#;; parent-child game club is the only acceptable game club

[cheer-nympho]

The older kids all have wills.

Nancy, Robin, Steve and Jonathan, ages 18 to 21, all have wills tucked away in various boxes under beds and behind wardrobes.

Their similarities only extending to the fear felt when writing them, mixed with resigned acceptance. A common feeling of “Man, it sure is sad that my late teenage years are spent contemplating the very real possibility of gruesome early death, I should be at the club.”

But in every other aspect they are completely different.

Nancy’s was written on a cream notepad with dainty flowers surrounding the border. Written from a view of logic and forward planning, a need to protect her family. All of the demands straight to the point, no nonsense.

Warped only by the small tear stains across the bottom.

Robin’s was clearly written in a panic, barely legible handwriting on a ripped off lined sheet.

Written after she read an article about a man whose boyfriend was refused access to him after his death because there was no will.

She refused to leave anyone in the dark like that.

Jonathan’s was the most emotional, surprisingly. But most of that emotion was palpable anger, the word “nothing” pressed so hard into the yellow paper next to Lonnies name it had almost ripped the page.

Even if it was the last thing he did, Jon would keep Lonnie away from them.

Steves was written begrudgingly, more out of a need to prevent his parents from tossing it all. They weren’t around to know about Robin or the kids, wouldn’t know he’d promised Lucas the car or Max his records.

They weren’t evil people, they just didn’t know. This way they would.

They hadn’t spoken about it in advance, hadn’t co-ordinated it or hidden them together like a morbid friendship pact. They had all just at some point come to the realisation that, given their current lives, it may one day be necessary.

Eddie had not had that thought.

Eddie Munson had many thoughts.

He had thoughts on the disease of pop music sweeping the last worthwhile radio station, he had thoughts on the price increases in his favourite gaming store in Indy, he had thoughts on selling enough stock to buy a new trailer gas canister.

What he very rarely had thoughts on was death.

It took a lot for him to say that these days, considering where he’d been not too many years ago. But these days the only thoughts on death he had were more abstract and fleeting, nothing more than the average schmuck.

And even if the thought would have crossed his mind, he would have shrugged it off with a ‘Wayne knows what to do.’

He had no other family and, as far as Eddie was concerned, nothing particularly valuable to single out to anyone. He may need one of the guys to burn the shoebox hidden under his bed, but that could be a more verbal agreement between bros.

So Eddie didn’t have a will.

Didn’t have a plan, didn’t have the worry.

And it’s not until he’s lying on his back, being cradled by a child that frankly should not have to see the insides of Eddies stomach, that he remembers that.

It rushes to him in a panic, the thoughts feeling slow and syrupy but in reality only taking a split second.

He needed to write a will.

He needed Wayne to know that Eddie /wanted/ him to have everything, not just given it by family rights.

He needed to write Dustin in, and Corroded Coffin, maybe even some random shit for all the other nerds.

A donation to Hawkins Church to really confuse them, not that Eddie would be leaving any money behind. Maybe they could have his guitar.

When he got back he would write it up on the finest non-scrunched up paper he could find.

When he got back he would take care of it all.

But that was a job for later Eddie, right now he really needed to sleep.

He could see Dustin crying above him but that was okay, he’d take care of it when he woke up.

When he wakes up he’ll take care of it all.

When he wakes up he’ll write his will.

When he wakes up.

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!x reader)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI | BOOK #2 (S.H.)

Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series (completed)

* loosely inspired by Sara Cate’s “Salacious Players Club” series

🔥 EXTRA CONTENT HERE 🔥

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016** , 017, 018, 019, 020*

* = somewhat smutty chapters , ** = smut chapters

Summary: 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓. After getting kicked out by your brother, you have no other choice but to take off your big girl pants and add stripper to your resume. Desperate to pay the bills and support your little sister, are you willing to accept the risks that come with such a perilous profession? With the stage name ‘Shy Girl’, you take the leap of faith, weaponizing your divine femininity to steal the hearts of all the bachelors in Hawkins — including Eddie Munson’s, the owner of Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club.

warnings & disclaimers — slow burn, eventual smut (a lot of it), voyeurism, mutual pining, sexual tension, jealousy, drug/alcohol, profanities, sexual harassment, domestic violence

Welcome to Hellfire.

theme song: meet you in hell by jade lemac “Look me in my eyes. I know that you’re scared. You see yourself and you cry for help. Look me in my eyes. Tell me it’s not fair. If you taught me well, I’ll meet you in hell.”

Chapter 001: Wolves

The Hargroves are cursed. Generationally, that is. One night Billy takes it too far, costing him the only thing he had left... his sisters.

TW — abuse, domestic violence, blood, profanities, implications of infidelity, death

word count: 8.5k words

author's note: there are four different acts to this introductory chapter :) so much foundation to lay down and i spent forever on this to craft it perfectly for you guys. thank you for being as excited about this fanfic as I am releasing it. i hope you all enjoy! -madelyn

tags: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n

_______________𓆩♡𓆪_______________

"Once I ran to you. Now I run from you."

♡

Duality of man. Mom was always a firm believer in that notion. In fact, she always used to say, "Inside of you, there are two wolves: a good one and a bad one. Depending on which mouth you feed, one will triumph the other.”

It became more evident when she died.

“YOU FUCKING SLUT. GRAB YOUR SHIT AND GO.”

Once identical in every aspect, the differences between you and your brother slowly began to unravel over time.

