#this match is gay on gay violence

[ghostatrandom]

I Put too much effort into this but damn this rematch got intense @sexymanotd

[folsaeure]

intimacy and violence (between men) on our screens. the Terror (2018). Frontier (2017). GCW Homecoming (2022).

ID: once again thinking about intimacy between men being more of a taboo than direct and grotesque violence.

I can watch a show with queer characters who's intimacy is entirely off screen - but I'll see the brutal punishment one of them gets for it in its entirety.

I can watch a series that show's me sliced throats, smashed heads and sexual assault of women - but won't show me a direct kiss between two male lovers.

I can watch a staged fight that uses real violence - and see more outrage against the actors homoeroticism than their brutality.¹

It's not that i wanna see them fuck onscreen so badly, and I actually love the creativity of an indirect kiss, I even enjoy violence in my media to some degree - but nothing exists in a vacuum and I cannot ignore what they decide to show and hide.

Especially when it's literally spelt out for us, like censoring a simple kiss on another mans temple for a "family friendly" cut.

¹ the outrage over deathmatch wrestlings brutality is ridiculous too, but in this case specifically it was quite telling that ive seen more homophobic complaints than the usual issues people have with this form of art.

[daz4i]

just saw ake//shu art and thought it was fyo//zai. i need to go to bed

[rafeandonlyrafe]

you're not his girlfriend

words: 700

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, riding, angsty/sad ending, controlling rafe, drinking/partying, mention of physical violence, drug dealing, reader taking drugs/getting high

you’re not his girlfriend, but you do attend every party on rafes arm, his hand placed securely around your waist, giving warning looks to any man who stares a little too long at you, a little too long at your long legs in the short dress or your cleavage spilling out the top.

you’re not his girlfriend, but rafe saves the best of his stash for you, of course never making you pay. his eyes are possessive and lustful as you snort the line of coke off of his finger before collapsing into his body. he cares for you throughout your high, getting you whatever you need, talking to you, keeping you calm and happy.

you’re not his girlfriend, but spend hours riding his dick, bouncing and grinding after you convinced him to finally let you take control, his arms behind his head, a lazy grin on his face, watching your tits bounce with every movement, determined to make him cum as deep as possible inside of you. rafe only helps out when you cum, body shaking as he pushes you down onto his cock, cumming in time with you.

you’re not his girlfriend, but when ward kicks him out of the house, you’re the first person he calls. he pretends hes doing it for you, eating the ice cream and watching the cheesy movies, but when you cuddle up in bed, your arms around him, you both know that all the comfort is for him to feel better, to feel at home.

you’re not his girlfriend, but when you are chatting with another guy at a party, rafe gets furious, pulling you away, about to deck him straight in the face when your hands wrap around his bicep, explaining that the guy is gay, and you weren't flirting. rafe doesn’t punch the guy, but does take you upstairs into the bathroom and fucks you against the sink.

you’re not his girlfriend, but when he has to go away for a week for some business with ward, he tasks topper with looking after you, adding kelce in as well, needing to make sure you were looked after, with strict warnings not to touch you or get too friendly. you’re nice to the boys, inviting them inside for lemonade, knowing they’ll follow whatever rafe says.

you’re not his girlfriend, but he moans into your ear about how much he loves your pussy as he’s thrusting into you, making a mess of your cunt, his cock splitting you in half as his hands grip your waist, leaving bruises on your skin from how tight he’s holding you, but you love the marks, physical reminders of his impact on you.

you’re not his girlfriend, but you hang out with his little sister wheezie, taking her on shopping sprees with rafes credit card and out to ice cream.

you’re not his girlfriend, but rafe invites you over for movie nights, cuddling close to you. he holds you throughout the night, for once not putting his hand down your pants as he strokes a hand over your hair absentmindedly, eyes on the screen.

you’re not his girlfriend, but he invites you as his date to midsummers, matching his tie with the color of your dress. he spins you around the dance floor and looks happy being there for once. 

you’re not his girlfriend, but he makes sure you get your favorite drink at a party, holding it for you when you go to dance with your girls, fingers twitching impatiently as you move on the dance floor under his watchful eyes, waiting for you to be back within reach. he lets out a breath of relief when you rejoin him, press yourself into his side and finish off your drink.

you’re not his girlfriend, even though you wrap your arms around him and kiss as his hips move slowly, his cock pushing gently in and out, slowly, deeply. he moans into your mouth, enjoying the slow and smooth motions of your bodies connecting, of being one.

you’re not his girlfriend, so you don’t say anything when you see him dancing with another girl.

you’re not his girlfriend when you watch him take her upstairs.

you’re not his girlfriend, but it doesn’t stop your heart from shattering.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude

[strangersteddierthings]

February 2

rating: T cw: period-typical slurs, mild violence prompt: Love is protection

The punch doesn't land. Michael stands frozen before him, arm raised to swing as they both turn towards the shout on instinct.

Eddie watches in slow motion as Steve Harrington sprints down the alley towards them as if summoned from Eddie's fantasies directly, determination on his face. The world returns to its regular speed as Steve reaches them.

Steve takes hold of Michael's arm at the same time Eddie feels himself stagger back several feet from where the new altercation is happening. It's not a conscious decision to put some space between himself and Michael, he's too busy watching Steve use his momentum to make Michael spin with him, or risk getting his arm broken, to think too much about what his body is doing.

Steve lets go of Michael suddenly, which sends him slamming into the wall of the bar Eddie and he had exited just minutes before.

"Come on!" Steve shouts, suddenly in front of Eddie and grabbing him by the wrist, dragging him down the alley until Eddie gets his feet under him and then they're both running. Steve takes a right, and even though Eddie's van is to the left, he follows. He can come back for the van and might actually prefer to. He doesn't want Michael to see what he drives.

They run a few blocks down before ducking into a different alleyway. It's not necessary, this much distance and the hiding. Michael wouldn't give chase. Eddie knew from experience that they rarely do, the men that don't like hearing no.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, immediately assessing Eddie for damage. His shoulder kind of smarts from when Michael shoved him against the wall, there's a dull ache from his scalp where his hair had been yanked at, and he thinks if he takes off his jacket there will be a mark on his upper arm where Michael grabbed him when Eddie changed his mind and tried to leave, but physically that's it. Mentally, though?

Mentally, Steve just rescued him from a man that could be his twin, so that's got to be telling. Well, twin is a bit of a stretch. There were no moles dotting Michael like constellations, no signature hair swoop (though hair length was almost a perfect match), and his butt was far too flat but there's no way to deny he was a stand in for who Eddie actually wanted. Michael was even a jock, given what little Eddie and he had spoken about before heading outside to smoke, or so Eddie had thought.

So, all in all, is Eddie okay? No!

"Yeah. Yeah, fine," Eddie says.

"That guy threw you into the wall."

The adrenaline is fading, and shame replaces it. Why is Steve here? How much of what happened did he witness? "And I'm fine. Thanks for the assist, but what are you even doing here?"

Steve frowns at him. "I was- I just, just was checking in on you. You weren't answering the phone and Dustin was-"

"But how are you here!? How long have you been here?" Eddie interrupts, "how did you know where to find me?"

Steve takes a step back, puts a little distance between them. "I just drove around until I saw your van."

Eddie blinks at him. "You drove around Indy, searching for my van. How- what?"

"Yeah! And lucky I did," Steve says, like the idea of searching all of Indianapolis for one van isn't insane. "That guy was gonna kick your ass if I hadn't shown up!"

"He'd of gotten a few good punches in before I got away," Eddie waves off Steve's concern. "Not my first rodeo, Stevie."

"This happens often? Why do you keep coming back!?"

"Why does the faggot keep going to gay bars? Gee, I don't think we'll ever know, Steve," Eddie sneers, defensive for no reason. He hates that he does thing. That he lashes out at people just concerned for his safety. Steve just threw a guy into a wall for daring to try and punch him, why can't he just be grateful?

Steve scowls, "why're you being a dick to me? What the fuck did I do?"

Eddie lets out a sigh, "Nothing you don't usually do."

Steve throws up his hands and marches in a circle, apparently too frustrated for words and Eddie hates how smitten he is. It's adorable. Steve's anger is cute, and that's the problem. That's why he was at that bar, a gay bar, in the first place. To wallow in his unrequited love and maybe get off with a stranger he could pretend was Steve if he squinted and it was dark.

And now the man he is hopelessly in love with has come and saved him, once again; this time from a man who wanted something Eddie wasn't going to give in an alleyway at 3:30 in the afternoon, who didn't take "no" well, and everything had escalated from there.

"What do you want me to say, Steve? Thank you for protecting me? Thank you for always managing to show up exactly when I need you? If so, thank you!"

"Why does it bother you that I care if you're safe or not!"

"Because it's you!" Eddie screams.

Steve's eyes widen and his lips part in shock, a look that morphs into hurt. "I... see. I- let me walk you back to your van and I'll get outta your hair."

Eddie hates that he's hurt Steve, because he's an asshole that lashes out. He knows that whatever conclusion Steve's come to in his mind is wrong. He knows that Steve is blaming himself, trying to find out where he went wrong but he didn't. Eddie did.

"Not yet. Please. If Michael's still there I don't want him to see what car I get into. Y'know. Just in case." Eddie doesn't say it to get sympathy points, but he watches as Steve softens anyway.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course."

They wait in silence, and Eddie hates how tense it feels. But he made this bed.

-

Continued with tomorrow's prompt.

@steddielovemonth @nburkhardt @i-less-than-three-you @afewproblems @skepsiss

[springwitch26]

your writing is so fucking hot and perfect! pls can I request a fic where mel ends up getting possessive and jealous after seeing someone hitting on her girlfriend (reader) at abbott and when they get home, melissa makes sure that her girl knows that belongs to her and nobody else.

(featuring a lot of rough sex and some cute aftercare cuz we all love jealous schemmenti. 🤭)

a dangerous emotion (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

summary: when the new substitute teacher hits on you in front of melissa, you face the dirty consequences of her jealousy.

warnings: smut (18+), jealous sex, aggressive male flirting, mel threatens violence (it's melissa), squirting, like one mention of marking

notes: the sleepy witch is back. hope you like this one anon, sorry if i left it in the oven too long. also sorry for any other deficiencies tbh writing is a struggle rn. bonus points to whoever can spot the gay joke 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 friendly fire.

if looks could kill, this fucking guy would be a pile of ash by now.

the teachers' lounge was uncharacteristically quiet. the tv had been muted; nobody cared to watch the morning news. all eyes flickered between you and the new male teacher on one side of the room, and your seething girlfriend on the other.

the redhead was visibly furious from the moment he walked in the door, eyes dragging down your body in your flowery sundress and matching tights.

"happy first day to me," he murmured to himself, thinking nobody would hear it. it took all of melissa's self-control and professionalism not to punch his lights out.

"spring looks good on you, sweetie," he drawled from behind you as you poured coffee from the communal pot into your favorite mug.

the hem of your dress floated up as you spun around to face him, and he licked his lips. you didn't notice it, but melissa did. her hands tightened into fists in her lap.

"thank you," you smiled warmly at the man in an attempt to be polite. he was tall and stocky, probably just a few years older than you. he seemed like the kind of guy who was used to getting whatever he wanted from women—with his handsome yet cocky grin and large arms crossed in front of his chest. "are you new here?"

"yep, and i like what i see already," he threw you a wink and you looked down at the floor. you heard melissa cracking her knuckles in the background. she only did that when she was holding back, either from pouncing on you or swinging at somebody else. "i'm jesse. i'll be teachin' math up on the second floor until ms. summers gets back from maternity leave.

"well, jesse, welcome to abbott," you said sweetly, hoping to escape this conversation and join your girlfriend on the couch. "i'm a first-grade teacher, so i won't be seeing you much. but it's nice to meet y—"

"actually, i was hoping you'd show me around," he cut you off, taking a few steps toward you. "if i get lost in this building, my preteen students will never let me live it down."

"oh, um..."

before you could finish your thought, he leaned in and whispered something in your ear. melissa saw the whole exchange, enraged at this man's audacity to even breathe in your direction. you were her girl. everybody knew that. and it was time for this guy to learn.

but when melissa stood up to confront him, you did something that made her see red: you walked out with him. the other teachers noticed her anger, of course, and tried to calm her down.

"melissa, relax," barbara said, gently pulling on her best friend's hand and guiding her to sit back down. "he's harmless."

"harmless?" melissa repeated indignantly. "barb, he was lookin' at her like he wanted to bend her over the damn table!"

"you look at her like that all the time..." gregory muttered, and melissa raised an eyebrow at him in accusation. he shrugged and averted his gaze.

"i look at her like i love her!" melissa insisted. "and she's my girlfriend. i get to look at her however i want. this jamie—"

"jesse," janine corrected.

"—can't just walk in and start undressin' her with his eyes!"

"if it helps, i can keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't do anything untoward," jacob offered. "i'm pretty much the big dog on the second floor these days. i can set him straight if it comes to that."

"you couldn't even set yourself straight," melissa fired back, and jacob gave the camera a defeated look. "what, you think i can't handle this myself?"

"well, it's just that... jealousy is a dangerous emotion on you," jacob answered tentatively.

"jealousy? what am i, some kinda teenager? i don't get jealous."

"i don't know, you seemed pretty jealous at pecsa last year when the keynote speaker gave y/n his room number," gregory pointed out.

"he was just annoying."

"you poured your math-a-rita on his white suit jacket," janine chimed in.

"the jabroni shouldn't have worn white to a bar!"

"melissa, i know you're protective of y/n, but she's a grown woman capable of making her own decisions," barbara said, placing a comforting hand over the redhead's clenched fists. "she doesn't seem to have a problem with the man. at some point, you just need to trust her judgment."

"yeah, she and i are going to have a little conversation about her judgment when she gets back."

"whose judgment?" you asked as you strode back into the break room, jesse following close behind.

when your question was met with silence and anxious looks from your friends, jesse took hold of your hand and brought it to his lips.

"thanks for the tour, cutie," he said after pressing a chaste kiss to the back of your hand.

"thank you," you replied, shifting uneasily and look over your shoulder in anticipation of melissa's reaction. she didn't keep you waiting long.

"hey, hon," melissa approached the two of you, then hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you close. "the kids'll be here in half an hour, do you wanna go prep your classroom for the science lab?"

"i did that last night," you replied, not taking the hint.

"of course you did," mel cooed and planted a kiss behind your ear. jesse quirked an eyebrow in confusion. "maybe i just want some alone time with my lovely girlfriend before i start my day. that okay with you?"

you nodded sheepishly and leaned in to her. you could feel her possessive anger in her tough grip on your waist, could see it in the subtle wild edge to her green eyes. despite being in deep trouble, you still relaxed into the warmth of her casual touch and the familiar scent of patchouli on her skin.

jesse took a step back, opening his mouth as if to say something and sighing instead. as you and melissa exited the breakroom, jesse tried one more time to get your attention.

"hey, if you need any more—"

"i think we're good, janine," melissa cut him off with a dismissive gesture.

"it's jesse," the man sighed with a frustrated look at the camera.

---

"what the hell was that, huh?" melissa had you pinned up against her classroom door before you could even process what was happening. "you're givin' free tours now?"

"n-no!" you stammered frantically, squirming with unease (and excitement) at the fiery confrontation. "not free! i only did it so he would give me the extra chairs from his classroom. you know i've been down a few since the eighth graders tried to make 'chairing' a thing, and i can't let my kids spend another day on the floor. it's not fair!"

"how many times have i told you, i can get you anything you need?"

"yeah, and where's your 'chair guy' now? at least jesse can finish the job!"

oh, you fucked up. you knew it the moment the words left your mouth. melissa eased off of you physically, but her intense glare kept you frozen in place.

"we'll talk about this when we get home. i love you; don't forget it," melissa pecked your cheek and you cocked your head, confused at her sudden tranquility. she moved to whisper in your ear. "because tonight, i'm takin' all my jealousy out on you."

---

you had the misfortune of running into jesse one more time before the day was done. he wolf-whistled from behind you as you walked briskly from your classroom to the lobby, ready to meet melissa and head home.

melissa might have broken his nose if jacob and gregory hadn't been there to hold her back. in fact, she was a split-second away from swinging when jacob took hold of her dominant wrist, shaking his head. gregory followed suit with the other.

the redhead tried to wrench her arms free and glared sternly at the young men when she couldn't. sensing her frustration, you hurried over to her. melissa's gaze softened as soon as she saw you leaning over the counter. you gave jacob and gregory an appreciative nod.

the pair let go of her arms and you took her hands in yours. "let's go home," you said.

the two of you walked out of the building as jacob and gregory approached jesse.

"she's not interested, if you're still wondering," jacob said, patting jesse's shoulder in mock sympathy.

"should be pretty obvious by now," gregory added.

"first day, and you pissed off my scariest teacher and my favorite?" ava said while strutting out of her office. "nice career move, jason," she snarked. the teachers gave her a bewildered look. "what? i pay attention!"

---

once you got home, it all happened in a blur. melissa's possessive rage had you slipping into that fuzzy, pliable headspace before she even slammed the bedroom door behind you.

you couldn't concentrate on much besides her forceful touch, fingers digging into your hips and mouth sucking bruises into your neck. her low voice cut through the static occasionally, but she seemed to be venting to herself rather than you.

"mine..." her fingernails dug into the flesh of your waist. "touchin' my girl..." she spaced out the words between nips to your neck. "gotta mark you up, let the whole world know..." she landed a hard swat on your ass, then shoved you off of her. "on the bed."

---

"remind me again what he said when you spilled coffee on your shirt," melissa growled from above you. you were spread out on her bed, naked with your legs kept apart by turquoise ropes tied to the bedposts.

"he said, 'feel free to take it off. i wouldn't complain about the view,'" you whispered back.

"and you just let that slide, hm? you entertained him knowin' all he wanted was an eyeful of your tits?"

"yes, melissa."

"i'm sorry, does someone need a reminder of who owns her? i'm happy to provide, sweet girl. tell me," she dipped a finger into your folds and stroked you lightly, "who gets you this wet?"

"you do, ah, only you," you whimpered as she caressed you.

