comforter, “Is this my sweater?”

i can be your canvas? - (2,058 words) G rating -

Will's all out of blank canvases... but Mike's in the room so...

that hot, huh? - (1,157 words) T rating -

That hot, huh?” Mike teases, his face still smeared with blood. “Shut up,” Will groans, his head tilted back at a sharp angle. He experimentally lowers his head, only for a fresh wave of blood to pour out, sending Mike into another fit of laughter. “I hate you,” Will moans, “stop laughing,” “I- can’t-” Mike wheezes.

bittersweet goodbyes - (1,612 words) G rating - miwi

mike and will have a dramatic goodbye ritual and lucas is so over it.

you're so cute i could eat you - (3,832 words) G rating- miwi

Mike gets a case of serious cuteness aggression when it comes to Will... but Will doesn't really seem to mind.

Two Halloweens - October, 1979 & 1983...

when lost, follow the light - (2,522 words) T rating - cleradin/medieval/royal au

Before setting off to war, Mike pledges his heart as well as his blade to his prince. His prince wants to extend his protection.

angst and or horror one shots

these fatal fantasies - (10,008 words) T rating - guilty as sin? song fic, mike pov

He wanted to stop doing this, he needed to stop doing this. He just worked himself up and he couldn’t escape it. It was driving him insane, he’d wake up in the night and not be able to stop his hand. His mind supplying him with Will and all these inane scenarios where they somehow ended up in his room, or in the basement, or the school bathroom, and everything started happening so fast.

He felt like shit afterward.

Am I allowed to cry?

OR

Mike's mind has been in shambles the entire week leading up to his trip to California. He hasn't spoken to Will properly in months, his friends feel a million miles away, El seems to be doing great without him, people are dying in San Francisco, and Mike has been imagining things he wishes he wasn't. He wishes he could just throw it all away.

i just may be a daredevil (can you feel my heart?) - (10,342 words) T rating -

Will doesn’t have anything to lose anymore, and Mike can’t lose him. The two go hurtling towards an inevitable precipice where the only option might be to go tumbling down together, limbs grappling for each other, flesh melding, and heartbeats syncing in time.

OR

Will’s composure cracks and beats up their middle school bully, finishing the job Mike started. :)

you make me feel like i am free again - (6,351 words) E rating - horror, gore tw

The summer of 1982 is nearing an end. Will and the party are trying to enjoy the last moments of heat before the new school year begins, Will especially. Lonnie just split a few months prior and Will is trying to understand the storm that never seems to stop brewing inside him. That is until one day the storm is unleashed. Waves of blood and rushes of relief are spilled. He should be frightened, he should be horrified, but all he feels is an intoxicating sense of control. Mike seems to enjoy it too.

OR

will's got crazy telekinetic powers? he unleashes wrath upon everyone? and mike cheers him on? miwi being bloody deranged boys.

lesbyler!

a plesio-what now? - (1,538 words) G rating -

michelle and willow make out in a library. that's it.

your kind of pretty - (1,699 words) G rating -

Willow wants Michelle to make her pretty like her...

flashback, warm nights - (1,104 words) G rating -

Snowball songs make Michelle and Willow want to finally do what they've always dreamt of doing.