Being ‘good wolf’ was impossible while living under the same roof as Billy. So you settled for neutral wolf instead. Meanwhile, the big, bad wolf possessed him at age 15, when he realized hitting your father back would get him to back off.

It was 2010, post-homecoming game.

Dad nearly flung Billy into another dimension when he came home. The preferred alternative would have been attempting to reason with one another, but it just wasn’t something that was normalized in the Hargrove household. Communicating with words was a daunting task; but not nearly as daunting as accountability.

“I’M DONE WITH YOU, BILLY. GRAB YOUR SHIT AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE.”

“I’m a literal minor, you can’t do this, Dad!” Billy wailed. "PLEASE!"

Over a football game.

The Friday Night Lights were a staple of Vista Palms High School. That and all of its nacho-eating, pot-smoking, LMFAO-playing, neon-filled goodness.

"C’mon V-P, c’mon, let’s beat S-D!” For weeks Billy had been chanting that mantra. There was no clearer indication that it’s where he would be the night of the championship game. He didn’t communicate it, of course, but it was implied. But still, it didn’t cross Dad’s mind.

Any parent who thought their child was coming home on time — and sober — that night was a foolish one. Especially if their kid was a sophomore with senior status.

“You sure as hell don't act like one,” Dad spat. “Coming home, acting all grown." Little did Dad know Billy was there for community service. Billy was a good student. More than anything he wanted a full ride to a UC, mainly to get away from home. Either that or military. Maybe then, walking on eggshells and being accused of something he didn't do — like drinking and doing drugs — would be a seasonal occurence instead of daily. "ACTING LIKE YOU PAY THE BILLS. YOU DON'T. YOUR MOM AND I DO.”

Dad knew he hit a nerve. It was his signature move aside from alienating his victims to establish control. While the feeling of getting your wings clipped really did you in, reactive abuse was Billy's top trigger, especially when Mom was mentioned. After all, Billy was the one who found Her.

Through glassy eyes and gritted teeth, Billy closed up his fists before mustering up the courage to say, “I’m…not…calling Sue... the operative word.”

Dad snarled. “Like there’s anyone else physically here you’ve reserved that title for?”

Oh.

"This tainted love you've given-"

Billy took the bait, lunging forward to grab Dad. As if on cue, Dad winded up his arm, assuming his usual position. You managed to assert yourself between in hopes of stopping them. Suddenly the back of Dad's hand collided with your cheek, sprawling you onto the couch. Billy watched horrified while you fought to keep your eyes open, growing anxious when all you could hear was the room pulsating around you at the highest frequency you had ever heard in your 15 long years of life. Enough was enough.

One punch. Bridge of the nose. Game over. The control Dad had over you both had ceased.

Billy rushed to your aid while Dad took a few moments to gather himself. It was then his beat-in, throbbing eyes realized that the little boy he mercilessly pushed around was no longer there. His own little Frankenstein had taken his place.

"I gave you all a boy could give you"

"Oh my god, Sissy," Billy cried, crouching down to run a soothing hand through your hair. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you sniff, wrapping a hand around his arm. "I'm fine, Billy. I promise."

"I'm not gonna let that son of a bitch hurt you ever again," he vowed. "I'm gonna fuck him up and anyone else who tries."

"I love you, Brother."

"I love you, Sissy." The magnitude of power that surged through Billy melted into every neuron in his body, the warmth of its adrenaline imitating a tender — long overdue — embrace. He became fully enveloped in what was like an electric current, its tide higher than any wave he's ever surfed. It became more exhilarating than cruising down the I-5 in his Camaro at 130 MPH, and more intoxicating than any keg of beer he's ever swigged at a Wanna-be Project X Party.

It was the rush Billy had been searching for his whole life.

Every high Billy ever pursued before that rapidly declined in value. He would trade in anything for the static that had encoded itself into him. He felt untouchable, a luxury your father couldn’t afford his wife and children.

"YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON HER AGAIN, YOU'RE DEAD DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

From that day forward, feeling respected was a freedom Billy was not willing to sacrifice, ever.

"Take my tears and that's not nearly all-"

But now Billy is the abuser, something you never imagined happening given his innately soft personality.

"Oh, tainted love. Don't touch me! Please.”

Slapping. Biting. Choking each other out. Pulling each other’s hair. Calling each other names. Spitting. Throwing things. Who would’ve thought the Hargrove twins were capable of the same horrors as their parents?

Yesterday was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Billy’s voice, like nails on a chalkboard, clawed at your brain in agonizing intervals.

“That’s all Max is. A pathetic little liar.”

“She will do anything for any bit of attention…even whore herself out to all the men in Del Mar.”

“You can get out. And stay out. Since you wanna act so grown all the damn time.”

He became the very thing — or person rather — he sought to destroy. The very person who indirectly, but explicably killed your mother.

And deep down you feared that if you and your stepsister Max don’t get out of that house, you’d both suffer that same fate.

“It's fucking JULY and 90 degrees out!” your sister retaliated. “What do you want me to wear to the beach? Fucking sweats?"

Max was out with friends the night prior. They hosted a birthday bonfire for her at the beach. She broke curfew and got a ride home from a friend. A guy friend. Billy wasn’t having it.

Max always got the short end of the stick. She was an easy target for Billy’s antics. Being the literal carbon copy of the woman he hates the most didn’t make it any better, and neither did taking the bait whenever Billy dealt it to “keep the peace”. Max believes being and acting helpless would get Billy to back down. It was far from the truth. In reality, she was feeding him his supply.

And what a volatile supply it is.

Mom also had another saying: "Anger is just grief with nowhere to go".