"uh-huh," she cooed, sounding unsatisfied still. "that's right, baby. and i'm the only one who gets to see you like this."

she gripped your hips harshly before gliding her hands up to your chest. she kneaded the swollen flesh of your tits and then zeroed in on your nipples, tweaking and tugging on them.

"that fucker," melissa began, breathing heavily. "will never know how soft these are."

you shook your head in frantic agreement as she massaged you. one of her hands slipped down between your legs again.

"he'll never hear how your breath catches in your throat when your clit's touched," she whispered, beginning to rub soft circles into your bundle of nerves. "or—" she withdrew suddenly and gave your pussy a swat, "how you cry at a spanking."

her jealous attitude had you soaked and sensitive. you were already close when she brought two fingers to your entrance and pushed in.

"and if he ever even imagines the face you make when you come, that pretty little lip bite you do," melissa pumped and curled her fingers roughly, "i'll take edith houghton to'm."

her speed quickly picked up and soon she was diving into you with force, bullying your g-spot with her fingertips.

"come. now," she ordered, and you fell over the edge. you spasmed around her fingers as she drove them in and out of you. she smirked with pride as she looked down at you.

but when you got too sensitive and started to squirm away from her touch, she doubled down. she pumped her fingers faster, and dipped down to suckle on your clit. you cried out. it felt like you were on fire, but the burn was oh so delicious.

"and he'll never guess what happens when you get all sensitive..." she picked her head up momentarily to say this before sucking hard on your nub and crooking her fingers inside you.

you felt the burn rise into a hot tidal wave. a flood of warm liquid spilled out of you. melissa helped you through it before withdrawing her touch, her hands retreating to your thighs. she looked down at you fondly, smiling with only a tiny bit of smug satisfaction.

"god, i love when you do that," she mused, smiling at your dazed, pretty, happy face. "it's like a gift just for me."

a gift. happy first day to me, he had said.

now reminded, melissa was pissed again. but the venom of her jealousy had trickled away, and now all that remained was an urgent need to give you the love and care you deserved.

"but you said somethin' earlier about 'finishing the job.' and i just feel like my job isn't finished, sweetheart," she smiled and cupped your cheeks. "how's a bubble bath sound?"

"mm-hmmm," you managed, fucked out and delirious.

---

"i really wasn't jealous, ya know," melissa murmured into your ear as you snuggled into bed, her chest pressed against your back.

"i find that hard to believe. i mentioned his name and you ripped my panties," you teased.

"okay, maybe a little bit."

"30 percent?"

"20."

"25."

"fine."

"then what was the other 75 percent?"

"i guess it just pisses me off when people don't treat you right. you're a beautiful angel, not a sex doll."

"i don't want you to feel... to feel like you have to take care of me all the time."

"baby girl, you know i don't do things i don't wanna do. you're the love of my life. i wanna spend every minute treatin' you like a princess."

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Impressions

Pairing: Will Miller x Reader

Notes: Idk y'all my brain spit this out. I haven’t written Will in, like…..100 years?

Rating: Mature - mostly for language

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, angst, fluff. Not beta-read.

Length: 7.5K

Summary: Your first two impressions that you get of Will Miller are pretty stellar. That said, they don't actually involve meeting the guy.

The day you do, well. That's another story.

GIF by charllehunnam

Your first impression of Will Miller is technically...Good.

It's from Benny, is the thing.

You hear the sweet and the sour, the grumbling when Benny is training at the gym alone in the mornings—"He's a hard ass, but he means well."

It's said with a little smile, with sibling love and familiarity that tells you that Ben and Will have told each other to go fuck themselves just as much as they've said that they're proud of one another.

Your second impression of Will comes from Terry.

Terrence Owen McLowery is your best friend, your informal trainee, and is currently ranked in the Middleweight division, just a few spots behind Ben Miller (but gaining, and fast). He's one of the few openly gay boxers in your area and in his division, something that he might get more hate for if he couldn't kick the shit out of anyone slagging his name off behind his back.

Terry gets to as many matches as he possibly can, even when he's not fighting in them. You try to join him as often as you can, but there are times when you just can't swing it. He likes to scope out the competition.

"I'm gonna be in there, kickin' their ass one day," He tells you, "I should clock their weaknesses now, not then."

He spends more time ringside than he does in the ring for the sake of observation. And he's seen the Miller brothers at fight after fight.

"You oughta see 'im," Terry says, a dreamy look in his eyes—and you don't know if he's talking about Ben or Will, but you kinda figure it's both. Look, you've met Ben, you wouldn't be surprised if good genes ran in the family.

"He's real level-headed, ringside, even when Ben’s in a jam," Terry adds, and you realize that he's talking about Will, "Kinda like you, but without the taunting."

You roll your eyes a little bit, "You told me the taunting makes you try harder."

"Hmph."

"And I told you a real coach wouldn't do that,” You tack on.

Terry doesn't hmph at that one. He doesn't like it when you point out that you're not a professional coach. You taught him the basics a long time ago, back when the two of you needed to have one another's backs on the playground—and you keep him honest when he's training up now. But Terry needs a coach that'll actually help him in the ring, not do what you do. And sure, you don't do the worst job, but Terry could go further with a professional.

--

Your first two impressions that you get of Will Miller are pretty stellar. That said, they don't actually involve meeting the guy.

The day you do, well. That's another story.

--

You’re at the gym early. Terry is supposed to be there, too, but he took a late shift at work and couldn’t drag himself out of bed. You don’t blame him—a body needs rest if you’re going to put it through its paces. You’re striding past the ring at the center of the gym when you spot Ben sparring with another contender in the middleweight division. You spot an error, one that Terry makes frequently himself, and call out,

“Pick up your right shoulder, Miller!” 

The advice incurs a nod from Ben—and a glare from a golden-headed man standing ringside. Something in his cool gaze chastens you, and you hurry on toward the class you signed up for. 

--

“What was with that guy?” You ask Ben later as you’re stretching. 

“What guy?”

“Blonde, bearded…Glaring?” You remind him. Ben’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You mean Will?”

“That was Will?” You ask in a hushed whisper. 

“Yeah. Glaring?”

“He looked like he was trying to melt me with his laser vision.” 

It makes Benny’s laugh boom in the gym, and you glance around to see if you’ve attracted any attention. Sure enough, Will’s not too far off, his arms folded across his chest as he speaks to someone. His gaze darts between Ben and you, and his eyes narrow. 

“Aaaand there it is again,” You mutter, drawing your legs back from the stretch. 

-- 

“Hey,” You hear. You frown, turning back to the source, and find Will striding toward you. You’re about to offer your hand, to introduce yourself—in relation to Ben, or Terry, something—but he speaks again before you can get a word out:

“Ben’s got a fight coming up. He doesn’t need any glove bunnies distracting him.” 

Your mouth was opened to speak, but now your jaw drops, a scoff of indignation flying out. 

“Glove bunnies?” You repeat, stunned. Will waves you off. 

“Whatever Ben does in his own time is none of my business, but when he’s here, and when he’s in the ring, he needs to be focused.” 

Will doesn’t let you get in another word before he’s turning and walking away. You watch him go, stunned. Asshole. Asshole. As you turn to head into the locker room, you remember Ben telling you that he’s a hard ass, but he means well. 

Well-meaning or not, Will Miller is a dick. 

--

“There’s a man outside who’s looking for you,” You hear.

You glance up from your laptop, brows raised at your coworker. It couldn’t be Terry; he’d call or text you, not ask for you. And it can’t be…Actually, you can’t think of any other guy that would come looking for you at work. 

“Did you tell him I was in here?”

“I said I wasn’t sure anyone by that name worked here and that I’d check,” Molly relays. You nod a little bit, muttering, “Solid,” before adding, “He say who he is?” 

“Will Miller?”

You freeze, then, hands hovering over your keyboard. What the hell is Miller doing there? And how does he know where you work?

“Okay,” You nod, “Okay, tell him I’ll be out in a...A minute.” 

“Sure.” Molly starts to drift away from you before she turns, half-jogging back to your desk. 

“He is so hot,” She hisses. You can't help your grudging smile. 

“Yes, he is.” 

Asshole or not, you can agree that Will Miller is annoyingly, startlingly attractive. 

--

The man that meets you outside is a far cry from the one who accosted you at the gym just a week ago. In a well-fitting polo and a pair of khakis, he looks more like a suburban dad than a hardened drillmaster. You stop just a few feet from the door to your office, arms folded tightly over your chest. He clears his throat, approaching you slowly and stopping just a couple of steps from you. 

“Ben had a fight this weekend,” He says. Him starting that way makes your stomach swoop with fear. You immediately worry that something’s gone wrong, that Ben is badly hurt. But Will goes on: 

“He kept his right shoulder up. That little tip saved his ass a few times.” 

Your brows raise. You didn’t expect him to admit it, even if it did help. 

“I saw Terry, too,” Will adds, “And realized precisely how and where I fucked up when he showed me a picture of you.”

Will doesn't look like he's trying to melt you with his heat vision anymore. In fact, he looks...Genuinely remorseful.

“I see,” You nod a little. 

Will pushes a sigh out through his nose. 

“I’m sorry for approaching the situation the way I did. And for calling you a, uh—”

“Glove bunny?”

He winces with the reminder. “Yeah. I didn’t have all of the facts. Even if I had, it was still the wrong way to approach the situation, and I apologize.” 

You take a moment to drink in his face again, as if you’re seeing it for the first time. His blue eyes are soft where they were icy, and the once-harsh press of his lips is replaced with a regretful, almost contemplative pout. And then you nod a touch.

“I appreciate and accept your apology.” 

Something akin to relief seems to wash over him, and he holds his hand out. 

“I’m Will, by the way.” 

“Will?” You repeat, screwing your face up in mock confusion, “Will...Will...That certainly sounds familiar.”

A smile tugs his lips up just a touch as he pumps your hand up and down. 

“I train Ben Miller. I'm his brother,” He adds. 

“Oh, that Will. Right, of course.” 

You let his hand drop and folded your arms across your chest. 

“Blank slate,” You add softly. 

Will’s brows jump. 

“Completely?”

“Well, Ben says you’re a hard ass and Terry thinks you’re dreamy, but I’ll try not to let their impressions color mine.” 

“Pretty mixed reviews.”

“Mhm.” 

The two of you exchange curious smiles before you nod over your shoulder. 

“I’ve gotta get back to work."

“Of course.”

“See you around, Miller.” 

--

“Seriously, Terrence!” You call out as Terry spars with one of the other gym members, “Is this prep or are you trying to waltz him into tapping out?” 

Terry groans, reeling away from his sparring partner. 

“God, you’re a bitch,” He grunts as he walks toward you, bending over for his water. 

“And you’re a dumbass, Billy Elliot. Get back in there.” 

“He’s holding his breath,” You hear. You turn back to see Will Miller coming closer.

“When he punches,” He clarifies. 

“You can tell him,” You offer before you whistle sharply, stopping Terry from stepping more deeply into the ring. You nod toward Will and listen as he offers his tip. Terry takes his time listening, nodding, leaning against the ropes.

“...Think you got it?” You ask.

“Loud and clear,” Terry agrees before turning back to his sparring partner.

You glance over at Will, nodding your chin up. “Thanks."

“Sure,” Will smiles before walking away. Ben’s not too far away, working at a punching bag. You watch Will for a long moment before turning back to Terry in the ring. Terry ducks out of the way of an oncoming jab, and finds time to shoot you a wink before he turns back to his sparring partner. 

--

“Terry—” 

“Come on—” 

“I can’t tonight, I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow!” 

“Just a few rounds! Come with me, see Ben in action—and see what I mean about Will ring-side.”

“You just want me to go because you think you’ll be much less conspicuous drooling over them if I’m there.” 

“Maybe.”

“And for the record, you’d be just as conspicuous.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Yes we do.” 

“Come with meeee," He whines. "If you’re not there, I’ll curse out a redneck bigot and I’ll get in trouble for beating him up in the parking lot.” 

“Well then you and the Millers can tag team.” 

Terry groans loudly, tipping his head back. “Don’t. Don’t even think about putting ‘Miller’ and ‘tag team’ in the same sentence. My mind just went to about eight filthy places.” 

“Just eight?”

“Alright, nine.”

“Terry. Sweetheart. Angel. Not tonight.” 

“Four rounds.” 

“No.” 

“Two rounds.” 

“Terry—”

“Ben’ll probably take ‘em down in one.” 

“I’m sure he’d love that you have so much faith in his skill, but we’ll have to get through the matches before his, and that’ll already be way late.” 

“I won’t make you come to the gym with me tomorrow.” 

“Probably because you won’t make it to the gym tomorrow.”  

“That’s not the point.” 

--

You didn’t always love the atmosphere around the fight. You used to hate the screaming, the overpriced beer, the rednecks. It used to make you wary, going with Terry. People knew him. It's not secret that he's gay. He used to catch more shit for it before he bulked up and started fighting. Even after he had, the slurs hadn’t stopped. It used to raise your hackles—but Terry’s got more of a handle on how he approaches those incidents, and he’s made a lot of friends that frequent the ring, both as spectators, and in the Middleweight division.

You wouldn’t say that you like going to fights now, but you don’t find it as daunting as you used to. Now, the atmosphere is exciting—it zips through you like lightning; it makes your fingers tingle, and your heart pound. 

“Here,” Terry calls out, pressing a beer into your hand. 

“I told you I’ve got work tomorrow!” 

“I got two for myself, you’re just holding that one for me.” 

“Bullshit,” You laugh, looking up at the ring as the bell sounds. 

By the time the first two fights are down, you know you should leave. It’s late, and it’s only going to get later—you’ve had three beers, and Terry’s coming back with another one. 

“Terry, I really shouldn’t—”

“Ben’s coming down the hall,” He half-yells into your ear, and you have to stop yourself from muttering, ‘Fucking finally,’ when it bubbles up in you. You push it down with a gulp of beer, glancing back and trying to catch sight of the Millers. You see Benny’s chestnut hair; Will’s bright head bobs into view just moments later. You and Terry begin to cheer almost on instinct as they come more fully into view—as Benny heads into the ring, and Will rounds the corner. Will looks around, and his eyes catch on you and Terry. He raises his hand to give Terry a pat on the shoulder, and meets your eyes dead-on. 

It’s a half-second, that’s all, but it seems to last for far longer. If anyone asked you what happened in that half-second, you’d tell them that you nodded to him—you know that for sure, because he nods, too. You’re not sure if it’s the beer, or the crackling of the air around you, but your skin feels hot. You don’t even know if you’re smiling. But Will’s gaze holds on yours for a long time, even as he walks on. When he finally looks away, you can feel your heart thudding in the vicinity of your throat. 

Terry leans over, his shoulder nudging yours as he speaks into your ear:

“Distracted much?” 

“...What?” You manage, tipping your head back toward him as you watch Benny climb into the ring.

“Uh-huh.” 

When you glance up at Terry, you find him grinning smugly, and you reach out, shoving his shoulder as you grumble, “Shut up.” As the bell sounds, you yell out, “Let’s go!” and vaguely register Will’s yell of, “It’s time to work!” 

--

Ben is a hunter in the ring.

You can’t help but compare the way he fights with the way Terry fights. Terry prefers to hold back, to let his opponent dance around and tire themselves out. Terry is a slow-burn; Benny is a wildfire. Will is as much wind to guide his brother as he throws gasoline on Benny’s flame, honing his path and stoking his focus on the rare occasions that Benny takes a hard hit or seems to flounder. 

You plan to only stay for a couple of rounds, but before you know it, you’re cheering Benny as his opponent is knocked down, and stays down. The ref takes hold of Benny’s wrist, holding it up as he proclaims him the winner, and you and Terry crow with excitement. As the crowd begins to flow—as Benny is led out to be checked over by the ring doctor—you turn to Terry, ready to insist again that you have to leave. But you feel a hand land on your shoulder, and turn your head to see Will leaning in. He gets close between you and Terry, and asks over the hum of the crowd, “What are you guys doing now?” 

--

You should be more concerned about the fact that tomorrow morning (well, later this morning) is going to be absolute hell for you. You should be concerned about the fact that when you get home, whenever you get home, you’re probably going to need to have a couple of pieces of toast and a few glasses of water. Your head is buzzing with the beers you had at the fight, and now with the two that you’ve had at the bar. But the zipwire-tense feeling that had ripped through you is ebbing as you watch Benny return from the bar with a massive basket of fries and a fresh round of beers.

Oh, man. You’re really gonna regret this tomorrow. 

You push the thought away as you reach out, taking up a precariously full beer and leaning back in your seat. 

“Surprised you’ve got such a sedate after party,” Terry comments as he takes one of the beers. 

“Fewer glove bunnies than I expected,” You add, eyes sliding to Will’s, where he sits across from you. He appears to bite back a smile, eyes dipping to the table. Benny’s eyes dart between the two of you, brow furrowing, and you give a small, reassuring shake of your head. 

“I have a question,” Benny declares, leaning against the table. 

“Has it got anything to do with that swelling cheek?” Terry asks, waving a finger toward Benny’s face. 

“No,” Benny huffs, “I know how all about that. How’d you two meet?” He asks. You glance at Terry, arching a brow as he turns to you with a grin. 

“School,” Is your short answer. 

“I moved in around, like…Fifth grade-ish?” Terry’s brow furrows. 

“It wasn’t fifth-grade-ish, it was fifth grade,” You correct. 

“I wasn’t the most social kid, and that caught me a lot of shit. I got picked on, and this one,” Terry pushes his shoulder against yours, and you sway with it, bobbing back and forth, “Taught me how to keep from getting my ass kicked on the way home.” 

“Seriously?” Ben asks. You shrug a little. 

“It started with short-cuts to get him home, but when other kids caught on, things got a bit more…Physical.” 

“Did you already know how to fight?” Will asks. 

“I wouldn’t say that. I knew how to swing a fist, I didn’t really know how to fight. We both learned to, though, because we…Had to.”

“She’s been stuck with me ever since,” Terry sighs dramatically. You roll your eyes, turning a fond smile up at him. 

“He’s like my taller, irritating younger brother,” You add.

“I know all about that,” Will pipes up, and you can’t help but turn a laugh at him. 