So you watched Billy and Max go back and forth with their pickleball tournament-o-insults, shouting at one another to their lungs’ capacity, their dead, black pupils strangling each other mentally while they gathered the physical strength to do so as well. You kept an arm halfway up and torso slightly turned in case you needed to butt in.

“I do this because I love you, Maxine,” Billy insisted. “So just SHUT UP and stop being a little cunt. Okay?”

“You stop being a presumptuous asshole first,” Max fired back. “We’re fighting again — why? Because someone with a penis drove me home? And we broke curfew by 10 minutes? I don’t control traffi-”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he dismissed her. “Just say you wanted some dick and call it a night.”

Classic slut-shaming, as if Billy’s Instagram following wasn’t all models, strippers, and OnlyFans girls.

Before you could even process what was happening, the blurbs of their argument skidded to a halt when Max finally broke. Billy watched in subtle amusement as she screamed, her fist meeting the wall repeatedly out of frustration.

Reactive abuse is Billy’s favorite abuse tactic.

“Someone who’s not guilty wouldn’t react like this,” Billy quipped in a sing-song voice, eyeing the new hole in the dry wall that Max had created.

There was no sense in backtracking if Billy already got what he wanted. Max just needed the last word. Before any of you could process it, an acrylic storage box soared through the air, hitting Billy right in the groin. He roared in agony while Max attempted to collect herself off to the side. She still saw red.

That’s when the knife came out.

One slice to the brow and it was over. To ensure the last word was his to keep, Billy ended up chucking a knife at your sister.

“OHMYGOD!” Max shrieked repeatedly, entering the ‘freeze’ stage of her shock. “OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD, I’M BLEEDING! I’M BLEEDING, THERE’S BLOOD!”

It was then you realized, the little boy you vowed to protect and refused to leave behind was long gone. Dad’s essence had taken his place now.

“You just don’t know when to FUCKING STOP, do you?” you exclaimed, putting pressure on Max’s eyebrow with a washcloth as she wailed. Suddenly it was Dad you were talking to. They had the same apathetic, dead look in their eyes. “I don’t care who said or did what, throwing a fucking KNIFE?”

“Me?” Billy tutted. “You wanna call me crazy, who did that?” He was referring to the hole in the wall. “And who was the one to throw shit first? EXACTLY. EXACTLY.”

While Billy was technically correct, he would never admit to what he did to provoke you two.

“So you can both get out if you’d like. Be my fucking guests.”

You and Max exchanged one look. The look. It was time. You both were ready and now had the green light. Now was the chance to bolt without immediate consequences.

So you and your sister spent several minutes rummaging through your pre-packed belongings while Billy continued to shit-talk aimlessly around the rental you shared. The place soon reeked of cheap bud and gas station gin. Trash bags were soon filled with your favorite clothes and you shoved them into as many of your childhood suitcases as possible. Struggling to see past your tear-coated eyes, you reached for your books, the ones you've hollowed out 300 pages deep to pocket all the tips from your waitressing job, and shoved the loose bills into your crossbody. You’d sort through them later. Lastly, you popped the cap off the bottom of your salt lamp. There was a pre-paid Visa you bought several months beforehand waiting for you. With trembling hands, you grasped it and whispered a gratitude to the Universe before tucking it neatly into the back pocket of your Levi’s.

When it was all said and done and everything was loaded into your car, you focus on the hole in the dry wall one last time.

Never again.

Billy was complacent throughout the entirety of the event. You glared at him while he continued to soothe himself with drugs and alcohol, refusing to own up to the irreversible damage he caused your little family.

“SIS,” Max boomed from outside. “LET’S GO!”

A part of you used to pity Billy, but now his destructive behavior took away any ounce of guilt you felt for leaving him.

You never fought back until you had no other choice. Similarly, and tragically, Billy shared that very sentiment.

Who the villain is in the narrative relied solely on whose lens you are looking through.

It took you by surprise all the time. How could identical twins, who grew up in the same environment, end up so different from one another?

“I love you, though you hurt me so. Now I’m gonna pack my things and go." - Tainted Love by Soft Cell

There are two wolves inside of everyone.

——————————𓇼——————--------

"Are the pieces of you in the pieces of me? I'm just so scared you're who I'll be. When I erupt just like you do, they look at me like I look at you" - DNA by Lia Marie Johnson

The heart-wrenching ballad by Lia Marie Johnson dissolves as you crank the dial to the left. Music is always depressing when Max has the aux chord.

"Did you hear what I said?" you question her.

Max abruptly sits up and reorients herself, attempting to shrug off the trance “DNA” had put her in for a few minutes.

"No, sorry. What'd you say again?"

"Do you need a bathroom break?"

"I'll go at the airport.”

"Okay, but if you change your mind and decide to take a leak one last time, I'll be happy to oblige.”

Swami’s is also an exit away and you’re just fixing for a hot meal before takeoff. But you don’t directly say that. Besides, Max loses her appetite when she’s upset and may only have room for shitty airplane food.

“I’ll just eat on the plane.”

Stale pretzels and flat soda it is.

Despite the decrease in appetite, Max is holding up well. As well as anyone-who-was-nearly-stabbed-by-her-brother-and-is-now-moving-states-away-from-everything-she’s-ever-known-with-her-sister could be.

It wasn’t your first choice to leave California. In fact, you did everything you could to avoid it. But nonetheless, anyone with a conscious and only $4,000 to their name would make the wise decision to move away to somewhere more affordable.

Enter your online friend, Robin.

Working ungodly hours six days a week to pay the bills took up so much of your time that you had no friends in San Diego — albeit high school friends who would have never guessed how you and Billy turned out. Those friends had happy families anyway. They couldn’t hold space for you. Your online friend Robin, who you met on an art forum, however knew your family dynamic and was there for everything. But she lived in Indiana with her partner and was never able to offer you any physical comfort.

You entertained Robin’s idea of moving to where she lives, a small town in Indiana called Hawkins just 20 minutes southeast of the city. Living under the radar to get your ducks in a row seemed like such a perfect plan, but you didn’t want to do so at the expense of Max losing her only support system she had outside of you.

Moving would’ve also meant pulling her out of school, which wouldn’t be possible because Billy was her legal guardian. Now that she’s graduated high school, and today is her 18th birthday, the game has changed completely.

“Donovan texted me happy birthday,” Max reports, finally disclosing a fragment of her inner conscience. “Thought it was sweet.”

You can’t help but smile. "You thought he wouldn’t?”

She refrains from rolling her eyes and shifts them towards the rocky beach cliffs outside her window.

“You know,” you add. “I really think you two could make long distance work. I’ve never seen so much chemistry between two people before.”

Max scoffs. "Yeah right. Long distance with a guy going to Santa Barbara for college?” She fiddles with the strings of the knit poncho resting atop her lap. “I'd be breaking my own heart."

You bite your lip to stop the waterworks. Max doesn’t deserve any of this. She deserves to enjoy bonfires with her skater friends, surf all the tubular waves, and go on all the nature hikes without worrying about her stepbrother’s codependent-fits-of-rage waiting for her when she comes home. She deserves to eat fried funnel cake at the county fair and share a kiss with the boy of her dreams atop a Ferris wheel on the 4th of July. She deserves a San Diego summer, not a summer spent in hiding from her abuser in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

Max decides to change the subject.

“So what’s Robin like? Your online friend.”

“She’s very sweet,” you breathe. “Been, uh, telling her about Billy for a long time now. Her arms have been open since day one.”

“And her girlfriend?”

“Vicky’s the best,” you insist. “A match made in heaven for sure. It’s like they’re the same person, just different font.”

You get a giggle out of Max. Her laughter during such a turbulent time is like music to your ears. The non-depressing kind.

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t get you a gift this year.”

She side eyes you.

“What are you talking about? You quite literally gave me the best gift of all.”

“Did I? What did I give you?”

“You gave me safety.”

And with that, you give yourself a mental pat on the back, confident you made the right choice despite how foreign everything currently felt. The conversation dies down while you and Max ride on, driving further and further away from the Park and Ride you spent the night at, off Coast Highway, and onto the I-5 one last time.

Boarding the plane is a swift process. Your plane is a two-seater, so Max gets the window and you get the aisle. After receiving your snacks and drinks, you decide to play white noise and dissociate for the next five hours. It’s safe to do so, anyways. Liminal spaces were not something you took for granted.

Meanwhile, Max looks out the window, watching as the world she has come to know her whole life shrinks right before her eyes, before disappearing underneath a quilt of soft white cumulus clouds.

“This is 18.”

Goodbye, San Diego.

—————— ✈︎ ———————

Hello, Hawkins.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Robin incites, trudging through the miscellaneous projects that sit at her feet. “As if we weren’t DIY freaks enough, the pandemic really just amplified that.”

The pandemic was a hard time for everyone. You lost your fine dining gig and abruptly switched to UberEats to adjust to the flow of takeout. Billy couldn’t go to the gym, his happy place, and it took a toll on him mentally. Max broke quarantine multiple times to see Donovan, which didn’t sit well with your brother. He of course lashed out on her and also proclaimed that people like her were the reason why America hadn’t opened up yet.

“And I get no time at the gym!” Billy screamed. “So now I have to do this—”

You learned that a decent lamp costed $70 that night.

That wasn’t your first rodeo though. You and Billy grew up replacing furniture all the time. You two would gather up your money and spend it on replacing whatever needed replacing for Mom’s birthday. She always wanted to make your house feel like a home. Feel lived in. You and Billy thought you were heroes doing it, but it dawns on you now that you two were just babies.

“Oh!” Vicky interrupts. “Before we forget…”

You and Max watch her as she scrambles around, looking for something that she seemed ecstatic about.

“Happy birthday, Max!”

“No way, Kate Bush!” Max exclaims as she accepts the gift, an original Kate Bush vinyl record of her album Hounds of Love.

"Wow," you beam, rubbing your sister’s back. “Way to fuel her 80's hyperfixation, huh?"

“We found this at the thrift store,” Vicky boasted. “Knew we had to get it for ya.”

“It’s the real deal too," Robin adds. "Look, printed 1985.”

“It’s perfect,” Max gushes. “Can’t wait to play it on my Crosley.”

She thanks them both and hugs them before running back to the living room to get the rest of your belongings. You listen as she hums some of Kate Bush’s discography along the way.

You then observe Max as she unpacks her things one by one, slightly peppered with remnants of the California sand and the snobby fee it took to ship it all here via cargo. She then proceeds to sit on the new bed to check the springing quality, testing its bounce factor and comparing it to that of her old bed.

You let out a bittersweet sigh.

Suddenly you're eight years old, doing the same thing at the local motel Mom managed to snag a couple nights from when Dad trashed the house.

You turn to look in the mirror atop your new dresser.