“So what about you two, how did you two meet?” You tease, waving your finger between them. 

“Oh, man,” Ben mutters. 

“Well I came home one day and my mom said, ‘We have a surprise for you’,” Will says, “And then six months later, this dick shows up.” 

“And he’s been stuck with me ever since,” Ben smiles, glancing at Will. You reach out, plucking up a couple of the fries and dipping them in ketchup. 

“Did you guys get along growing up?” 

“We don’t even get along now,” Ben teases. Will chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Not always. We butt heads as kids, and we do sometimes now, but…We get our shit done.” 

“He’s a hardass,” Ben cuts in.

“And he’s a dumbass.”

You grin. “So you complement each other is what I’m hearing.” 

--  

“Haven’t seen you in a couple of days.” 

You’re taking a long pull from your water bottle, fighting the dryness in your throat when you hear Will. 

“What can I say,” You manage as you lower it. “I only just recovered from going out with y’all the other night.” 

Will chuckles, leaning against the pillar beside you as you wipe down your treadmill. 

“Didn’t mean to tire you out.” 

“I’m out of practice. Terry hasn’t had a fight in a couple of months, so I don’t stay up that late anymore.” 

“No?”

“Nope. I’m in bed at 9:30 and I like it.” 

You take up your water bottle, and the two of you start drifting away from the treadmills.

“Why hasn’t Terry been in the ring?” Will plies. 

“His rotator cuff’s kinda fucked up. He’s been taking it easy—Well. As easy as he's willing to take it. He has a check-in with his doctor in a couple of weeks.” 

“That must be driving him nuts.” 

“Oh, he’s losing it. He’s trying to go to as many fights as he can, though.”

“I’ve seen him at a few lately—Besides, Benny’s, you know. I was wondering why you didn’t go with him.” 

You stop at the door to the women’s locker room and turn around to face him. 

“Bed. 9:30,” You reiterate.

“Well I know that now.” Will tucks his hands into his pockets, smiling. “I wanted to ask: Do you think you could see it in yourself to duck your bedtime again?” 

“Depends on what for.” 

“There’s a fight down in Fernsworth this weekend. There’s a new kid on the bill, he’s apparently pretty vicious.” 

“Oh yeah? When this weekend?” 

“Friday.” 

You consider, lips pursing, and Will chuckles at your expression.

“What is it?” He asks.

“Terry’s got work that night.” 

“So’s Ben.” 

Your gut swoops in surprise, a brow lifting and falling quickly, but Will’s face remains as calm as ever.

“So?” Will presses. If you were reading into it, you’d think he was batting his pretty eyelashes. Before you can overthink it, you hold your hand out and order: “Phone.”

Will rifles into his pocket and pulls it out, passing it over. You add yourself as a contact, your heart thudding in your chest, ears going hot as you double-check that it’s right. You pass it back to Will, meeting his eyes again. “You can send me all the details.”

“Don’t feel like talking to me anymore?”

“I have to go to work, Miller,” You laugh, taking a couple of steps back. “Text me—And keep an eye out for those glove bunnies.” 

“Always.” 

You get one last look at Will, at his sweet, amused smile, and you turn, heading in to take a shower (and maybe to silently scream into your hands, a little). 

--  

You don’t dress up, and you do not tell Terry where you’re going, or with whom. It’s been bad enough that he clocked your swell of interest when you’d gone out with all of them, and worse still that he’s encouraged it. You’d been pressing your hands down onto the tops of his shoes, ensuring that his feet stayed flat as he worked on his core.

“At least—fuck him,” Terry had insisted as he’d come up from reps of crunches. “Do you—have any idea—what’d I’d do tuh—Phew—Have those pretty—blue eyes pointed at me—like that?” 

You’d raised your brow, casting a wary eye about to ensure that neither of the Miller brothers were anywhere nearby before you’d insisted, “Nothing is going to happen between me and Will.” 

“Why—the hell—not?” Terry gasped, finishing out his reps. He groaned, sweeping his hand across his sweating brow before planting both hands on the mat behind himself. “He’s leaps and bounds better than the other assholes you used to fuck with.” 

Like it or not, you knew Terry was right.

For your rough and real first impression, Will is actually kinda sweet. You still don’t know him all that well, and maybe tonight could change that. But you insist to yourself that you’re not going out to flirt with Will, you’re going to see this new fighter (Charlie “Shredder” Klein: 5’9, 194 pounds, rookie, southpaw) and gather some info for when, inevitably, Terry winds up fighting the guy. You dress…Comfortably, in one of your nicer pairs of jeans and one of your favorite tops. You feel cute, and you feel cute for you. If Will thinks that you’re cute in the outfit, well…That’s just a bonus. 

You don’t think he would tell you, though. Will Miller seems like the type to keep his cards close to his chest. 

The ride down to the venue is filled with polite small talk. The feeling in the cab of his truck is almost like the same nervous air of a first date. Your stomach is twisting like a nest of garter snakes; your skin is hot with nerves; you rub your sweaty palms nervously against your jeans. The two of you stick close together at the fight—though you don't exactly have an alternative; the venue is packed. Now and again, if you get nudged too roughly by someone else, or pushed one way or another, Will cuts a sharp, warning look at them over your head at the perpetrator. The third or so time it happens, you reach out, resting a hand on his arm.

“Don’t worry about them,” You say into his ear, cutting over the noise, “The fight’s in the ring, not with these dickheads.” 

Will’s lips twitch with a smile as he leans in to speak into your ear in turn. He says, “It’ll be here if they’re not careful,” But you almost don’t catch it. You’re too focused on everything else—on the press of his warm and firm body against your side; on the way his hand rests on your lower back; on the whisper of his beard against your cheek; on the brush of his lips and breath against the shell of your ear, and the way his voice seems to drown out the clamor of the spectators around you. It makes your heart tick up in your chest, a shiver tripping down your spine and stopping right where his hand sits. 

When your mind catches up with what he’s said, you laugh, nudging his hip with yours.

“Eyes on the prize, Miller,” You urge.

“They are,” He answers without missing a beat. It makes your stomach flip, and for a moment, you can’t bring yourself to look away. You finally force yourself to, and to clap as the announcer brings in the first contender, looking around to try and catch a glimpse of them—and not to overthink the way that Will’s hand is still resting on your back. 

--  

“Weak spots?” Will asks. You consider for a moment, running your finger along the side of your beer bottle. The buzz from the fight is wearing off, and the bar that you've gone to is far more quiet compared to the venue.

“He doesn’t go in…With a plan,” You say after a moment.

“His coach was calling plays.”

“Yeah, but Klein wasn’t listening. I mean when you tell Ben to back the fuck off or get away from the ropes, he backs the fuck off or gets away from the ropes, because in that moment, you see things in a way that he doesn’t. He trusts you to steer him. Klein’s coach can yell whatever he wants, but it’s not heard. Klein’s in the fight, he’s on the inside, he thinks he knows best, and that…That got him fucked up tonight. Might not always get him fucked up, but today’s outcome, you know. Not so much.” 

“Strong indictment.” 

“You asked me what I thought.”

“And I got it. I appreciate that.” 

You raise your brows at Will’s calm, honest expression.

“What about you?” You ask, nodding to him, “What do you think his weak spots are?” 

“He’s a brawler, not a fighter. He likes to go in for little…squirrely swiping matches. He wants excitement, not wins.” 

You shake your head at the assessment. “That just spells trouble for our boys.” 

“Less trouble if we go in with a plan.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

The two of you lightly clink your beers together, sharing a smile before you take sips.

“I’m surprised you came tonight,” Will admits as he sets his bottle down. 

“Really?"

“Little bit.” 

“Why?” 

“We didn’t exactly have the nicest start.” 

“No, we didn’t, but…I don’t know, I thought we were on a more level field now.”

“I think we are.”

The two of you watch one another for a long moment, considering, and before you can say anything, Will adds: “I’m glad you came with me.” 

“Yeah? Didn’t wanna brave the hillbilly circus alone?” 

“I have before and it’s never fun.” 

“It wasn’t so bad tonight.” 

“I had good company.”

You smile a little bit, eyes sweeping Will’s face as flattery wells in your stomach.

“...You knew Terry had work tonight, didn’t you,” You accuse softly. Will shrugs a shoulder, raising his bottle to his lips again. You can’t help your flattered smile, and you force yourself to keep your eyes on him.

“Ben might’ve mentioned it,” Will finally concedes. 

“Interesting.” 

“Is it?”

“I think so.” 

“Good interesting or bad interesting?”

“I'm still sitting here, aren’t I?” 

Will’s smile widens, and your stomach flutters. “You could’ve just asked me out,” You add in a mutter.

“Well, now I know that for next time.” 

Next time. Your face goes hot; the beer in your stomach feels like it’s bubbling. 

“Yes you do,” You agree, nodding a little.

“When I do,” Will adds, leaning against the table, sending another burst through your chest at his use of ‘when’ where you'd expected 'if', “You alright with it being this sort of thing?”

“What, a fight and a beer? Hell yeah—Long as it’s before 9:30.” 

Will laughs, tugging his sleeve back and glancing at his watch. 

“You have any idea what time it is?” 

“No, and I do not wanna know.” 

-- 

You fold your across your chest, eyeing Terry’s form as he pounds the punching bag in front of himself. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask as he leans away from the bag, swiping at the sweat dripping down his face. 

“‘Bout what?” He asks a little blandly between pants. 

“The fight.” 

“You asking me because I got a fight, or does it have to do with who I’m going up against?” 

You purse your lips, eyes sweeping the gym for any sign of either of the Miller brothers. Finding neither, you answer, “Both?” 

Terry chuckles, turning back to the bag.

“I’m not gonna go easy on Benny just ‘cause he’s a friend, and he ain’t gonna take it easy on me, either—”

“I know—”

“I mean, we always knew this was gonna happen—”

“I know! I know, oh my god, I get it.” 

“I’m just sayin’,” Terry mutters, punching viciously at the bag again.

“I’d be a bad coach not to ask, you know half of the fight’s in your head. And speaking of bad coach,” You add, “You found anyone else yet?” 

Terry casts you an irritated look out of the corner of his eye.

“Are you really talkin’ about this right now?”

“...Okay, letting it go,” You sigh before tacking on, “And you’re holding your breath again.” 

“I was about to say the same thing,” You hear from behind you. You turn to see Will just a few steps away. You smile almost involuntarily. You haven’t seen Will since your not-quite date, but you’ve thought about him and texted with him plenty.

“Shouldn’t you be mindin’ your own fighter, Miller?” Terry asks, straightening up and raising his hands to stop the swinging bag.

“Don’t worry, McLowery. The second he needs minding, I’ll be on it.” Will takes a few steps back from you both, shooting you a wink before he turns away. Your stomach twists, and you carefully smooth your smile away before turning to face Terry again. 

“Alright, c’mon,” You wave him toward the bag again, “Let’s go, we got half an hour and then we gotta get going. I can’t be late for work again.” 

-- 

It’s odd, finding yourself on the opposite side of the ring as Will. As nervous as you are—for the way your body feels like it’s buzzing, a tingle in your fingertips—you know that the boys’ll take this seriously. It was going to happen sooner or later; you just didn’t think it would be so soon. You hope that they come out of the ring with their friendships (and their bones) intact.

You shift from foot to foot, drawing a shaky breath in through your nose as Ben and Terry begin to circle up. Your eye catches on Will’s for just a moment. You trade nods, then turn your eyes back to your respective fighters. It’s a heady moment. The room seems to quiet around you for a moment as Ben and Terry approach one another, each with one fist out and one by their cheeks. You hardly blink as they get closer and closer—

--

“I almost had you.” 

It’s a gravely mutter, the first thing that Terry’s said since leaving the ring. He’s got a fat lip, and his right cheek is going to make it look like he’s part chipmunk in the morning. It’s a moment before Ben offers a grumbled, “...Almost.” Then, “Didn’t, though.” 

Terry takes a swipe at his head. Ben ducks it, raising his arm to push at Terry’s shoulder. You shake your head, leaning against the bar and watching them teasingly grapple. 

“You think they’d be too tired to do that by now,” You comment, shaking your head. 

“Adrenaline’s probably still pushin’ em. They’ll crash later.” 

The both of you are speaking a little more softly than usual; you had yelled your heads off at the match, and you're not sure about Will, but your throat feels so fricking raw. You nod, smile widening as the guys scrap a little more. 

“Hey—Alright, alright,” You finally raise your voice as they knock back into a stool. “If your sorry asses get us thrown out, you're paying.” 

“Drinks are on me, anyway,” Benny turns to give you a grin, teeth bright beneath the shiner developing on his right eye. Still, it’s a relief to see the boys settle. You shift on your stool and lean back against the bar, twisting your seat back and forth. 

“How are you feelin’?” 

You glance over at Will, brow furrowing in confusion at the question. 

“I didn’t just go five rounds with those numbskulls,” You point out, nodding toward them. 

“I know. You seemed…Tense.” 

“I was worried about ‘em.” 

“Terry?” 

“Both of them.” 

Will nods, eyes sweeping across your face before he glances around to the guys. 

“They’re doing alright.” 

“I know. I’m—I’m calming down, I just…” You trail off, shaking your head. “So many of Terry’s other friends in the ring are in different divisions. This is the first friend he’s, like, fought-fought.” 

“He did alright.” 

“No, I know. Nothing too broken. And Ben’s fine, too, so. Like I said,” You raise your hands in a slight pushing motion. “Calming down.” 

Will smiles, taking a step closer and sliding his arm around your middle, bracketing you against the bar. Your stomach flips at the closeness, at the weight and warmth of his arm. 

“Glad to hear it.” 

“You’ve just been completely chill the whole time?” 

Will shrugs. “I trusted the guys to handle it. They handled it.” 

“Alright…Knowitall,” You mutter. You smile as Will takes a step closer. He seems to glance toward the guys again before he lowers his head, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Your stomach bursts with butterflies, and you gently lower your head, resting it against his. You turn your head as you hear the bartender’s, “Here you go,” behind you. The two of you straighten up, turning to the bar fully and reaching for your beers. 

“So,” Will clears his throat, “You busy this Friday?” 

You smile, trailing your finger along the side of your glass. 

“Is there another southpaw you wanna get a look at?” 

“Nope, just dinner. I thought maybe I could cook at your place—that way I won’t interfere with your bedtime.” 

You can’t help your grin, or the slight tip of your head as he crowds close again.

“That is so considerate of you, Miller.” 

“I do what I can.” 

-- 

You try to chip in for the groceries, but Will won’t hear of it. He won’t even tell you what he’s making. 

“You know that I can probably mentally tally up whatever it is you bring and, like, Venmo you that amount, right?” You ask. It’s a little huffed as it leaves you, your gaze and focus on the swinging punching bag in front of you. When Will doesn’t answer, you glance over, and do a double take at the sight of him.

He’s watching you with a warm, sweet look, his hands tucked in his pocket as he slouches against the wall beside you. You raise your hands to steady the bag and keep it from swinging and hitting you in the face, stomach fluttering at the way this man is looking at you—like you’re dolled up and wearing a goddamn ballgown, and not sweating in the middle of a gym. 

“Besides, what if I have an allergy or something?” You add. 

“I’ve already run the ingredients by someone.” 

You frown. “Who?” 

Will doesn’t answer, just shrugs and holds his gaze steadily on yours. You narrow your eyes slightly, turning to look around the gym. Terry’s not too far off—and he’s pointedly keeping his focus on anything but you. 

“...Terrence,” You call out. 

“Busy!” He yells back, plucking his water bottle and phone and hurrying to another machine. You roll your eyes, turning back to Will with a mutter of, “Spy.” 

His smile widens.

“I can be there by six, that alright?” He asks, pushes off of the wall. 

“Uh-huh.” 

“If I see any kind of calculator when I’m cooking…”

“Oh, you won’t. I’m like a phone ninja.” 

Will chuckles, leaning in and murmuring, “See you tonight.” 

The closeness of his murmur and his breath brushing against your sweat-slicked skin sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. 

-- 

Your plan to stealthily tally everything up disappears as Will unpacks the groceries. You blink, stunned, before you pick up a jar of sauce, turning it around in your hands. 

“Are you fricking kidding me?” 

Will doesn’t answer. He just backs off, an amused smile on his lips and his hand on his hip as you reach into the grocery bag and rifle through it before reeling back, screeching, “You took off all of the labels?!” 

“You thought I was just gonna let you look through everything and tally up how much this cost me?” He turns and reaches into the bag again, continuing to unpack. “Amateur hour.” 

You bite your lip, watching in silence for a few moments as you think. What sort of 3-D dating chess is this man playing? 

“You are…Frighteningly tactful, Miller.” 

His smile widens, and he seems to duck his head to unearth something from the bulging grocery bag, but you can see the creeping flush of flattering rising up in his cheeks. 

“I can still guestimate, you know,” You warn. 

He stops then, bracing his hands on the counter.

“Would you just let me do something nice for you?” His brows raise, his lips on the edge of pursing in disappointment. You’re stunned into silence as he adds, “Nothing has to be owed. I just…I just wanna make you dinner.” 

You pause before you nod a little. Will’s brows raise further, and you nod again, watching as he turns back toward the bag. You hesitate before nervously sidling up beside him, pressing yourself against his side and eyeing his steady hands. 

“Can I at least help?” You ask. Glancing at him, you find Will’s annoyance smoothed away, replaced with a somewhat serene consideration. He nods, concedes: “A little.” 

--  

Will designates you two things to chop (red and green peppers), and one thing to stir (vegetable stir fry). He keeps his back to you as he adds seasonings to your chicken (“It’s a secret recipe,” He insists before he shoos you away from the counter. All you get a glimpse of is the garlic salt).

You don’t know exactly what he puts on it, but when you take your first bite, it’s perfectly moist, and damn delicious. You don’t even bother to hide your groan, or the way you close your eyes to just savor—and try to work out one or two of the spices. You get hits of chili. Chili and…Cumin? Little pops of cumin—

“I’m not telling you,” Will’s mirthful warning floats across the table to you. Your smile widens, shaking your head and opening your eyes. 