Suddenly, you're Mom. Quite literally. You both have the same wavy blonde hair, scattered freckles across your nose that Billy used to call “stardust”, and the same tsunami blue eyes. It makes it no wonder why you and Dad never got along. You are Mom’s spitting image — and Billy is Dad’s.

Funny how life turns out.

You graze the crows feet at the outer corner of your eyes, realizing now how many years have silently passed you by, and then take note of the stress-defined scars in the form of eye baggage from all the sleepless nights that came as a souvenir.

You’ve put up with so much. For so long. The trauma is starting to manifest itself physically.

Robin snaps you back into present day. "So I was thinking we go to Applebee's for dinner, walk around Old Town, get you guys settled and unpacked when we return, Jenga at night, and then-"

She stops when she sees the horrified expression on your face.

“Hey…” the pitch in her comforting, raspy voice heightens. “What’s the matter?”

Your voice breaks. “It’s…” you manage. “It’s been a lot.”

Robin pats your back. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

Without looking, Robin snags a few tissues from a box laying around and gives them to you. You blot the tears away, careful not to mess up the makeup you had on with the intention to make you look less…dead.

“Sue didn’t even call and wish her happy birthday. Her own mother.”

“I’m so sorry,” Robin repeats.

“Every day I watch Max store her trauma in the box... and just shove it into the corner where it gathers dust,” you continue. “If she doesn't unpack it..."

You didn’t even want to think of the collateral damage you and your brother caused her. A part of you wants to think Maxine has remained untouched from that side of you, but the dry blood on her outer brow was a reminder that it was far too late to shelter her from that.

"You see yourself in her."

"And my mom in myself,” you admit. “Now more than ever.”

You rub your eyes.

“I’m rambling, I know. It’s just… SO aggravating. Max deserves better.”

“She’s handling it really well.”

“We don’t know that. I know Max. She’s a pro at hiding her feelings.”

“She’s being strong for you, like you are for her. It’s very endearing, whether you both admit it to each other or not.”

She rubs your arm.

“For as long as Vicky and I are here, you and Maxine have a soft place to land. We are here for you. Y’all are safe.”

You two glance over at Max, who is now unpacking your Zen Basics Himalayan salt lamp. She sets it on top your new bedside table, a reupholstered one whose old wood was painted over by an earthy olive green, the old hardware replaced by eccentric shaped, neutral-toned knobs. Her Crosley sits on your floor, now playing a track off Kate Bush's vinyl while she stares out the window. Your new view for the foreseeable future.

Can't you see where memories are kept bright?

Tripping on the water like a laughing girl

Time in her eyes is spawning past life

One with the ocean and the woman unfurled

Holding all the love that waits for you here

Catch us now for I am your future

A kiss on the wind and we'll make the land.

Dinnertime comes fast, but you blame it on the time zone difference. You call shotgun and ride with Robin in the passenger seat, catching up with your best friend while Vicky and Max watch YouTube shorts in the backseat.

Robin gives you a backstory of everything you pass on the way to Applebees, from the schools to churches to family-owned gas stations. She and Vicky seem to know everyone by a first-name basis, naming random people off and knowing exactly who that is every so often. You try to stay engaged, but the only thing on your mind is where you’re going to apply for a job.

Robin drives into a plaza next.

"This used to be a mall, but now it's completely empty," Robin continues pointing to an empty building with remnants of a star symbol etched on it. "E-commerce really turned this strip into a ghost town."

"So basically, if I wanted a job, it would have to be any of these food places, an office of sorts, or an off-brand Blockbuster store?"

"Family Video is closing too," Vicky chimes in. "It's sad. But I guess Hawkins needs yet another overpriced coffee shop."

"You could always work at the gentlemen's club," Max jokes, pointing off to the side.

You turn to where she’s pointing and take note of the matte black rectangular building by the Sizzler’s. It didn’t seem out of place, but the silhouette of an exotic dancer with devil horns gave the sinister establishment away. You couldn’t read the name of the club, but a part of you tries to.

Robin slightly turns and nods in that direction. "Oh yeah. I heard the girls there make bank in tips."

“I made bank in La Jolla doing fine dining,” you point out. “Maybe I can do the same thing here. But at a similar establishment.”

“Fanciest restaurant you’ll get here is Benny’s,” Vicky says. “You’re gonna have to go to the city for fine dining. I don’t think the commute is worth.”

“Guess stripper is your best option,” Max nudges you.

You shoot a glare her way. “Very funny.”

"I know, I was joking," she scoffs. "Billy would kill you anyways."

Billy would literally go insane if you dared to work at a strip club. The slut-shaming would never end. Not that he never slut-shamed you anyway. There was always something for him to be misogynistic and hypocritical about.

Then it hits you. Billy isn't here. And you really need the money since in this day and age, $4,000 meant nothing. You peer over at the gentlemen's club one last time as it shrinks out of view the further Robin drives.

HELLFIRE.

-----------𓆩♡𓆪------------

Dungeons & Dragons.

Of course one of the very few strip clubs in Hawkins has to be the dorkiest.

But you understand the vision. Beyond the cobblestone entrance, the veil between real life and fantasy thins.

As you near the club with nothing but a purse and car keys in hand, you notice that there’s already security by the door. You’re surprised to see a leaner guy, tall and slender with soft blonde hair and a soft grin to match. He catches sight of you and greets you with a nod.

“Good afternoon,” he says. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” you nod. You reach for your wallet and give him your ID. Typical screening process. “Yourself?”

“Not too shabby,” he replies.

He examines your ID card. You notice his surprise when his eyes slightly widen before retracting shortly after. You guess that he was wondering why you are here out of all places. You peer over at his name tag while he concludes his screening. Henry.

Upon verification of your identity, the friendly security guard returns your card to you.

“Let me give you a wrist band.”

He motions for you to hold an arm out. You extend your right arm to him and watch as he gracefully pulls a paper wristband out of his pocket, clasping it into place with the side that read “21+” facing upwards.

You take the time to admire the gentleness of this man. The softness of his face. His dreamy gaze.

“Any weapons on you?”

“Uh…” you stammer. “Just pepper spray?”

A laugh escapes from his nostrils. “That’s fine, my dear.”

“I hope I don’t have to use it.”

“Don’t worry, darling. Under my watch, you won’t.”

Henry gently strokes your hand before motioning you inside.

“Enjoy the show.”

“Thanks,” you smile politely.

It’s a slow afternoon, but granted no one goes to a strip club at 2 PM. The Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club was comprehensively laced with playful innuendos. The accent wall by the entrance showcases an array of chains and handcuffs. Kukris, nun-chucks, and flails all of different variants and sizes are displayed on the walls, the point of balance being a vintage pulp print of a metal puppeteer. On the print, "OBEY YOUR MASTER" is written in edgy bubble letters.

Kinky.

And there’s a bonus of this themed club: the ladies are dressed in cloaks. You watch as beautiful women from all walks of life strut around the joint, leaving the clients with only their imagination to guess what’s underneath the tantalizing, medieval velvet.

There are LED signs that lit up corners of the space, indicating what they were for. KAS’ KORNER: GRAB A BITE, DRAGON'S BREATH: HOOKAH LOUNGE, and POTIONS — the bar.

You catch a glimpse of the private show rooms, or at least what you think are the private show rooms.

The LED sign to those rooms read, "I PUT A SPELL ON YOU AND NOW YOU'RE MINE."

The general seating area for the main event reads VECNA’S LAIR.

The Dungeon Master of this joint thought of every possible detail he could and ironed it into perfection.

Surely, someone who truly plays would adore every aspect of all the details, but it was evident that everyone came here for the same reason:

Girls, girls, girls.

You walk over to the bar to see two men conversing behind it.

One looked to be in his late 20s, with scruffy chestnut brown hair, some tired eyes, peach fuzz, and a patterned shirt decorated in a kaleidoscope of colors — a shirt meticulously calculated by quite possibly a girlfriend.

The other looked like he had another year left before being allowed to be behind that counter... of course judging by the “Hawkins High School class of 2021” on his insulated water bottle in his hand, a cracked iPhone in the other, and Beats with a small basketball sticker on it.

When you appear in their periphery, the conversation between the two gradually comes to a stop.

“Whoa,” the younger man hums. “New face. Welcome.”

“Hi. What do you recommend?”

“In terms of what?” the younger man questions slyly. There’s a timidness to the young man’s spirit, making his flirtatious demeanor somewhat dorky. The age appropriate bartender nudges him.

“Drinks, hotshot,” you refrain from chuckling. “Drinks.”

“Depends what you’re into,” the younger man replies, the slyness continuing. “If you’re into light liquors, Jonathan can make you a mean Cîroc with pineapple juice. But if you’re more into the dark stuff…”

He gestures up and down on himself.

“Then look no further.”

“That was very painful to listen to,” the older one who you assume is Jonathan cringes. “Can you get anymore corny?”

“Ta-ha!” the younger one tsks. “He said could I get any more corny. Can you get any more bitchless?”

“I have a girlfriend, Lucas.”

“Emphasis on the singular sense.”

“Nance is all I need.”

"Nancy is all you can pull," Lucas chuckles. "With that goofy ass shirt, man. Stop playing with me."

So you weren’t the only one who thought the shirt was absolutely ridiculous. It had "Bad Bitch Repellant" written all over it.

Jonathan whacks Lucas with the cloth that was sitting atop his shoulder. You request a double Tito’s straight on the rocks from Jonathan to which he automatically starts to make. Lucas continues to interrogate you.

“As you heard, my name is Lucas. Lucas Sinclair.” He extends his hands to you. “But my favorite ladies call me 'Dark Chocolate'. You can call me, 'The Man of Your Dreams' though.”

You take the youngster’s hand in yours and shake it. His heavy locker room cologne makes your nose swell, an uneven mix of what you believe is Axe and — is that Dior?

You tell Lucas your name then hit him with a, “But you can call me ‘When You’re Thirty’.”

Lucas laughs at your joke, beaming up at you as he does so. Then he nods to communicate a gracious fair enough. The flirting, you could sense, was in good nature, playful.

“It was worth a shot,” he shrugs. “Do you have a younger sister by any chance?”

“Oh in your dreams, mister.”

Jonathan chuckles and rubs Lucas’s back.

"That’s enough man, can you go buss that table over there?"

Lucas gives a thumbs up before putting his Beats on and walking away. You divert your attention back to Jonathan who is now done with making your drink.

“Alright… I got a Tito’s double shot — straight — on the rocks,” Jonathan announces as he slides your vice on over. He studies you as you take the drink and request to keep the tab open. “I’m inclined to ask. Are you okay?”

When you’re not around Billy, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It wouldn’t hurt to trauma dump on a stranger. Especially one who asked.

“Pretty far from okay,” you answer before chugging it. “Can’t you tell? It’s 2PM and I’m consoling…” You slosh the drink around in your hand. “…my man Tito.”

“I see that.”