“No idea what you’re talking about, Miller.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Is this your secret recipe?” 

“My mom’s.” 

“Did she make it a lot growing up?"

“In the summer, mostly, for barbecues and stuff.” 

“Tastes pretty good from the oven.” 

He grunts, nodding. “Better on the grill,” He admits, “With a little char on it.” 

“Mm, noted. Are you and your mom close?” 

Will quirks a brow as he reaches for his drink, and you realize that you’ve been bombarding him with questions. Before you can apologize, he offers: 

“Pretty close. I try to see her at least once a week. It used to be more, but she said I was smothering her.” 

You smile, chuckling. 

“That’s kinda precious.” 

Will shrugs a touch, pushing his veggies around his plate. 

“My dad passed a couple’a years ago and I think coming around as much as I used to might’ve helped, but mom’s got her own life, you know. She’s got a book club…She’s apparently a bingo assassin.” 

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Some people think she’s cheating.” 

“...Is she?” You tease. 

“I wouldn’t put it past her. What  she lacks in subtlety, she makes up for in sneakiness.” 

“Is that where you and Ben get it?” 

He chuckles, ducking his head and poking at the food on his plate. 

“Some of it, maybe.” 

“And the rest?” 

“Training.” 

“Do you think Ben would agree?"

“Do you always ask this many questions?” 

You lean back, poking at your food in turn and fighting the embarrassed churning in your stomach. 

“Not always,” You mumble. You hear Will huff a soft laugh, and smile as he reaches across the table to take hold of your hand.

"I don't mind," He insists, thumb sweeping along the side of your hand. "Long as I get to ask a few, too."

--

"This was nice," You offer, almost woefully trailing Will to the front door. You've wanted to make a move since he put you to work in your kitchen—you've been thinking about it as the two of you were at your sink, doing the dishes; since you were sitting on your couch, talking about work, and the gym, and who Ben and Terry are facing next. You've been so close so consistently—arm to arm, hip to hip, knee to knee. The tiny touches have made you crave more, and Will's sweet smiles have made you do whatever you can think of to seek them out.

When he'd told you that he ought to get going, that he was meeting Ben in the gym at five the next morning, you were pretty sure that he was telling the truth—but you were already mourning the loss of the moment, and his warmth in your apartment.

"It was...Once you stopped pestering me about paying," He teases as he pulled on his jacket. You rolled your eyes.

"Well, how about I bring a bunch of labeless groceries over to your place, make you dinner, and see how you like it."

"I think I'd like it a lot," He insists, straightening his collar. "How's next week?"

And it's so swift and so smooth that you're certain you look more than a little gobsmacked. But you nod.

"Yeah. I can do next week."

"Friday?"

"Sure."

"Okay." He opens your door. "It's a date."

Just like that—so easy and open, and such a far cry to the first time he spoke to you at the gym.

"Good," You agree, leaning against the wall by your front door. "Let me know when you get home."

"I will." He leans in, and your breath catches in your throat as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You bite your lip at the gentle prickle of his beard against your skin, eyelids fluttering as Will stays close. He raises his hand, gently sweeping his thumb against your lower lip and tugging it from your teeth.

"Don't do that," He shakes his head. "Don't bite your lip."

"Why?" You mumble, leaning into the flirty urge that's rising in you. "There someone else that's supposed to do it for me?"

Will breathes out a groan, resting his temple gently against yours.

"I'm trying to be good," He warns. You sweep your tongue across your lower lip, letting the tip graze his thumb, and grinning as he swallows thickly.

"This feels good to me." You reach up, cupping his cheek.

"You realize if we do this, you'll be up past 9:30?"

"I'm willing to risk it."

You think for a moment that he'll draw away, that he'll call it—

Your stomach drops as he pulls away and you hear the door shut, but grin as he crowds up against you, lips pressing warmly to yours. You sigh, looping your arm around your shoulders and keeping you close. His hands slide over your hips, drawing you into his chest. You slide your hand up, gently teasing your nails against the nape of his neck.

"Remind me to apologize to Ben the next time I see him," You mumble.

"Why's that?"

"You're going to be very late tomorrow morning."

tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[besttvshowbracket]

ROUND 1A MATCH 15

Propaganda

DGHDA: really cool fantasy and sci-fi and theres an explicit on-screen gay relationship and disabled rep

Black Sails: Black Sails will alter your brain chemistry. So beautifully incredibly written there are details I can’t even wrap my head around. Instance, heartbreaking monologues. Absurd pirate jokes and horrible awful violence. The most beautiful ship in the world, mad strategy, so much love, so many queer women. Toby Stephens putting absolutely everything into it

[amvpk01]

PATHETIC YANDERE

unwanted obsession

when obsession goes beyond admiration, it turns into repulsion and the search for love becomes a path of rejection.

cw: f!reader, non-con, obsession, rejection, violence, stalking, humiliation, kidnapping, manipulation, murder

masterlist || next

Can you imagine someone who is completely useless at everything they do? There's no such thing as good grades, good looks, popularity, or even a good personality. He was a complete shit and he knew it.

It was just another day of him going to school, doing assignments that most of the time the teacher would point out were wrong just to embarrass him in front of the class or that the handwriting was illegible, talking to his pathetic friends just like him, buying something in the canteen and sitting on the benches to eat and look around judging the people.

It was Thursday so it was more crowded than the other days, some familiar faces and others not so much, but someone on the other side of the courtyard surprised him.

A girl with h/c hair and e/c eyes, a pretty face, and a sexy body.

He wondered how someone as beautiful and charming as that could exist. Were you new to the school or did he just not notice you before?

"-Are you there? Dude?? Hello?! Are you listening to me you piece-"

"Calm down bro-"

"Her name?" He interrupted his friends.

"Uh- Who?"

"Pink shirt." The friends looked at the aforementioned girl.

"Don't know, but Giovanna's talking to her, maybe you can ask?"

"...I thought I'd die before I saw you like a girl!"

"Quiet! So fucking noisy. What if she heard you?!"

"Don't worry. It's just that it always crossed my mind that you would be... you know, gay?"

He didn't mind the homophobic comments or the pats on the back along with the laughter of his friends. All that went through his mind was how he was going to get close to you.

You couldn't help but admire your purple nails that matched your fit. It was already a habit of yours to match clothes along with accessories and painted nails. No matter the occasion, you'll ALWAYS be pretty and stylish.

"[Name]?" You looked in the direction of the voice.

"Hi, Gigi! You good?" Noticing her face made you worried. "What's wrong?"

"Well, do you know about some guy who texted you yesterday?"

"Huh, no? All my notifications are off."

"Looks like some guy from my class keeps saying you're ghosting him on DM."

"Oh. My bad, it was not my intention. I think I'll see about that later." You wondered what that guy wanted to talk about. Maybe was someone you already know?

He couldn't believe it that you didn't block him. He thought you had ghosted him but it was just a misunderstanding?!?

'Thanks God... Now I need to talk with her.'

It's been a few weeks since he had the courage and ask you to talk. Every day you exchanged greetings and had long talks that were mostly started by him. You tried to find him attractive or like his personality but nothing worked. Maybe because you already knew his intentions?

But there's something that has been bothering you. Maybe it's just your mind trying to delude you but you swear that someone's stalking you.

And your instinct is telling you that's him even though you don't have proof. You did see a lot of pictures of you on his phone but didn't think he would start to follow you on your way home.

So today you're gonna find out if it's him or not!

You made your usual way home, but you diverted your path to another street that had more shops. Your stalker follows behind you, his face all covered by a stupid black mask and sunglasses.

Maybe you should enter the first shop that you see to know if he would enter too?

Without wasting time, you run into a lingerie store and try to hide further into the store. The stranger only realized the type of store when he put one foot inside, his covered face flushed with embarrassment, and then decided to wait for you outside.

'Damnit! He didn't enter?!' Your thoughts were pure anger and disappointment but vanished when some lady came asking for what type of lingerie you were searching for. Then you got why he didn't.

'NO. NO. NO. NO. JUST NO. DON'T TELL ME SHE'S BUYING LINGERIE TO USE WITH SOMEONE ELSE! SHE SAID SHE HAD NO BOYFRIEND. BUT WHAT IF SHE'S SEEING SOMEONE?!?' He started hyperventilating and his disguise was only making his breathing worse.

After waiting 5 minutes, you come out with a bag in your hands and then speed up your walk. He couldn't lose you from his sight. In his point of view, he was protecting you.

You surely have been running fast, are you embarrassed by someone seeing you in this type of store?

FUCK, DID HE JUST LOST YOU?!??

Surely he saw you walking around that corner-

Oh no...

It feels like you're leaning against the wall just waiting for him. In a fast move, you pulled away his mask. Not being able to hide your disgusted face.

"...What the fuck?"

"Wait- I-I can explain!! It's j-just a misunderstanding! I s-swear! Please, let me-"

"...That's so fucking creepy dude...

If I knew you were like this, I would just ignore you from the start...

Maybe I shouldn't listen to my friends."

He was disturbed that he didn't mind you running away from that place. How could he be so dumb to fall for such a trick? Now, you won't ever talk to him again. Just the fact that he scared you hurt him so much.

You were so kind and pure to him like an angel, and he felt like a demon knowing that you would never want to see him again.

A week has passed since the incident, and he hasn't gone to school, much less left the house. He didn't dare to even see you. Your disgusted face was already haunting him but there's something that he didn't notice before.

'Maybe I shouldn't listen to my friends.'

What did you mean by that? Did your friends tell you about him or something? His phone was getting many notifications, then he decided to pick it up.

A party? Seriously? He wasn't in the mood for this, but locking himself in his home isn't going to make anything better.

He hopes that you go too so he can apologize for his past behavior.

In his own way.

You were relieved, there was no sight of him in school. Mostly like he was who was hiding and not you. You didn't know if he ever felt sorry, after all, you blocked him from everything leaving him with no opportunity to speak and you didn't see him everywhere. Thanks God.

But nothing more than a wonderful party to raise your mood.

If you only know what would happen after this.

part 2 (in progress)

[somekindofpoet]

Master List

I write gay stuff.

Many of my works are 18+ for sexual themes/violence/drugs. Please consume at your own risk, with this in mind!

Like A Movie - Reader is a struggling screenwriter but things start looking up when they get a surprise visitor who wants to buy their movie.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

Tara

Spin Me Round -NSFW! R plays spin the bottle with the Scream gang

Skin Deep - NSFW!

Ghostface reader meets her match in Tara Carpenter

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Drabble 1-Strap Party!

Drabble - Sweater Weather

Drabble - Fighting Words

Drabble- Nudes

Jenna

Nevermore Grounds - Reader owns Nevermore Grounds, a Brooklyn coffee shop that Jenna stumbles upon.

Part I

Part II

Futbol or Football - Jenna is preoccupied with a soccer game on tv, reader interrupts

Missed Connection - A flight delay causes a chance meeting between R and Jenna Ortega

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 - NSFW! Part 7 - NSFW!

PR Agent Drabble

Playlist

Vada

Terminal - Reader deals with her parent having a terminal illness, and Vada struggles to cope with the aftermath of the shooting

Kissing Lessons -NSFW! Reader teaches Vada how to do the do

Oh! Dealer - NSFW! - Vada calls Reader for a ride after she does E, they get high together and experience some new highs

Oh!Dealer Pt II - NSFW! - Drug Dealer! R and Vada try to figure out how this is all going to work.

Oh!Dealer Pt III

Low Budget Spider-Man - NSFW! - R gets dragged unwillingly into a friendship with Vada, and then the crush begins

Lightning Drabble

Cranberry Juice Drabble

Lorraine

La Petite Mort NSFW!- Reader finds out Lorraine has just been bearing through intimacy with RJ, and takes it upon herself to educate her on how it should be one

LPM - La Drague NSFW! - Reader and Lorraine take a ride into the woods for a picnic...and other things.

LPM - C'est Comme Ça - The repercussions of RJ's return hit hard

LPM - T'en Va Pas NSFW! - Reader works until she's numb enough to clock out, Lorraine brings her back around

LPM - Vouloir, C'est Pouvoir NSFW! - R deals with RJ, Lorraine gets jealous

LPM - La Fin NSFW! - We get closure

LPM - Bonus Content 1 NSFW! - A new girl at the ice cream shop makes Lorraine jealous

Drabble-Fight.

Drabble-Jacket

FilthX - NSFW! - X AU where Pearl isn't a homicidal maniac and R is the star everyone wants, including Lorraine

X Drabble

LPM - Lorraine NSFW Alphabet

Phoebe

How To: Be The Perfect Partner - A Lecture - NSFW! - Phoebe has prepared a lecture for Reader: how to be a perfect partner

Wednesday

God Complex

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen PT I & PT II. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Epilogue. Soundtrack.

********

TWO: G & G.

You know that there are those in the world who strike fear into people’s hearts and souls.

But you’ve never seen anyone react to a single human being the way they do the duo that struts into the bar in their leather cowboy boots. 

You’ve never seen the saloon so quiet and still before then when the duo steps into the scene. A tumbleweed could blow by with how silent it is.

Everyone’s eyes stay planted on the tall, handsome men oozing with confidence and intimidation standing among the swinging doors, appearing like sexy phantoms in the night.

There stands Geto Suguru, the 6’4 long-haired gunslinger with the perfect, black locks that cascade down his broad shoulders and back, seductive eyes, and skillful hands that he hides behind two riding gloves.

He usually is seen riding a black Bronco that is just as big as him and sporting a black cape with black riding pants, boots, and a low-brim cowboy hat. Black fits him so damn well. The only thing that isn’t black on him is the red vest that is so low-cut that you can see the outline of his pecs. 

Beside him is his partner (and lover as it’s rumored) Gojo Satoru, the lean, confident, cocky, blindfolded bandit standing at 6’3 with snow-white hair, a sly smile, leather gloves that hide some skillful and deadly hands, and a blindfold covering his eyes that have never been seen but are said to make a man go cold with fear where he stands.

In contrast to Geto, the white-haired cowboy is doused in colors: a denim jacket that matches his slacks where a star-shaped belt buckle hangs from his crotch; brown boots with spurs; a red bandana wrapped around his neck; and a white cowboy hat sits low on his head. He, too, has his own horse: a brown Bronco that is recognizable from its hooves clicking across the ground.  

They are a match made in heaven and hell. Handsome, skillful, and deadly. They are known for their impressive yet terrifying speed when it comes to cocking and shooting their pistols. You’ve heard of them killing all kinds of wanted criminals and even other gunslingers in other counties.

Everyone knows them and so do you. 

If a record was playing, the damn thing would be scratching by now with the way the saloon reacts to seeing the gunslingers in the flesh. Whispers begin to rise from the silence, including from Yuki, Mai, and Maki who have wandered over. “Oh, my God,” Mai gasps. “It’s the Gunslingers!” 

“What the hell are they doin’ here?” Maki wonders aloud, peering at them from behind her spectacles. “Are they lookin’ for someone? I thought they had been arrested!” 

And they did, last year. At some point, the articles of gunslingers, corporation owners, and high rollers found dead with bullets in them and a note from “G & G” left at the scene stopped when they were arrested after that train heist. And you know it has everything to do with their connection to your boss. 

“Who cares?” Yuki dreamily sighs as she stares at the gunslingers with heart eyes. “I get to admire them in person now! Aren’t they delicious?” 

“Keep it in your pants, Yuki,” Choso grumbles, tugging on a lock of the blonde’s hair as she giggles. “They ain’t even all that.” 

“Of course not,” Yuki purrs, making Choso blush. “Not above you, Chosi, but a cowboy hat would do you so well!”

Even you will admit that the “wanted dead or alive” posters don’t do them justice: they are fine as all hell, straight out of a woman’s wet dreams. But they are also outlaws. And you despise outlaws…for personal reasons. 

The duo begins to look around the silent saloon, Gojo’s head slowly turning despite his blindfold. When his head turns toward you, you feel as if the air has been stolen from your very lungs. Despite the fabric covering his eyes, you feel as if he sees you. All of you. 

Gojo nudges Geto with his elbow before waltzing over to the bar, his boots thudding across the hardwood floor. Geto follows, ignoring the whispers and stares in their wake. The piano has begun to pick up again, but it does nothing to ease the tension swimming in the air. Quickly, you turn to face your drink while the girls scatter to work, leaving you to fend for yourself. 

Geto sits on the stool beside you while Gojo takes the one beside him. You feel the air around you become stiff and tense as the cowboys settle into their seats. “So what’s a cowboy gotta do to get a drink round here?” Gojo asks with a smirk. “Can ya help a guy out, miss?”

He gives Shoko a flirty look, not knowing that this girl is gay as hell. “I could damn sure try,” she replies, barely giving him a smile. “What will you fellas have?” 

“I’ll take a Long Island iced tea,” Gojo says then laughs. “Just kiddin’! A beer, please.”

Geto takes a moment to examine the shelves of alcohol behind Shoko. He then looks at your pretty drink. “I’ll take what the lady is havin’,” he answers. “Actually, what is that you got there, miss?” 

His dark, enchanting eyes meet yours and you ignore the butterflies they invoke inside of you. “Whiskey smash,” you blandly reply.

He hums thoughtfully at the name. “Hm…is it good?” You tick your eyes at him briefly, secretly admiring his features. “If you like your whiskey with some sweetness to it, sure.”

A slow smirk appears on his face. “Oh, I definitely do,” he drawls. “I like sweetness with my everything.” 

You swallow hard, so sure you have a cherry pit in your throat. Gojo chuckles from beside his partner, flashing you a white-toothed smile. “Oooh, me too. I’ll third that order, ma’am!” Shoko nods and shoots you a look before wandering off to fix the drinks. 

You do your best to keep calm and act normal, sipping your drink and trying to relax. At some point, the silence becomes thicker, prompting one of the gunslingers to speak on it. “Welcomin’ place,” Gojo sniggers. “I feel so at home.”

Geto quietly chuckles from between you and Gojo. “Let’s just settle, Satoru. We won’t be here long.” 

‘Settle what?’ you wonder, but you know that they are here for Kento. Shoko comes back with the frothy, red drinks, lowering them in front of the gunslingers. 

“Thank you kindly,” Gojo chirps before taking a sip. Geto nods his thanks but doesn’t drink his right away. Instead, he goes into his pocket and retrieves a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it and slides it across the bar to Shoko. “I don’t suppose you know who this guy is,” he says. 

You peek down at the paper, finding it to be a “Wanted” poster with your BF and boss looking back at you. Kenzo aka “Valentine” looks much different than when you met him. On the poster, he is clean and shaven, has longer, shaggier hair, and has a distinguished scar on his left eye.

But of course, this is the gunslinger who robbed people blind and just pulled a train heist and massacre in the town of Cherrywood a year before with his crew, Geto, and Gojo. The man who takes his place now is Kenzo, a humble saloon owner who sometimes dabbles in illegal activity to fund his saloon.  

Valentine, a criminal on the lamb and your outlaw boyfriend, is known for using his looks, charm, and violence to get what he wants. He is a man who loves money, women, and jewels. As a notorious criminal and outlaw, he has bounced from place to place, county to county, robbing folks and then laying low before starting again. 

He was arrested for robbing the Cherrywood regional train and having his crew massacre all of its employees and riders before you met him. Originally, he was given a fifty-year sentence but escaped after serving five weeks just by seducing a male prison guard and then knocking him out to steal the cell keys. 

You were hot on his trails when he showed up Blackwater a year later and met you in a whorehouse that you purposely took a job in since he frequented those. He took one look at you and immediately fell in love with you (and your body), proposing you a job at his saloon. “You could be mine,” he told you. “My girl.” You agreed and the rest is history. 

“I’ve heard of him, yes,” Shoko replies as she cleans a glass. 

“Is it possible you’ve seen him around?” Geto ponders aloud. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but he escaped Cherrywood a year ago after robbin’ a train and massacrin’ everyone in it. He’s wanted in about nine different counties.”

Shoko takes another brief look at the poster before someone flags her down from down at the bar. Saved by the bell. “I can’t say I have seen him, fellas,” she apologetically says. “‘Scuse me.” 

She hurries off, leaving you with the two cowboys. “How about you, ma’am?” Geto asks, passing the poster to you. “You recognize this face by any chance?” You look down, studying Valentine’s face.

You have, but first, you need to read these guys. “I’ve seen him in the posters, but not in person. May I ask why you two are here?” 

You keep it casual and curious, making sure you don’t sound too suspicious. “We were paid by a private source to track down Valentine for his crimes,” Geto vaguely explains. 

“And for personal business,” Gojo adds with a smirk. “You see, we were in, uh…business with Valentine some time ago and never got our cut.”

He doesn’t need to go any more into detail than that. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “We don’t like bein’ played with,” he says, his voice dipping an octave, sending a chill down your spine. “Or when someone’s money is funny, so we came here to exchange words with him.” 

‘Words or bullet?’ you want to ask, but you instead bite your tongue and sip your drink. 

“We’ve been told he was last seen in this town,” Geto explains. “We figured everyone comes to saloons so why not check here?” He slides the poster away from you, a kind yet flirty smile crossing his beautiful face. “But even if he isn’t, we can still enjoy a drink with a pretty lady.” 

You roll your eyes, having heard that line before. “Does that line work with all the girls?” you scoff. Gojo coughs up his whiskey as he laughs, but Geto doesn’t take it to heart. In fact, he chuckles.  “I see not with you,” he replies. 

“I like that,” Gojo states once he’s recovered, his blindfolded eyes set dead on you. “You’ve gotta be the first person who isn’t scared of us or tryin’ to jump in bed with us.”

You passively shrug, twirling your tongue around the rim of the glass. “I’ve been around gunslingers in my time.” 

At this, the duo share a look unbeknownst to you, quite interested in the pretty thing sitting with them at the bar. “Oh, really?” Gojo drawls and you realize your mistake. “Any of these encounters you’d care to share, little lady? I’m quite interested.”

Geto nods, his gaze like molten fire. “I am too.” 

You suddenly feel your mouth grow dry and your cheeks become hot. Your body reacts in a way it never has with any man you’ve been with, not even your first love! The way they continue to stare at you, giving you their undivided and unwanted attention, is even worse.

What is wrong with you?

Luckily, your boss comes to the rescue, barreling up to the bar like he wasn’t watching the duo from afar and shaking in his boots. 

“Oh, gentlemen!” he shouts, giving them both a hard, eager handshake. “Welcome, welcome! Can I offer you two another drink or a dance free of charge?”

Gojo ignores him like he isn’t even talking, leaving Geto to handle this. “Thanks, but no thanks,” he says, plastering on a kind smile. “We’re here for some information about him.” 

He passes Kenzo the poster and you watch in real time as the color in your boyfriend’s face drains. “Have you seen this guy anywhere?” Geto asks, squinting at him.

Gojo peers at him from under his hat, his stare intense even with the blindfold covering his eyes. Kenzo clears his throat and leans in to whisper to Geto. You pretend to ignore them though you secretly strain to hear. “Let’s talk in private,” he whispers. “Even the walls have ears, I’m afraid.” 

Geto nods and nudges to Gojo who sighs and downs the rest of his drink. To your shock, Geto puts a hand out to you for a shake. Though hesitantly, you take his hand and feel the room grow hotter than a sauna when he places a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “It was a pleasure meetin’ you, ma’am,” he softly says. “Hopefully, we’ll cross paths again.” 

His eyes gleam as he tips his hat at you, leaving Gojo to follow Kenzo upstairs. Gojo doesn’t follow right away, instead digging into his pocket for some coins and placing them on the bar in front of you. “For your drinks and yours,” he says with a crooked smile. “Have a good night, little miss.” 

Then, just like Geto, he leaves as if he didn’t just steal the air you breathe with it. It takes a moment to get your head back, but once you do, you down the rest of your drink and get up from your seat. Shoko catches your eye and gives you a look, her eyes telling you a message: 

“Don’t get caught,” she warns you. “And don’t get killed.” 

You nod, blowing her a kiss, before following your boss and the duo upstairs.

[callmelola111]

K.O. ♡ e.w. oneshot

 ✄ - - - -   inspo track   - - - -   bull believer- wednesday

synopsis: as hours, minutes, and seconds count down till the new year, secrets are revealed and trust is broken. who knew the downfall of your life could be so freeing—and that a total stranger would be the one to catch you.

      | 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 4.8k

      | ❀ | cw: 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, reader is in a toxic relationship with a man (sexuality isn’t mentioned in huge detail so feel free to hc however you like—they could be bi, pan or just a lesbian with very real comp het), coming out scene (refers to self as “gay”), heavy swearing, descriptions of intense violence + gore, cheating (bf on reader), underage drinking + use of marjuana (18), reader is called a slur (dyke)

a/n: hi hellooo, long time no see! **first, a quick disclaimer: this isn't realistic, there is a complete lack of morals and an unethical/dangerous amount of violence that i wouldn't condone irl. but alas this is fan fiction based off a M rated game whose whole basis is violence, sooo plz keep that in mind when reading.** anywaysss... i’ve been obsessed with this song for months now and it sparked a little oneshot idea so here it is. not exactly my usual stuff, more of a passion project as i process my hatred for men as a lesbian who used to date them. soooo i guess this one goes out to my small town comp het girlies who love ellie williams. thanks for all the support!! ♡~ lola

In the south it never really felt like a true winter. All the holidays that came along with it never felt real either. Christmas was dull and New Years was even worse. After spending the last 18 years of your life in a small hick town, it felt like no use to wish for some “better future”. You were damned from the start. Sure it was a new year, but it was the same old shit and you knew nothing was gonna change until you got out of this hell hole.

Just 6 more months of pretending, you’d tell yourself. 6 more months of bending over backwards to please your overbearing parents. 6 more months of mediocre sex with your shitty boyfriend that you weren’t even sure you liked. 6 more months of artificial conversations with your estranged friend group from middle school who claim to “not get you” anymore. But at this point, as every little thing ate away at you, you weren’t sure if you could keep up your act for much longer. Especially tonight, where you’d be faced with the challenge of appeasing all 3. 

December 31st, 9:00pm:

Adorned in a matching set of mint green pjs you sat patiently on your bed waiting for the go-ahead. Like clockwork, your parents gave a small knock and pushed open your door from its cracked position. It always annoyed you how they knocked, pretending to respect your privacy while simultaneously enforcing a “no closed doors” rule. You thought at 18 they would’ve let it go, but no. 

“Well hun, me and your mother are heading out now. We don’t expect to be back till the morning… Ya know, just to be safe while taking part in all the ‘festivities’.” Your dad chuckled, throwing up some air quotes. Your mom stood deadpan waiting for him to wrap up his little bit before butting in.

“No plans for the evening, right?” She phrased her words like a question but you knew this was just her way of subtleing enforcing the stupid rules you’ve followed your whole life.

“Of course not momma. Probably just gonna watch Gilmore Girls reruns and then go to sleep before any fireworks start up.” You gestured to your pjs but your perfectly made bed said otherwise. See, you knew this little routine like the back of your hand. You knew just what to do and just what to say in order to lure your parents into a false sense of security. While they stood in the frame of your door wishing you a goodnight, your party clothes hung on the other side of it, just out of their view.

December 31st, 9:30pm:

A loud honking blared from just outside your bedroom window. You ushered the sheer curtains open and glared out at the little sedan sputtering in your driveway. Your hands ran down your face followed by a big sigh. It’s not like you didn’t know your boyfriend Jax was coming to pick you up for the new years party that night, you had planned it just days before. But unbeknownst to him, the only reason you reached out was because you didn’t have a ride and tonight was one of the few times your parents wouldn’t be around to police curfew. 

You climbed into the passenger seat already cringing at the unidentifiable smell and litters of trash covering the floor. Forcing a smile to your face you greet the grimey boy sitting at the wheel with a wave.

“Come onnnn, not even a kiss? You must be real happy to see me, huh?” You grit your teeth, squeeze both eye’s shut, and lean in for a peck to appease his complaints. 

“Of course I’m happy to see you babe.” This was a lie. Something you had become quite good at these past few years, even lying to yourself at times. The rest of the car ride was silent, leaving you to ponder this drudgery of a relationship. You weren’t quite sure when things shifted or if there was ever an attraction at all, but after a year together and college approaching you just decided to ride it out until the inevitable. And part of you recognized the same in him, so there was never any guilt about it. 

December 31st, 9:45pm:

Alcohol was the first thing on your mind as soon as the car went into park. The door to the house was propped wide open, inviting in teens of the small town. Some top 10 hit boomed from a speaker nested in the main living area, not really your style—at least not sober. You scavenged the kitchen for a clean solo cup to designate as your own and began the journey to drunkenness. Jax followed in suit with a couple bottles of beer. The harsh burn in your throat lingered but the alcohol's effect was already beginning to take off the edge that was your life.

You attempted to initiate some conversation with the man who had brought you here but he was too busy texting to listen. So consumed with the glow of his screen, you couldn’t help but peek to see what was so interesting. As soon as you got a glimpse you wished you had been less nosey. His attention was not being stolen by a dumb Instagram reels, but actually, a long string of texts with a girl whose name you didn’t recognize. Your stomach pinged at his possible infidelity. Partly because he was your boyfriend but mostly because you’d spent months convincing yourself to like him, to stay with him, to be a good girlfriend—and he could care less. All this work and effort on your part was simply discarded with his unloyal behavior. It was all for nothing. But hey, maybe you were just drawing conclusions. It could just be a friend. Right?

December 31st, 10:15pm:

Jax had finally shifted his attention back to you before his screen lit up again causing you to retaliate in irritation. You swiped up the cracked device before he had the chance and began to scroll.

“Can’t you just silence it? What is soooo fucking importan-.” Your voice caught at the sight of flirty messages littering the screen.

“Are-are you fucking cheating on me?” You instantly questioned.

“Bro no! Give me my fucking phone back!”

“Who the fuck are you texting then? ‘Mary Jane’,” you spouted in a mocking tone, “no way is that someone's real name. You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“It’s a joke between me and my cousin. Now would you chill?”

“Your cousin?? You call your cousin baby?? I mean, I knew this town was full of hicks but I didn’t know y’all were those kinds of hicks.” The alcohol was giving you a little too much courage as your taunting waded into dangerous territory.

“The fuck did you just say? Don’t fucking test me! Can’t even handle a couple shots without getting all crazy on me!!”

“Crazy?? I’m being fucking reasonable. Literally any other person would be bothered by this just as much as me.”

“You know what, just fuck off. We can talk when you stop being such a delusional bitch.” He then disappeared into the living room, landing onto the couch, leaving you alone with your anger. 

December 31st, 10:30pm:

You stood idle, bubbling over with emotion, eye’s filling with tears when a wet sensation hit your upper lip. Its flow grew stronger and began to trickle onto your hands where your gaze was locked. Deep red stained your palms- a random nosebleed. It was like a sign from the universe. A sign that you weren’t crazy. In fact, you might be one of the only sane people in this whole damn town. Stuck in your reverie, blood continued to drip on your hands, your shirt, your lips- everywhere. That is until a kind eyed girl slipped you a dish towel to stop the flow. 

“Uh hey, your nose is bleeding.” You snapped your head up finally acknowledging the moment in full.

“Shit thanks, sorry…” Your face went hot realizing how long you had been just standing still, letting the blood fall where it may. The heat doubled, spreading to your ears when you finally acknowledged the person who had witnessed the whole thing. Ellie Williams. You had never formally met but knew of her existence, as she had kind of a reputation around school. There wasn’t anything inherently bad about her (at least in your opinion), she just didn’t fit the mold of most residents in your town. Therefore, she was a target for people's prejudices, especially being the only out lesbian in your senior class. Despite everyone else’s thoughts, you really admired her. You wished you had that type of courage.

“It’s no problem…” the auburn haired girl glanced down deciding what to say next before lifting her gaze back up to you. “Not to be nosey, I know you don’t really know me, but like… are you okay?”

Head tilted back, you gave a nasally reply, “Oh me? Yeah, yeah uh- I’m okay” 

“No offense but uh, you don’t look that okay.” she gestured to your bloody everything.

“Alright so I’m not okay, you got me.” You looked down to your now crimson stained blouse and scrubbed frantically at the chiffon material trying to reprimand the damage.

“Here, here– You can just take my flannel to cover it up, I promise I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Before you could say anything else, Ellie was sliding the warm garment over your shoulders and guiding you into the arm holes. It was dark blue, in a faded plaid pattern, and smelled of pine and incense. The girl was now left barren in just her white tank– and all for you.

“Yeah of course.” She then took it a step further, buttoning you up. You watched as her dexterous fingers worked up from the bottom of the shirt to the top, brushing you at each maneuver. A little jab into the plush right under your naval, a swipe past your ribs, and a tap at your collarbones. The quick, unexpected interaction left you completely flustered and you weren’t quite sure why.

“Thank you.” was all you could say. 

“Sooo… do you wanna talk about it?” At this point, Ellie was completely enamored with you from the way you handled yourself with Jax. She had this unusual feeling, a feeling like she needed to protect you. A feeling that you were different from most. Maybe you were even a little like her?

“Honestly, yeah. My friend Samara was supposed to be here tonight but I guess she decided not to show, and I’m starting to wish I didn’t either.”

“Well, if it’s worth anything, I’m glad you’re here. Come on now, follow me.” Ellie led the way to a set of stairs at the edge of the living room. You snaked right past the couch where Jax was drunkenly passed out, mumbling obscenities at his phone. Of course, he paid no mind to you. The idiot was too consumed with himself to even wonder if you were okay.

December 31st, 11:00pm:

You and the sweet girl sat on the rough carpeted step talking about everything under the sun. Ellie was the first person in a really long time who you felt you could be honest with.

“So you think he’s cheating on you?” she questions trying to clarify the few bits of dialogue she heard while watching from afar.

“I know he is. I’m not stupid.”

“I’m sure you’re not.” Ellie put her head down staring at the laces of her dirty converse. You felt so unreadable, making her unsure of how to proceed in the conversation. “So00, how do you feel about it all then?”

“I don’t know, I guess angry.” you answered with a remarkably solemn tone. 

“What about… sad?”

Like second nature, you instantly thought of a less than honest answer until Ellie’s attentive green eyes brought you back to Earth. 

“It feels like… I’m supposed to be sad, but I can’t. In a twisted, confusing way, I’m honestly kinda relieved. So fucking pissed, but relieved.” Ellie’s lids widened, this was an answer she wasn’t expecting at all–but one she was glad to hear.  

“I can’t blame you, he does kinda seem like a piece of shit.”

“And his dick is small too.” you quipped, making Ellie chuckle under her breath.

“Maybe I’m reading into things, but… it seems like you never really liked this guy in the first place.” 

You took a guilty pause before confirming, “Maybe…”

“So why haven’t you broken up with him?” Ellie was genuinely curious. She thought if it was her in the situation she definitely would’ve gotten rid of that Jax guy long, long ago. Who would wanna keep around a douche bag like that?

“Being with Jax felt convenient. He felt like my ticket to ‘normalcy’.” You put your head down in slight shame but continued the explanation. “I got so caught up in my image that I neglected how I actually felt. I was doing everything to please everyone but me.”  Ellie scooted in one inch to the left, now connecting your thighs and bringing in a sense of comfort.

“Trust me, I understand. This town is fucking ruthless.”

“God yeah, the things I’ve heard people say about you are seriously fucked up. I don’t know how you do it.” A beat of silence lingered as Ellie articulated her thoughts.

“I think… community. I mean, obviously most of the people at our school look down on me, but all it takes is one singular person to be right there with you and then things don’t feel so bad. I guess for me, I can’t imagine being anything but myself. Like completely myself.” The girl looked up from the hangnail she was picking at as she spoke and was met with your tear filled eyes. “Fuck, did I say something?”

Your hand shot up to quickly wipe away the floodgates threatening to fall, “No, no. It’s just that you’re right,” you stuttered, choking down another cry, “an-and, I wish I would've realized it sooner because these past 4 years have been like hell. I don’t wanna be the cookie cutter straight girl anymore. I just wanna be me.”

Ellie then placed a gentle hand to your knee and brought her eyes to meet your own, “And what might that be?”