“It’s been a long day,” you continue. “It’s my second day in Hawkins so I thought I’d scope this place out. Dilly dally for a bit.”

“Second day?” Jonathan questions. “As in…ever?”

“Yeah, just moved here.”

The bartender looks around as if he’s missed something. “But…why?”

It’s a fair reaction. If the welcome sign is correct, Hawkins only has a population of 1,314 people. 1,316 now including you and Maxine.

“My friend lives here and convinced me to make the move,” is what you explain, though it only seems to make Jonathan more confused. “Couldn’t take the heat Cali was dishing out. Hawkins seemed like the perfect place to slow down.”

“Oh man,” Jonathan mutters. “California to here, what a change.”

“You lived here long?”

“Lived here my whole life,” he answers as a matter of factly.

“What made you get a job at Hellfire?”

Jonathan didn’t have to think. “I love booze.”

You laugh together, raising your half-empty class to clink his invisible one.

“I hate 9-5s,” Jonathan draws on. “Working from home ‘bout damn near drove me insane, don’t know how my mom does it with such ease. My boss here smokes me out on occasion and my friends make me nachos.” He smiles. “Can’t think of anything better.”

“There we go.”

"I’ve also just been looking out for women my whole life," he adds. "Bout time I get some financial compensation for it, no?"

“Amen to that,” You chug the last of your drink. “Thanks for your service.”

"Pleasure is mine. Anything else I can do for ya?"

You think. "Hm, probably not you, but maybe the hiring manager can do something for me."

"You're looking to work here?" he clarifies as you nod. "Oh sweet, you're going to wanna talk to Eddie. He's the owner."

"And a dweeb," says a significantly younger looking fellow as he slides into the conversation.

“Here we go.”

In front of you now is a gentleman around Lucas’s age with wild curly brown hair. You watch as he helps himself to a club soda, dunking three large wedges of lemon into his cup as well.

The guy offers you a playful, pearly white grin. “Eddie may own a nice club with some smokin' hot babes, but he's got no game whatsoever."

“Hey Dustin.”

“Sup, man.”

“You think so?" you challenge him.

"I know so,” the boy who you now know as Dustin insists. “Can't talk up a chick to save his life."

"Yeah," Jonathan says, half-jokingly. "He's the bitchless one."

Dustin glances between you both, slightly puzzled.

You shake your head. "No way."

"I wouldn't say he's that bad," Dustin says. "I actually think he's seeing someone casually. But in general, dude's got zero rizz."

"Projecting are we?" Jonathan nudges him.

“HELL. NO.” Dustin booms. You attempt to refrain from laughing. “My game is what got me the baddest gal at science camp. Eddie? Clumsy as hell, stutters on his words, he's got the anxiety level of someone who drinks cold brew on an empty stomach… Now that I say it out loud, I think he does drink cold brew on an empty stomach. Some chicks dig it though, which is good for him.”

Curly was fun to observe. Once he’s done talking down on the club owner, Dustin politely walks over and shakes your hand, bowing to you like you’re a princess of sorts. You later find it that like Lucas, Dustin works as a bus boy and server, and his girlfriend makes sure that he remains in Kas’ Korner at all times. Dustin has about two years left before legally being permitted behind the POTIONS bar, but that doesn’t stop him from using it as his own storage shed.

You watch as he grabs some deodorant and hair pomade from an old shoe box under the counter.

“Anyways, later,” Dustin holds up a peace sign, starting towards the door. “I'm not on today, I'm just hitting the gym with Steve."

“Later, man!” Jonathan calls after him.

“Deuces. Say hello to Dark Chocolate for me.”

Before he could get any further, the loud swinging of a door closeby causes him to halt in place.

“ALRIGHT!” a loud, gruff voice booms from that direction. “Which one of you shitheads forgot to take inventory on the 10th?!”

You can’t help but turn your body towards the ruckus. And to your own pleasant surprise, you don’t regret it. Emerging from the door comes the possible shift lead, a tall and broad man with medium length wavy brown hair, chocolate-colored, youthful doe eyes that contradicted the deep lines on his face, bleach white Chuck Taylor’s, ripped black jeans, and a Hellfire Club baseball tee with the logo smack-dab in the middle.

The man looked to be in his mid to late 20s, with an assertiveness in his stride. His lips, a perfectly formed bow with a smirk-like undertone. The cool rings that rest upon his fingers look icy as they sway at his side, shining in contrast to his dark clothing.

The man is too tunnel-visioned to see where he was going. But that doesn’t stop Dustin from looking absolutely mortified.

“The 10th and the 11th,” the man clarifies. “So for all we know, we might need new kegs and ground chili, which is one more thing I have to d-”

Finally he looks up, with you being the first thing he sees. Proximity taking him aback, he snaps out of his stress-induced trance and softens up at the sight of you. You meet his eyes, big and beautiful with long wispy lashes and you can’t help but mimic the flutter in your heart in the form of a smile.

“Whoa.” He says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Whoa, indeed.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s Eddie’s first day back, he tends to get a little in the zone,” Dustin explains.

Eddie.

Does that mean…

“Are you the hiring manager?”

You didn’t know who you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the man in front of you. He must be proud of himself, having such a successful business so early in the game.

Eddie gathers himself quickly.

“Dungeon Master, hiring manager, manager, owner, sanitations, re-stocker,” Mr. Jack-of-all-trades confirms. “I do it all.” He grimaces at Dustin. "Since you know, some people don't wanna work."

"You said I can have off!" Dustin exclaims defensively. "I worked for you before the weekend already and I wasn’t even on the 10th and 11th, fuck outta here."