“Gay. Like really fucking gay.” you said through teary-eyed laughs as Ellie joined in with her own hearty chuckle.

“Welcome to the club.” she said, sticking out a strong hand for you to shake. You grasped it tightly as her warm palm guided you up and down, her touch lingering just a little longer than the gesture itself. As you collected yourself you whipped out a small pocket mirror to touch up the smudged mascara littering your undereyes. Ellie admired in silence. She was in pure awe of your resilience, and when you were finished with your clean up, you turned back to realize what had just gone down.

“Fuck, I’m sorry for dumping all that on you considering we just met. It’s weird how things I’ve never even said out loud before can come out so easily around a stranger.”

Ellie nudges you with her shoulder, “I guess I just have that effect, huh?”

“I guess you do.” you sighed, nudging her back.

December 31st, 11:15pm:

The two of you continued your banter until a cold breeze from the back door gave Ellie a brilliant idea.

“Dare I say… you look like you need a blunt?” she said with a mischievous smirk.

“No, please. It's exactly what I need.”

Ellie then reached into the pocket of her baggy jeans, “I guess it’s your lucky day then.” she said, revealing the most perfectly wrapped blunt you’d ever seen.

“You’re actually god sent Ellie. How are we just now meeting?” The auburn-haired girl gave a small laugh before grabbing your hand and leading you to the backyard. As she pushed the white panel door open, every single ounce of weight that had been lifted off from that one singular conversation, all came crashing back down. Ellie and you weren’t the only ones who adventured outside into the brisk night air. Right on the porch stood Jax, accompanied by your “friend” Samara, who up until this point you didn’t even think was coming. The piece of shit was practically sucking her face off before the creaking sound of the back door sent them 5 feet apart.

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” you yelled, eyes growing dark with rage. Ellie just stood and watched from the corner.

“Babe, please! I swear it’s not what you think!” Jax stumbled forward, attempting to grasp at your figure.

“Don’t you dare try and touch me! You don’t even deserve to look at me. It’s over Jax. I’m done being suffocated by your never ending bullshit!” Knuckles clenched, you continued your lashings, this time at Samara. “I-I thought we were friends. What happened to that?”

“You don’t even like him. You should be thanking me.” she spat. 

“You really don’t get it, huh? This has nothing to do with me liking Jax or not, you completely betrayed our friendship the second you started fucking him behind my back. Friends don’t fuck each other boyfriends Samara!” Before she could even respond Jax was dragging her away, flipping you off on the way inside.

“Ellie-” you squeaked, trembling in shock. 

“Come here, it’s okay love.” she whispered, parting her arms to make a safe space just for you. You collapsed into the warm cavity and relinquished the buckets of tears you had been saving for the moment someone actually gave a fuck. And Ellie did. She never let go of you even for a second as you crumbled under her.

“Jeez I’m sorry.” you said after minutes of pure silence, lifting your head to meet Ellie’s green eyes. 

“For what?”

“For being a drunk mess, crying to you about a man, and also, I think I got a little snot on your shirt.” you tried to laugh it off but you really just wanted to disappear.

Taking your face in her palms Ellie reassured you, “hey, hey no need to be sorry pretty girl. You’ve been through a lot tonight. Besides, I think I look kinda good with this huge ass wet spot in the middle of my tank top. What do you think?” You stepped back and took a look at the damage, and honestly, she was kinda right. With the white cotton material you could see right through to her toned stomach, barely missing the bottom of her breasts. 

“Fine, yes. I’m sure there’s plenty of girls who’d kill to see you in a wet shirt Ellie.”

“Lucky you then.” she said, playfully nudging your shoulder.

You couldn’t help it as the corners of your mouth turned upwards, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“There’s that smile. Soooo… blunt now?”

“Yes. Blunt.”

December 31st, 11:30pm:

And just like that, you were halfway through the chestnut wand of herbs and deep in conversation.  

“So you really haven't seen But I’m a Cheerleader?” Ellie asked, blowing out a puff of smoke with the question and passing it on.

You took the blunt from between her fingers and let it rest between your own, “No. Should I have?” 

“Definitely dude, it’s like queer classic.”

“Oh yeah?” You cocked your head at the freckled faced girl. 

“Yeah. And now that I’m thinking about it, you’re honestly just like the main character.”

“How so?” you asked, taking another long draw. 

“She’s in denial about being gay for like the first 30 minutes of the movie.”

A string of coughs unleashed from your chest as you let out a hefty laugh mid-inhale, “Bitch-”

“What? I’m being so deadass!”

“Fine, what character are you then?” you pry, passing the lit blunt back over to Ellie.

Taking a hit she replies, “I guess I’d be graham.”

“And what does she do?”

“I’m kinda like your awakening in a sense. Graham is all gay and cool, and of course Megan—that's you—totally falls for her.” 

You retrieve the lit cannabis and roll your eyes, “I haven’t fallen for you yet Williams.”

“Yet.” she emphasizes, placing a soft finger to the tip of your nose tauntingly.

“Ha. Ha.” you monotonously mock, “Now here, I think it’s done.” You hand Ellie the roach and she promptly stubs it out into the concrete slab deck.

“Come on, let’s go inside. I’m fucking cold.” she pleas.

“Dude I’m scared. Like I am way too fucked up for this.”

“No, no– I promise you’re fine. I’ll protect you.” 

“Fineee.” you drag out.

December 31st, 11:50pm:

Things were seemingly fine as you and Ellie entered the muggy living area of the packed house once more. Your hesitancy was quite clear though and Ellie could sense you needed just a little reassurance. Your right hand, currently picking away at the hangnail on the thumb of your left, was quickly captured by Ellies own rough hand which led you back to your comfortable spot on the ascending stair set.

As you both took a seat your grip remained tight on the girl, afraid that if you let go you might jump up from your spot right then and there just to give Jax one more lesson. Just the sight of him through the slats of the stairs’ wooden railing—legs casually spread wide and eyes focused in on a casual game of Mortal Kombat—drove you fucking crazy. 

“Dude if you keep staring like that you might actually burn a hole through his dumb ass T-shirt.” Ellie said, nudging your tensed shoulder.

“Good it’s ugly anyways.”

“Fair point.”

“I just have this burning need to get back at him. I wanna beat his ass just like in that game he can’t take his eyes off.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “Very funny, but you wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Oh yeah?” you questioned before laying a soft punch to the girl's forearm. A string of dramatic “Ows” reverberated from her lips. “See, I’m a badass right?”

“Fine you’re a total badass” she agreed begrudgingly, rubbing the soft tissue of her arm where you had left your mark. 

“What? It hurt that bad? You need me to kiss it better?” you taunted. 

“Maybe I do.” she said, longing eyes staring into your own. 

You gulped down any hesitation and felt it drop straight to your nervous stomach, “Where does it hurt?”

Ellie pointed to her arm slowly, “here.”

You placed a soft peck.

Hot breath raising goosebumps to the surface of her skin, “and here”, she gestured to her outstretched neck

Another supple kiss.

“And um-” she continued, but was quickly cut off and brought back to reality with the bellowing sound of a countdown. Too caught up in the moment, you both had almost forgotten about the holiday currently taking place.

FIVE… FOUR… THREE… TWO…

“Can I kiss you?” she blurted frantically, and with no words you dove into her plump, chapped lips. Just like a puzzle piece your bottom lip slotted perfectly between her own. It was a gentle and delicate kiss at first, drinking in the euphoric moment. Quickly though, soft maneuvers of the mouth got quicker and harder. Spit was exchanged with passion and need, as your hands were becoming grabby at the girl's toned figure. The heat growing between your legs was an easy distraction from the fact that you were at a large party, in a hick town, with your ex-boyfriend now hovering over your more than friendly exchange.

January 1st, 12:01am:

“The fuck? You’re a dyke now?” he yells, practically loud enough for the whole party to hear. You and Ellie frantically pull apart, bumping heads in the process.

The calloused hands that were once caressing the small of your back are now balled into tight fists as Ellie rises from her seated position.

“The fuck did you just say?” she questions, tilting her head to the right.

You now stand up with her, worried where this might go, “Jax you need to walk away.”

“Oh shut up slut. You’re so fucking desperate you’d do it with anyone!” 

That one hurt. That was the tipping point. Tears welled in your eyes. 

“I’M NOT A FUCKING SLUT! I’M GAY AND NEVER LIKED YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE!”

“You need to leave now before I do something I’ll regret, you dirty bitch.” he threatens. And that's it, Ellie takes a swing aiming straight for his nose. Her fist retracts and reveals his bloody and now crooked cartilage. Through clenched teeth Jax grips onto Ellies white tank, throwing her into the open space of the living room. Just like a car crash, it’s one of those things where a scene can be so disturbing but you just can’t look away. And everyone else in the room was feeling it too—backed into corners, hands over mouths, some men even obnoxiously chanting “fight, fight.” But this isn’t what you wanted. Not at all.

“STOP! YOU NEED TO FUCKING STOP IT!” you screamed desperately. You didn’t even want to imagine what Jax would do to the freckled girl who changed your life in mere hours. But you didn’t have to, because here they were, brawling it out for the whole school. Jax swung at Ellie’s head to which she ducked before jabbing him in the stomach, stealing whatever air was swimming in his lungs. He stumbled backwards 3 steps, coughing through the hit, but this just made him angrier.

He charged back at the flustered girl with more force and gained a grip on a wad of choppy auburn hair. With a forceful yank she came tumbling to the ground with him on top. Ellie wriggled, pushed, and kicked but the sheer weight of the furious man was enough to keep her pinned. Jax began punching left and right, capturing her face with each blow. Thick crimson decorated his knuckles and the entirety of the girl's face. You could barely make out her litter of freckles and the half-lidded slits of emerald green—it was blood, all blood.

But as Jax kept on going, and the room grew quieter, this fight turned into something much more serious. It was inching on life or death and you had to do something. You surveyed the room, eyes dancing from counter to counter until a large glass beer bottle nagged at the tips of your fingers. Grabbing it tightly in your fist, you did what you had to to end this. Glass and gasps scattered through the room. The sharp brown shards littered the floor and evoked a gushing red stream from the back of Jax’s head. He instantly rolled to the side leaving Ellie an opening to escape. You weren’t done yet though, he hadn’t gotten what he deserved yet. Falling to the floor right at his body, hot tears streamed down your face.

Through curses and screams you thrashed at the man's barely conscious frame, “FUCK YOU JAX! FUCK YOU!” This was for every time he made you feel stupid, for making you feel like the ugliest girl in the room, for all the times he kissed you while you just prayed for it to be over, for making your life a living hell. With each scratch, punch, and kick all the pent up anger and resentment drained from your soul. Ellie let you have at him for a bit but as the crowd started to thin she knew the cops would be here any second now.

“Come on! We gotta go hun!” she nagged. 

“NO I CAN’T! NOT YET” you yelled, collapsing down into tears. Ellie promptly scooped you up by your armpits and dragged you from Jax’s limp body.

“I know baby, you're angry, it’s hard. But the cops are coming and we need to leave now.” she said, picking you up completely and carrying you through the frame of the propped open front door. You nestled your head into her bloody top as your chest still rapidly rose up and down, choking on the last few streams of tears and snot. “I’m gonna get you home love, don’t you worry.”

January 1st, 12:15am:

Finally through the small window of Ellie’s red truck you spot your familiar 2 story home. She grips the steering wheel, whipping to the right into the empty driveway. Of course she helps you inside and up to your quaint little bedroom. It felt weird almost—so quiet and still after such a chaotic night—and void of any life but you and the freckled faced girl. It was a cold feeling knowing you’d be all alone in just a few minutes, and tonight, you weren’t sure if that was a feeling you wanted to know.

“Els?”

“Yeah?” she answered softly. 

“Can you stay?”

With a kiss to the head she agreed, “Of course I’ll stay.” The rest of the night was spent cuddled up under your warm comforter, and despite all the events from just hours before, you felt safe. And for once, in fucking years, you were content.

✄ - - - -   masterlist   - - - -   ♡

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[gatheringbones]

[“Coming out was very lonely. I had very few friends. Most of the adult lesbians I knew were alcoholics, chronically unemployed, prone to violence, self-hating, apolitical, closeted, cliquish. Lesbians hated each other. If you found a lover you stopped going to the bar because you could not trust other lesbians; they would try to break up your relationship. My first woman lover went into the military, where she turned in other lesbians so she would not be exposed. One of my dyke friends got a job as a supervisor in a cabinet-making company and refused to hire lesbians because, she said, they were unreliable employees who were disliked by the other workers. The only thing that seemed worse to me than the apolitical lesbian community I came out in was the strangulation of pretending to be straight. I came out only because I could not go back; there was no place for me to stand in the het world. I was driven out.

Moving to San Francisco improved things somewhat. There was more public lesbian space there—six bars instead of one. But it did not alleviate the loathing with which my family viewed me. Nor was San Francisco in the early seventies any sort of gay utopia. We had no gay-rights law, queer bashing was a frequent event, and everyone had lost at least one job or been denied a place to live. It was a relief to be surrounded by other lesbian feminists, but only to a point. Bar dykes and feminists still had contempt for one another. Feminism rapidly became a way to reconstitute sexual prudery, to the point that it seemed to me that bar dykes were actually more accepting of and knowledgeable about the range of behavior that constituted lesbianism. In the bars or in the women’s movement, separatism was pretty much mandatory, if you didn’t want to get your ass kicked or be shunned. Separatism deteriorated into a rationalization for witch hunts in the lesbian community rather than a way for women to bond with one another and become more powerful activists. The lesbian community of that decade did terrible things to bi women, transgender people, butch/femme lesbians, bar dykes, dykes who were not antiporn, bisexual and lesbian sex workers, fag hags, and dykes who were perceived as being perverts rather than über-feminists. We were so guilty about being queer that only a rigid adherence to a puritanical party line could redeem us from the hateful stereotypes of mental illness and sexual debauchery.

What did I gain? I came a little closer to making my insides match my outsides, and that was no small blessing. The first time I met other dykes I recognized a part of myself in them, and knew I would have to let it out so I could see who I was. For a time, being a lesbian quieted my gender dysphoria because it made it possible for me to be a different kind of woman. That was an enormous relief.

For a long time, I hoped that by being strong, sexually adventurous, and sharpening my feminist consciousness, I could achieve a better fit between my body and the rest of me. Lesbianism was a platform from which I could develop a different sort of feminism, one that included a demand for sexual freedom and had room for women of all different erotic proclivities. I had a little good sex and discovered that I was not a cold person, I could love other people. It was as a lesbian that I began to find my voice as a writer, because in the early days of the women’s movement, we valued every woman’s experience. There was a powerful ethic around making it possible for every woman to speak out, to testify, to have her say. But there were always these other big pieces of my internal reality that lesbianism left no room for.

The first big piece of cognitive dissonance I had to deal with, in my second coming out, was S/M. I date my coming out as a leather dyke from two different decisions. One was a decision to write down one of my sexual fantasies, the short story that eventually became “Jessie.” At the time I wrote the rough draft of that story, I had never tied anybody up or done anything else kinky. I was terribly blocked as a writer. I kept beginning stories and poems that I would destroy. I have no idea if they were any good or not. My self-loathing was so intense, my inner critic so strong, that I could not evaluate my own work.

So I decided to write this one piece, under the condition that I never had to publish it or show it to another person. I just wanted to tell the truth about one thing. And I was badly in need of connecting with my own sexuality since I was in the middle of what would be a five-year relationship with a woman who insisted we be monogamous, but refused to have sex with me. So I wrote about dominance and submission, the things I fantasized about when I masturbated that upset me so much I became nauseated. Lightning did not strike. As I read and reread my own words, I thought some of them were beautiful. I dared show this story to a few other people. Some of them hated it. Some of them were titillated. Nobody had ever seen anything like it before. The story began to circulate in Xerox form, lesbian samizdat. I found the strength to defend my story when I was told it was unspeakable or wildly improbable.

In October of 1976, I attended a lesbian health conference in Los Angeles and went to a workshop there about S/M. In order to go to a workshop, you had to sign a registration sheet. I was harassed by dykes who were monitoring this space to see who dared sign up for that filthy workshop. On my way, I had to walk through a gauntlet of women who were booing and hissing, calling names, demanding that the workshop be canceled, threatening to storm the room and kick us all out of the conference. The body language and self-calming techniques I had learned when I had to deal with antigay harassment on the street came in very handy, but how odd it was to be using those defenses against the antagonism of other dykes. Their hatred felt like my mother’s hatred. I am so glad I did not let it stop me.

When I got home from that workshop, I knew that I was not the only one. Not only were there other lesbians who fantasized about sadomasochism, there were women who had done these things with each other. I decided to come out again. If there were other leather dykes in San Francisco, they had to be able to find me, so I had to make myself visible. This meant that I often did not get service at lesbian bars, or I was asked to leave women-only clubs and restaurants. I was called names, threatened, spit at. I got hate mail and crank calls. But I also found my tribe. And because I had already experienced my first coming out, I knew we were not going to be an ideal, happy family. I could be more patient with our dysfunctions, and see them as the result of being scared, marginalized, kicked around. Being a leather dyke took me another step closer to dealing with my gender issues. I could experiment with extreme femme and extreme butch drag; take on a male persona during sex play. I gave up separatism because I needed to take support from any place where it was available. Gay men already had a thriving leather culture, and I wanted to learn from them. I also wanted to have sex with them. It still wasn’t okay as far as lesbian feminism was concerned to be bisexual, to be transgendered, but I could bring those folks into my life and make alliances with them. I could defend them in print. There was even more good sex, and people who loved me and received my love despite the fact that it was dangerous for us to show ourselves to one another. I faced my sexual shadow, and she bowed to me and then danced beautifully in profile against the white walls of my consciousness. My writer’s voice was unlocked.”]

pat califa, from layers of the onion, spokes of the wheel, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: language, alcohol use, sexual tension, tiny bit of smut, angst, pretty long chapter lol

Chapter Five

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

September 2003

Work had been so busy you barely realized the summer was coming to an end. You haven’t seen a whole lot of Joel lately, save for your monthly accounting meetings with him. He would still cast glances in your direction, with a discreet smile if you caught his eye, but your one-on-one interactions have been minimal. It didn’t bother you. Actually, you were relieved because Colleen had stopped bringing up her suspicions about your relationship with him.

On this particular day, Colleen was more fixated on the other Miller brother. She was posted up in your cubical, quietly recounting for you her latest interactions with Tommy. She was frustrated because he seemed to be giving her the cold shoulder. When she caught him in the breakroom early one morning alone, she confronted him about it, and he explained that he needed to stop socializing with the women in the office.

“I knew what I was getting into when we started hooking up, but it still took me by surprise, you know?” Colleen whispered, looking distraught. She sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t know, maybe I was starting to get feelings for him, and I thought he might be, too. I'm such an idiot."

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked. You felt bad for your friend.

Her gaze shot up to meet yours, suddenly excited. She clasped her hands together with a huge grin.

"Yes! Let’s go out to a bar tonight! Pretty please! You never go with us, and I swear it would make me feel so much better.” Colleen had you right where she wanted you, and you fell for it. You rolled your eyes.

"Okay," you agreed.

“Yay! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ll see if Debbie and Kyle can come, too! We can make it a fun night out.” Kyle was the newest hire in your department, who also happened to be gay. You had grown to really like him the past several weeks. He clicked with the three of you instantly. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea.

You let yourself get a little excited at the prospect of a night out. It was a Thursday, so you told yourself as you headed to the bar to meet your friends that you had to limit yourself to two drinks. The department had a meeting with Joel the next morning and you knew it would be obvious if you were all hungover.

You walked up to the front of the bar, waving to your friends huddled in a circle waiting for you. The days were still warm, but the nights were beginning to get cooler. You wished you had thought to grab a jacket to throw over your dress for the journey home, but the alcohol would have to warm you up instead. You were relieved to find that you dressed appropriately for the night out: you had on a sleeveless black dress that hugged your hips and showed just the right amount of cleavage. You paired it with a pair of red pumps you hardly wore that gave you just a few extra inches of height. Colleen wore a similarly flirty bright pink dress with matching heels. Even Debbie, who typically wore dress pants to the office, was dressed up in a modest skirt. Kyle clued in on you first, giving you a low wolf whistle when he saw your outfit. Men had it so much easier: he simply wore a white button-down shirt with the first two buttons opened, revealing a smooth chest underneath, and a pair of black jeans.

“You look amazing, girl!” Kyle pulled you into a hug and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. The four of you headed towards the bouncer leaning up against the door.

Colleen hurried over to him and planted a kiss on his cheek, which he returned. She spoke to him for a few seconds while glancing back at the three of you, just out of earshot. Then he beckoned you all over and moved out of the way so you could squeeze inside. Colleen stood on her tiptoes to give him another kiss on the cheek, and followed you in, much to the annoyance of the people patiently waiting in line.

“Is this an exclusive spot or something?” you asked Kyle, who had removed his arm from your shoulders to grab the wallet from his back pocket.

“Kind of!” he shouted over the music. “It’s not super exclusive, but it's a little swanky.” He approached the bar to get the bartender’s attention, and then turned back to the three of you, asking what you wanted to drink.

Once you had drinks in hand, the group of you weaved around the clusters of people drinking and chatting until you found a small table to sit down.

The group of you talked loudly over the music, mostly about work, and the crowdedness of the bar. You casually glanced around, sipping on your glass of wine and taking in the beautiful chandeliers above you. The bar itself was long and made from a very dark wood, with leather covered stools pushed up against it, all of them filled with people. There was a big screen tv behind the bartenders that currently was playing some sultry music video you didn't recognize.

You noticed there were staircases on either side of the room that led to another floor, which appeared to be divided up into smaller, partially enclosed rooms. You assumed people much richer than you occupied those rooms with their friends, relying on bottle service rather than waiting at the bar for drinks.

The laughter coming from your friends drew your attention back, your vision getting a little unsteady from the wine. Your cheeks were starting to feel warm as you laughed along with them, watching as Kyle and Colleen stand up to dance to a song that just started.

You were happy Colleen seemed to be in a good mood tonight, watching as Kyle swung her around on the dance floor. Debbie stood up to get herself another drink, but you put your hand out to stop her.

"It's my turn to buy, I'll get it!" You yelled to her. She smiled and relented, reminding you of her drink order as you got up to head to the bar.

You pushed your way through the throngs of people, the place looking even more packed than before. Your head was swimming just slightly, a nice buzz settling in from the two glasses of wine you had. You reminded yourself you should probably stop drinking; it was almost midnight and you had promised yourself your max was two drinks.

You leaned against the bar, waiting to get the attention of one of the bartenders. You found it to be difficult, occasionally reaching a hand out but failing to catch their eye.

Finally, the bartender turned and looked right at you, or you thought he was looking at you, but he was actually looking right over your shoulder. You twisted around and found Joel standing directly behind you, his eyes still on the bartender, and was pointing down, flagging him down for you.

You gazed up at him, admiring up close his strong jaw and his deep brown eyes. Suddenly, you realized you really missed seeing him outside of those meetings. You missed his familiar scent of leather and citrus invading your senses, the electricity you felt when you sat across from him in his office, and... oh shit, you were too tipsy to interact with him right now.

He looked back down at you and smiled, then his gaze dipped down to take in the dress you were wearing, and his smile faltered a bit. He cleared his throat and pointed towards the bartender, who was waiting for your order. You leaned forward on the bar again and yelled your drink order to him, deciding against your better judgement to get another glass of wine.

The bartender disappeared to get your drinks, and you turned your attention back to Joel. He was wearing a dark pair of jeans with a black button-down, which was opened, revealing a plain white t-shirt underneath and clutching a leather jacket in his hand. He looked really good.

"Thank you," you said, trying to collect yourself.

Joel frowned and cupped his hand behind his ear. You stretched on your tiptoes and leaned up towards his him. You left one of your hands on the bar, and the other gently rested on his shoulder so you wouldn't fall.

"Thank you," you repeated so he could hear.

You had never been this close to him before. You absorbed the residual smell of shampoo from his hair, and the whiskey on his breath. You felt him exhale gently on the side of your neck, giving you goosebumps, and you had to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from saying something stupid.

You lowered yourself back down, forgetting you were wearing heels taller than you were used to. You stumbled a bit, but regained your balance quickly since your hand was still planted on the bar. Nonetheless, Joel shot his arm out around your waist and pulled you close, in an effort to keep you from falling, which he realized too late was unnecessary.

Your eyes trailed up his chest to meet his gaze, your lips parting slightly. Joel tensed at the feeling of your body pressed against his. You looked so fucking beautiful in that dress, it was driving him crazy. He had noticed you from his private table on the upper floor. He tried to focus on the people he was with, but he couldn't get his mind off you. When he saw you walking to the bar alone, he found an excuse to leave the table and follow you.

Joel's gaze kept flicking back and forth between your lips and your eyes. You were frozen to the ground, neither of you wanting the embrace to end. An "excuse me!" over the music dragged your attention away from Joel to the other side of the bar. The bartender told you the total as he pushed the two drinks towards you.

Begrudgingly, you untangled yourself from Joel's hold to grab your purse. Joel put his hand over yours to stop you from opening your wallet.

"Put it on my tab!" He shouted at the bartender, who nodded and gave a thumbs up. You looked back up at him with a smile.

"You didn't have to do that!"

He shrugged it off and looked down at what you had ordered. Your wine and Debbie's mixed drink. He cocked his eyebrow at you.

"Two?" he teasingly asked.

You giggled, the alcohol was going straight to your head. You jerked your head back towards your table and explained "Debbie!"

Joel looked in the direction of your table and saw Colleen, a man he barely recognized, and he now remembered Debbie from that night in the conference room.

You scooped up the two drinks from the bar and turned to thank him again, but he stopped you.

"Why don't you give Debbie her drink and we can go someplace quieter?" he said in your ear, making your breath catch in your throat.

If you had been more sober, you would have made an excuse about needing to stay with your friends. You took a sip from your glass, examining Joel's face. You wondered if he had too much to drink. Worried if he had, he would regret spending time alone with you in this type of setting. But he didn't look like he was that drunk, so you gave him a sharp nod and quickly made your way back to your friends.

You handed Debbie her drink and shouted, "I'll be right back, I'm going to get some fresh air!"

"Hold on, I'll come with you, I just have to pee!" Debbie yelled, but you shook your head. "It's alright! You stay here, I won't be long!"

"Are you sure?!"

You nodded firmly and gave a thumbs up, turning around before she could change her mind.

"Be safe!" she shouted as you disappeared into the crowd.

Joel watched you talking to your friends, hidden from them in the thicket of bodies. He wasn't sure what his plan was, he just couldn't let you go yet. He had been waiting for the right time to be honest with you. Maybe tonight, with some liquid courage, was that time.

He eyed your approaching form up and down appreciatively, his gaze lingering on your red heels. He imagined those heels on his shoulders as he thrusted into you, spread out on his bed and moaning his name. He tried to blink the fantasy away as you stopped before him, looking up at him expectantly. One step at a time.

He placed his arm around your shoulders and turned you towards the door. The air was much brisker than when you had arrived a couple hours ago, but you didn't mind. The mixture of alcohol and Joel's body heat was enough.

The two of you walked away from the line of people still waiting to get in. You slowed your pace and leaned back against the bar's cool brick wall, looking up at Joel hazily.

He took a deep breath and rested his arm on the wall above your head, giving you your space but remaining close.

You took another sip from your glass before asking "What're you doing here?"

Realizing it didn't come out how you intended, you added "this bar, I mean. D'you come here a lot?" Your words were beginning to slur.

He shifted his weight and fixed his gaze on something down the street. "It's my birthday tomorrow."

Your jaw dropped and you playfully shoved his shoulder. "I didn't know that! Happy Birthday! I should've been the one to buy you a drink!"

He smirked and brought his gaze down towards you once again.

"Nah, no need, sweetheart. It's not a big deal. Some of the guys at work insisted on bringin' me out tonight. Couldn't do it tomorrow, got plans with Tommy." You gasped at Tommy's name.

"Oh, no, is Tommy here? 'Cause Colleen was really upset earlier-" but Joel cut you off.

"No, he's on a business trip out west. We are lookin' to acquire a company out there, expand our footprint. He's comin' back tomorrow," he assured you.

"Oh, good." You relaxed, still gazing up at Joel. Your eyes trailed along his broad shoulders and chest, which were still partially caging you in. You thought about how it might feel to have his arms wrapped around you, what it would feel like to have his weight pressing against your body. A shiver went down your spine.

Joel noticed. He gently took the glass from your hand and placed it on a ledge nearby. He opened up the leather jacket he had in his other hand, motioning for you to turn around so he could put it on your shoulders. You pushed off against the wall and slowly turned, making sure you didn't stumble. He placed the cool, smooth leather carefully over your bare arms.

"Thank you," you whispered as you turned back to face him. He was looking down at you, desperately searching your eyes for something.

Feeling emboldened by the alcohol, you ran your hand up his stomach and grabbed his collar, pulling him toward you and pressing your mouth firmly on his.

He was stunned for a moment, but responded quickly. The hand that once held his jacket now cupped the side of your face, while his other arm returned to the wall above your head. You had lightly fallen back against the brick and brought both your hands to gently rest on his strong chest.

Strangely, the first thought in your head was of Justin. You were right for breaking up with him. You didn't feel a spark, but with Joel, your whole body felt on fire.

You moaned quietly, and he took that opportunity to deepen your kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips and massaging your own. You could taste a heady combination of whiskey and a hint of spearmint. It was heavenly. He pushed his mouth onto yours with more pressure, as his tongue hungrily increased its pace. You felt dizzy. So many months of buildup finally erupted in this moment. Your hands inched up to grasp his strong shoulders as he lowered himself down a fraction and pushed his upper body against yours. He moaned against your mouth and tightened his hold on your jaw. You felt your lower abdomen flutter and your panties soak with arousal.

A group of girls walked by the pair of you, giggling loudly, bringing you both back to reality. You pulled away gently, keeping your forehead pressed against his as you fought to catch your breath.

You both kept your eyes closed, panting and savoring the moment. Joel was the first to pull away. He looked down at you with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Come home with me," he whispered huskily.

You felt yourself clench at his words, so desperate to say yes. But you didn't want to be drunk your first time with him. You closed your eyes again and tipped your head back against the brick wall.

"I don't think it's a good idea," you whispered back. "I've had too much to drink, and I want to remember."

His breath hitched and his eyes squeezed shut. Fuck, he wanted you so badly. But he knew you were right. He reopened his eyes and looked back down at you, your head resting against the wall, eyelids still shut. He leaned forward, eager to kiss you again, but stopped himself: he knew if he did, he would never stop. So instead, he pushed off the wall and took your hand.

"Lemme get you back to your friends, they gotta be worried 'bout you by now."

You chewed your bottom lip as you reentered the bar, slipping his jacket off and handing it back before your friends could see. Behind you, he whispered in your ear, "You better get home, you got a big meeting with your boss tomorrow."

You turned to react, but he was already rushing back up the stairs towards his private room.

You woke up at 6am to your alarm clock blaring the voices of the local morning radio show. Your head pounded and your mouth was dry. You groaned as you rolled out of bed, quickly sitting back down when you got the spins. You chided yourself for not eating more before going out last night.

You headed to your bathroom, partially listening to the radio show as you peed. You had started to hear something about some infection overrunning hospitals in the area, but you had to turn the noise off before your head exploded.

Thankfully, a shower made you feel so much better. You only had the pounding headache to contend with now. As you applied your makeup, you took note of your swollen lips. Then the night before came rushing back to you. It hadn't been a dream, you really kissed Joel. And he invited you back to his place. Shit.

The hand holding your lipstick hovered above your mouth as you replayed the scene against the brick wall: his hand on your jaw, his tongue in your mouth, the way he tasted, the way he smelled...

You looked at the time. You couldn't dwell on it right now or you were going to miss your train. You snatched your purse from the table by the door, tripping over the hiking backpack you had forgotten to give back to Justin, and you locked your apartment door behind you.

When you walked into the accounting department, you saw Colleen slouched over her desk. She was wearing black pants with a sleeveless white blouse, a noticeable change from her usual pink dresses and skirts. You greeted her and she turned around to give you a weak smile.

"You're super hungover, too, huh?" you joked, setting your things down.

"Ugh, yes. I've never felt this shitty in my life, and I don't think I even had much to drink!"

You examined her face; she looked a lot worse than you felt. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she looked a little sweaty.

"Where did you run off to? When I got back inside, you had already left," you asked.

She perked up a little bit and said, "Oh, I went home with a really cute guy! He was super nice, but something kind of weird happened..."

You gave Colleen your full attention now, concerned. "What was it? Are you ok?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. But he... bit me. On the leg," she whispered. "Kind of hard. He even drew a little blood."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Are you sure you're ok? That sounds strange."

Colleen brushed you off and assured you she was fine, she said she just wasn't expecting it. You shrugged and turned back to your desk. You had more important matters to attend to anyway.

You rummaged around in the supply closet to find a loose piece of blue tissue paper. On your way into work you passed by a newspaper stand. You hardly ever stopped there before, but today you did, remembering it was Joel’s birthday. You looked around on the shelves that were next to the postcards, and you found a little something for him. You quickly wrapped it up in the used tissue paper and set it aside for later. The meeting was at 10am, you had two hours to get your game face on and shake the rest of your hangover.

Your team was already seated in the conference room for at least ten minutes before Joel stormed into the room, a stack of papers in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He didn't look like he was hungover, unlike Colleen who was getting worse by the minute. She was trying to nonchalantly hold her head up with her fist tucked under her chin, staring down at the table.

You chanced a look in Joel's direction once the meeting was underway, but he wouldn't look at you. In fact, he didn't look your way once the entire time. You were beginning to wonder if you had dreamed up what happened last night. Then the paranoia began to set in: what if he was mad at you because you refused to go home with him? He didn't seem that upset when you turned him down, but maybe you didn't notice in your drunken stupor.

The meeting was wrapping up, and he still didn’t cast one glance in your direction. Before he dismissed everyone, he asked Heather if you could bring the quarterly reports up to his office later. He still wouldn’t look at you, just directly at Heather, even when openly talking about you. You furrowed your brow, confused. Heather seemed a bit confused as well, but she assured him you would, looking over at you and nodding.

You got back to your desk, still perplexed about the cold shoulder from Joel. You sifted through the mail that was left for you while everyone was upstairs, and about 20 minutes later, Heather came into the room to give you the reports Joel requested. She reminded you to make copies and bring the originals back to her.

You stood up, shoving the small gift you got for Joel in your pants pocket, when your eyes fell on Colleen again, chugging water and sweating so much her hair was growing damp.

“Colleen! What is going on with you?” you exclaimed, shocked at how much she had deteriorated since that morning.

“Girl, I don’t know, but I need to go home. I think I have a fever, and” she dropped her voice lower, “that bite on my leg looks kind of nasty.”

"Oh my god," you gasped. "I heard on the radio today about some weird infection going around, you might have it! You should go to the ER!”

Colleen nodded but it looked like she was hardly listening to you.

"I just gotta go to the bathroom real quick and then I’m gonna leave. I’ll stop by Heather’s office before I go.”

“Do you need me to bring you anything? I can stop by later with some soup," you offered, but Colleen shook her head.

"I just need to sleep, but thanks," she said.

You parted ways with Colleen, only after promising to stop by this weekend to check on her, and made your way to the copy room before heading up to Joel’s office. Kyle was the only other person in the room when you got there.

“Hey!” you said, excited to see him. "Last night was so much fun!”   

Kyle laughed and agreed.

"I just wish we got to dance together!" he said. "You disappeared outside for so long!”

You giggled, pushing the thoughts of your rendezvous with Joel from your mind, and stretched your arm out to him.

“Better late than never!” you said with a giggle.

Even though there was no music, you both swung each other around the copy room, laughing while Kyle tried, badly, to sing Beyoncé.

You felt like you finally belonged somewhere. So happy you had found some friends, and maybe even something more with Joel. You were actually making it work in New York City, like you always wanted. You giggled as Kyle wrapped his arms around your waist and continued to sing off key.

Joel was heading back from Heather’s office towards the elevator after she assured him that you were already on your way up to his office with the reports he requested. He had tossed and turned all night, replaying your kiss over and over. How soft your lips felt, the taste of the pinot grigio on your tongue, the feel of your fingertips digging into his shoulders… he was glad you had the presence of mind to not come home with him. He didn’t want to rush things with you, he wanted to do things right.

It was hard, but he had to force himself not to look at you during that meeting. If he did, he couldn't be sure if he would be able to hide his feelings for you in front of the whole accounting department. It's been so long since he felt this way about somebody, it was awakening something in him he thought was long gone.

He needed to get you alone. He had decided on a plan to ask you to dinner tomorrow night, and he wasn’t going to try to fuck you on the first date, either. He didn’t know what he was thinking last night – why would he push you like that? He wanted more, and he knew that took time.

He rounded the corner when he heard your beautiful laugh reach his ears. A smile stretched across his face before he could stop it: you just had that effect on him. He peered around the corner and froze at the scene before him.

There you were, with another man, in that fucking copy room, dancing and laughing with his arms around your waist. Joel’s smile quickly faded, and he saw red. His fists clenched at his sides, his anger boiling over.

Before he did something stupid, he marched to the elevator and got into the empty car, punching the number ‘10’ repeatedly, willing the doors to close faster.

Once he was in the safety of his own office with the door shut, he paced around the room replaying the events he had just witnessed. How could he read the situation so wrong? Of course you wouldn’t be interested in him, how could he be so stupid? And in that goddamn copy room, the same place he caught Amy with the CFO of his own fucking company. He was glad he at least refrained from pummeling the guy you were dancing with, unlike that time with Amy when he had nearly put that bastard into the hospital.

He had been so wrapped up in his anger that he didn’t hear his door open and you walk in.

“Joel?” you called out to him sweetly, which just pissed him off even more. How could you jump from one guy to the next without missing a beat?

He whipped around and saw you standing there, reports in one hand and something else clenched in the other one.

He stretched out his hand aggressively, scowl etched on his face.

“Give ‘em to me," he said gruffly.

You faltered for a moment, surprised at the hostility, but stepped forward and handed him the papers, which he all but ripped from your hand. Your smile quickly faded from your lips, the uncertainty settling in.

Shit, he IS pissed you didn’t sleep with him last night.

He sat down at his desk. Without any direction, you sat down nervously in the chair across from him, waiting patiently with his gift hidden in your lap. Maybe he is one of those people who hates their birthday and that's why he was moody. You looked down at your gift and decided if you gave it to him, maybe it would lift his spirits.

You raised your head, opening your mouth about to wish him a happy birthday, but clamped it shut when he suddenly cut you off.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” he asked darkly, still not looking up from the reports.

You stiffened, not sure what he was referring to. The anger in his tone made you anxious.

"W-what do you mean?”

His eyes shot up to meet yours, icy and hardened.

"You know exactly what I mean, prancin’ around this office every day, screwin’ anything that moves,” he snarled at you. “You think you can add me to your list? Use me, for what? A raise or somethin’? What’s your angle?”

You stared at him, jaw dropped, trying to process what he just said. This can’t be happening. What was going on? Was this about Justin? That was so long ago.

“Close your mouth, sweetheart,” he spat, the term of endearment he so charmingly used to use on you, now filled with hate. "You go use it on someone else, I got no use for a whore.”

You swore in that moment, time stood still. Anything else he said after that, you didn’t hear. Your vision narrowed and your ears were ringing. A whore?

His mouth kept moving, and you kept staring, but you couldn’t hear any of it. You felt your lips and fingers go numb first. Then a buzzing invaded your head and your whole body tensed. Joel continued to growl things in your direction, but none of it got through to you. This was the man that everyone warned you about. This was who he really was. You were foolish to think something else was there. He just wanted to fuck you, just like his brother fucked half the staff, and when you refused, you saw the man for who he really was. A whore?!

“Stop.” You said calmly. Too calmly. And Joel obeyed, taken aback at your response.

“Nobody,” you said, standing up and glaring at him now, “nobody speaks to me that way. Do you understand me?” Joel just stared at you, his eyes still flashing with anger, unsure how to respond.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” you continued, pointing a finger at him, “and personally, I don’t give a shit. I will not sit here and listen to you berate me for absolutely no reason, for a job I could do anywhere else!” Your voice was rising now as you cast your arm out to gesture towards the city behind him.

Joel sat motionless in his chair, listening to your outburst. He was used to people crying, or even yelling obscenities back, but not this.

Your adrenaline was kicking in now, and you began to feel shaky and weak. You needed to leave.

Chest heaving, unblinkingly staring him right in the eye, you quietly said, “Fuck you, Joel. I quit.”

You turned on your heel and headed towards the door, your hands shaking so badly you dropped his birthday gift, but you had to keep walking. You couldn't risk letting him see you cry.

Your instinct was to wait for the elevator, but you were worried he might emerge from his office and see you, so you walked past Ruby's desk to the stairwell. She definitely had overheard some of your argument with Joel. She gawked at you as you walked by her desk briskly, but your eyes were focused straight ahead.

You pushed the door open and nearly ran down to the 6th floor, back to the sanctity of your cubical. You snatched your purse onto your shoulder and hastily grabbed a box from under your desk. Tipping it over to empty it, you threw a few personal effects into the box.

You didn't bother to say anything to Debbie or Kyle, vaguely noting Colleen was already gone, or even Heather. You figured Joel could fill her in himself. What an asshole.

This time you felt safe to wait for the elevator, tears stinging the back of your eyes. Grateful the car opened empty, you lept inside and jabbed the lobby button repeatedly.

You could taste your freedom. You saw the exit, not even registering the security guards rushing past you, weapons drawn. You were focused on leaving this place behind you and thanking the stars above you didn't fall for Joel's seductive trap. At least you still had your dignity.

It must have been lunchtime by now, the streets looked more packed than usual as you marched down the sidewalk. It wasn't until later you realized people were running and screaming. You were so wrapped up in your own drama, you didn't even notice.

That was, until you heard Joel's voice yelling your name.

You thought you hallucinated it, your foolish imagination running away with you again, but you kept hearing it, at least three times now. Your place slowed, and your focus began to come back to the world around you. Why were all these people running?

Suddenly, you felt a strong hand on your shoulder. You turned around, looking up to see Joel's softened expression, gasping from trying to catch up with you.

You frowned, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. Before you could lash out at him, he spoke.

"Please, just stop and listen to me."

Before he could continue, six trucks filled with FEDRA soldiers pulled up in front of the building, capturing your attention.

They stormed the building, guns drawn, as you watched helplessly. You heard screaming, and then gunshots. You stood frozen to the ground, stunned. Another terrorist attack, your mom was right.

Joel's eyes looked panicked and confused, before he grasped you by your shoulders and forced your attention back on him. He said something to you, but you didn't hear it, still staring at him, dazed.

"Run!" He yelled, again. That time you heard him. You dropped the box in your arms as he grasped your hand in his own, dragging you both down the street, opposite the office building.

Chapter Six

[isaksbestpillow]

More Ossan's Love Returns details

You thought I was done with this show after subbing it??? No! This is a continuation to my earlier post.

The game and tv controllers aren't always in the same place, meaning someone actually uses them.

I love all the random appearances of Kikunosuke's riceballs haha. The Tall size really is tall!

I think this is Kikunosuke's room. He doesn't have much decor, only gym equipment. The framed motto on the wall says 万里一空 banri ikkuu ('ten thousand ri (old japanese unit) one sky'), work towards your goal no matter how long it takes. It was originally coined by the legendary swordsman Miyamoto Musashi. It suits Kikunosuke well since he's kept pining for over a decade!

Maki actually keeps studying Chinese throughout the season even though it doesn't come up in conversation. The red book he carries around is his Chinese textbook.

I just realised this reference may not have been clear to everyone, so I'm including it here. In episode five after the ridiculous gay on gay violence Kurosawa takes a kabuki mie pose with his fan as the curtain closes on the antics. The battle is kind of like crazy kabuki play foreshadowed by the sound of shishiodoshi throughout the episode.

Look on the left! They put up their wedding photos!!

I just love this shot.

Chief's get well soon gifts from when he was in the hospital and people thought he was dying. Teppei gave him his cd 完敗 (kanpai, total defeat, pun on 乾杯 kanpai as in cheers). The book is from Maika judging by the title (sexy neighbour) lol. Haruta & Maki went with a more conservative wrapped gift. I don't know who brought the flowers (I think they're kasumisou/gypsophila), but white flowers are generally not recommend for hospital visits because they're associated with buddhist offerings, which I think is part of the joke. In fact, this whole setup looks like an altar of offerings with the flowers and the apples and the riceballs.

Their bowls go together with their matching couple loungewear!!

Izumi started buying a new kind of bread after making peace with Akito's death and gave it to Kikunosuke, what if I cry!! I wonder if he started buying strawberry jam bread for Akito and himself after that strawberry crepe confession episode.

Maki is reading a book in the final spin-off. It's actually the same book he was reading in season one in the episode where he got sick. It's not a real book, but the title is Tokunaga, inu ni nazukeru tte yo ('Tokunaga said he's gonna name the dog', a pun on the book/movie Kirishima, bukatsu yameru tte yo 'Kirishima said he's gonna quit the school club'). Tokunaga is the name of the character Hayashi Kento played on the Netflix series Hanabi. There's a chihuahua on the cover as a nod to Maki being compared to a chihuahua on the show multiple times.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Safer With Me ❌

⚣❌ A/N → Yandere! Arkham!Jason Todd. Inspired by @yanderes-galore and their prompt writing for Jason. Prompts below were selected with a randomizer wheel. WARNINGS: Abduction/Kidnapping, Minor themes of Non-Con, Stalking/Obsessive Behavior, Depictions of Violence and Gun-Use

Prompt List Here! #40: "I know what's best for you, just trust me on this one." #18: "There's no use in sucking up to me now."

⚣❌ Summary → Homeless on the streets after your parents kicked you out when you came out to them, fate seemed to take mercy on you as you were taken in by Gotham's Billionaire Playboy, Bruce Wayne. But, your stay with him is not long as someone has been keeping an eye on you. An old acquaintance of your new guardian who had a plan of getting you away from the famed CEO. Why? Because you were safer with him, why else?

⚣❌ Words → 1.8k

REBLOGS and replies very appreciated, please! ❤️

⚣ ENJOY ❌

You couldn’t figure out how you ended up in this situation.

A few months before this entire mess of a night, your parents had kicked you out on the streets after coming out to them as gay. Kind of ironic knowing the other stuff they ‘tolerated’, but whatever. 

So after that, you were sleeping on the streets, doing what you had to do to survive. It’s Gotham City, so you were bound to eventually run into trouble. Some guys who were clearly drunk off their asses decided to start harassing you then Batman showed up to save the day. But he barely got a punch in before you had all three of them laying on their asses in pain.

There was a reason you asked your parents for self-defense classes the moment you came to terms with your sexuality. The world was changing, but not quickly enough.

So, the Dark Knight dropped you off at the police station where coincidentally, Bruce Wayne happened to show up and offered to take you in. You’d heard about the billionaire’s ‘hobby’ of taking in kids off the street and giving them a better life, and what more pleasing way to shove the middle finger at your parents than to end up in the care of someone who seemed to actually give a fuck about you more than they ever pretended to?

Then, the tests started. You figured Bruce was testing your skills to see how well you’d be able to take care of yourself just in case another incident happened as the one Batman found you in. They continued for a while, and before Bruce got to tell you what they were actually for, it was too late.

A few months after your move-in into Wayne Manor, you started getting the feeling you were being watched. And growing up in Gotham, you always knew it was better to listen to your instincts and be wrong than not listen and still be wrong.

A week before the attack on the city from Scarecrow, you had been on your way home walking since Bruce wasn’t able to pick you up due to some ‘unforeseen circumstances’. You’d soon come to find out all of that was a diversion so Arkham Knight and his militiamen had a clear shot at nabbing you. 

When you turned down a corner to an empty street, they pulled you into an alleyway and jumped you. You did your best to fight them off, but they began to overwhelm you. Somehow, you gained an upper hand though, the goons not expecting you to be as trained as you were. 

Just before you could take out the last of them though, he showed up and surprised you from behind, covering your nose and mouth with a rag seeped in nitrous oxide, putting you right to sleep.

Right before you lost consciousness, you heard a modulated voice chuckle in your ear, “Don’t worry, I got you. You’re safe with me now.”

You woke up in a dark room with hands and feet tied together and a splitting headache to match the aches around your body. You looked around to see the room you were in was empty, but you could hear voices on the outside talking.

“Why do you think Knight wanted him in the first place?”

“If I had to guess, it probably got something to do with the Bat himself.”

“Hmm, maybe. Personally, I think he’s got a thing for him. Not my place to judge, but I’ve heard and seen how protective he gets of him. Did you see the way he brought him in? Not one of us was allowed to even touch him.”

You didn’t know what to make of it or how to make sense of it. Didn’t have the time to do it either since you heard footsteps approaching the door. You listened to that same modulated voice you’d heard before you passed out giving an order to open the door. 

Laying back down in the position you were in before, you pretended to be still asleep.

You could hear the heavy footsteps as if whoever this was wearing the heaviest of heaviest boots in the world. The nervous feeling in your chest grew more and more the closer they sounded. Doing your best to stay still, you tried slowing your breathing down to a relaxed pace as you felt the thuds on the ground from him coming to stand next to you, feeling his entire presence standing over your body. You prepared your body figuring he may kick, slap, or even yell for you to wake up.

You did not expect to feel a gloved hand caressing your face.

“I know you’re awake.” He spoke before removing his hands and standing back up.

Opening your eyes, you saw a glowing screen mask staring down at you. 

You heard their modulated voice chuckle as he watched you slowly sit back up. “You didn’t think we’d have cameras inside watching to see when you’d got up?” He stated before gesturing to the cameras around the room. 

The mysterious soldier turned around to grab the only chair in the room, moving it to the middle of the room before coming back to lift you off the ground, settling you into the chair gently.

“Why am I here?”

“I know what’s best for you, just trust me on this one. You’re safer with me than with him.”

“Him? Who are you talking about?” You asked with a puzzled look coming across your face.

He didn’t immediately respond, but you could tell he was debating on something, you just didn’t know what.

“In time, you’ll find out.” He replied simply.

“What do you want?” You asked.

“Direct and to the point, huh? Knew there was something I liked about you.” He laughed, walking to stand in front of you with his arms crossed.

“Must be a lot of things from what I’ve heard. Otherwise, I don’t think I’d be sitting here.”

“Really? Well, if I were you, I’d think better than believing everything I hear.” He said, grabbing your chin a little rough, forcing you to look up at him.

You scowled at the armor-clad man before spitting at him. You watched the glob of saliva run down his mask before the hand on your chin grabbed at your neck. You clawed at his wrists to no avail as he lifted you out of the seat.

“That wasn’t very nice. Say you’re sorry, and I won’t hurt you… much.” He said, getting very close to your face to the point you could feel the electricity buzzing off the screen.

“Fuck you, asshole.” You spat at him.

He chuckled darkly, before kicking the chair you were sitting on.

“If you insist.”

He slammed you down on the ground, your breath escaping you and your vision going blurred. He kept his hand tight on your neck while the other one went down to your pants, undoing the belt and button before attempting to pull them down.

“No!” You whimpered, trying to fight back against him. He placed his body over your kicking legs, his heavyweight managing to hold them still while he now went to put his hands up your shirt. He felt all over your upper body, even stopping to pinch at your nipples a few times, before his hand went back down to your pants, sticking them down your underwear. You cried out at the feeling, trying your best to get him off you, but the dude was like a tank, and you were getting weaker with the more time he spent choking the air out of you. He started trying to push down your pants again before you both heard pounding against the door.

“Knight! Scarecrow says we gotta move!”

He held still for a moment before you felt him release you. You gasped for breath while he re-did your pants before pulling you up from the ground. Your body lay against his weak while feeling a little lightheaded from being jerked up so suddenly.

“You got lucky, this time. But, I wouldn’t try a move like that again. You won’t be leaving anytime soon

“Batman will. He’ll kick your ass.” You groaned from the soreness around your throat while panting into his chest armor.

You felt the chuckle vibrate from his chest before he bent down to lift you in a bridal hold.

“I was held captive once too, tortured even. Thought the same thing. It’s nice for a while but you’ll get over it soon enough.”

You struggled in the hold as he moved toward the door letting out a whimper from the pain your body was still in. “Please… just let me go.” You begged.

“Aww, already giving in? Cute. And smart. But, too little, too late. There’s no use in sucking up to me now.” He said, before heading out of the room to wherever.

You watched from around the corner, a gag tied over your mouth now with your hands bound in front of you as one of the militiamen held you in place. You saw Batman come around the corner and tried to scream out to warn him but was too late as Knight had jumped from the ledge he was hiding on shooting at him. 

Batman managed to dodge but was quickly knocked to the ground. Before he could get up, Knight walked over and placed his foot on his chest, pinning him down to the ground.

“Oh no, no, you’re not going anywhere, old man.”

You looked in horror as Knight switched hands with the gun he was holding, pointing it down directly at the masked vigilante.

“Tri-weave, titanium coated, armor plating. Nice. Unless you know exactly…where to shoot.” He said, before placing the gun down on his lower abdomen and pulling the trigger. You flinched at the sound, watching him groan in pain before Knight moved his foot off his chest.

“You’re good, Dark Knight. Even better than I remember. It’s going to make it even more satisfying when I kill you. Oh, and, don’t worry about Barbara. I’ll take better care of her than you ever did. Y/N too, he’s mine now.” You heard him say, walking toward where you and the others were standing around the corner.

“Batman’s in the control room. Show him what happens when he messes with my city and tries to take what doesn’t belong to him.”

Knight walked toward you as the militiaman immediately released you into his embrace. He cradled you gently even as you tried to push out of his hold. When he got tired of you fighting him, he just picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder, carrying you away from the room.

“You’re better off without him anyway.”

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️