All it takes is a scowl his way from the boss and Dustin is radio silent. The look on Eddie's face definitely said "Watch your tone". Eyes are all on you once more soon after.

Eddie’s gaze softens when he looks at you.

“Were you…looking to apply?”

“Yeah,” you reply sheepishly. “As a dancer. I’d like to perform here.”

“You don’t sound too confident.”

“Some guys like shy girls,” you shrug.

He laughs, a dark honey kind of laugh that just oozed from the back of his throat. “That they do.” His voice deepens drastically. Eddie studies you. “Any dancing experience?”

“Dancing, yes.”

“Stripping experience?”

“None.”

“Hm,” Eddie says. “What do you have experience in?”

“I danced for a bit…I have good core strength,” you explain vaguely. “And I’ve worked in the restaurant industry so I’d say customer service is my superpower.”

Eddie soaks in the information.

“I know how to talk to people,” you continue. “I know the right things to say. Favorite pass time is upselling drinks. And dessert…”

You wait for Eddie to take the low hanging fruit. He doesn’t.

"Any experience with the pole?”

Your cheeks grow hot. You decide to lie.

"No.”

“Kinda essential for this profession, sweetheart.”

"I know," you respond humbly. "I wouldn’t doubt it for a second..." you scan the room. “So uh, do I need a permit to perform here?”

“Nah, Hawkins is a lawless wasteland pretty much,” he sighs placing his hands on his hips. “And my club does things a little different anyways. The ladies also don’t pay to perform, we pay them to.”

Shit. Strippers pay to perform at venues?

“The dining experience is what brings the base revenue in,” Lucas explains, returning from wherever he had been. “The ladies are a luxury.”

“And should be treated as such,” Jonathan chimes in.

“I take it you don’t work at any other clubs?” Eddie questions judging by your wide eyes attempting to take in every bit of information that has been dumped on you. The man sees right through your mask.

“No, but I-”

“I personally like to give everyone a chance,” Eddie says. “So don’t worry babe, you’re good. Even though you don’t have any experience, your energy tells me that you have potential. Wanna show us what you can do?”

Your heart sinks. The handsome club owner called you babe. And you’re also being asked to perform with the little experience you have — in front of girls who had tons of experience.

“Here? Now?”

Eddie nods.

You weren’t prepared to dance today. But with your sister and the mountain of debt on your mind, you are willing to do anything. So you walk over to Jonathan and tell him what song you feel most comfortable performing to and stretch as he takes the time to find it. When all is said and done, you make your way to the icy pillar made of chrome steel that was calling for your attention.

You exhale deeply.

Back to the old stomping grounds. The last time you worked with a pole you were wearing Heeley’s and light up sneakers. Of course in place of the horny spectators there were playground supervisors, and the only “bars” there were monkey bars. Oh, and you were 8, not 28.

The slut-shaming still existed, though. One time a boy told you that you were acting like a ‘hoe’ for trying to do a trick upside down. To Billy’s retaliation though. Before you knew it, the same boy was being shoved down and dragged across the wood chips, acquiring a series of splinters along the way. Admin phoned home. You and Billy got spanked. But, of course, Billy had no regrets. While you both cooled off together, you remember him grazing your hand, telling you he’d beat that kid up “a gajillion times over”.

He kept that promise. Except as you two grew older, it was you he was doing it to. A gajillion times over.

You laugh at the bittersweet nostalgia.

“Whenever you’re ready, babe,” Eddie says.

You give Jonathan a thumbs up to play your song selection. Soon, Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club is filled with the catchy, seductive tune that is Layla by Eric Clapton.

You start with a small stroll around the pole. Then a dramatic dip to flaunt your bouncy golden locks. Soon, the women of Hellfire gather around with the men following soon after to watch you work your magic in Vecna’s crowded Lair.

If muscle memory is in your favor, they are in for a good show.

What will you do when you get lonely

No one waiting by your side?

You've been running, hiding much too long

You know it's just your foolish pride

Eddie claims a seat at a throne directly in front of the pole. He studies your technique, your movements, your facial expressions. You aren’t sure if reality is projecting onto you or if you’re dizzy from all the spinning, but you almost see a slight smile spread across the club owner’s face. It prompts you to keep going.

Layla, got me on my knees

Layla, begging, darling, please Layla

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

It’s a lot harder, your techniques and tricks. Most likely since you weigh more than 50 pounds now and had to exert more energy to keep yourself balanced an aligned. But nonetheless, you persist.

Tried to give you consolation

Your old man had let you down

Like a fool, I fell in love with you

You turned my whole world upside down

You buck your hips upward from you back arch to go into an upside down position. It earns you some hooting and cheering from the crowd.

“You better work, mamas!” a dancer cheers.

“I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT!”

“YOU GO GIRL!”

“YAAAS!”

Layla, got me on my knees

Layla, I'm begging, darling, please Layla

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

Eddie watches intently, leaning backwards with his hands clasped forward. You feel his eyes burn through you, from the top of your head down to your toes. You feel as if he’s mentally scoring you like you’re at a competition, but the sisterhood that cheers you on makes you feel slightly less intimidated.

“SHE’S SO GOOD!” comes a high-pitched voice in the crowd. “I FREAKING LOVE HER!”

You turn to look at your own personal cheerleader, a bright-eyed cute little redhead with pigtails with an outfit that looks like an ode to Britney Spears’ “Hit Me Baby One More Time”. She has cherry hair ties that hold her two pigtails at the bottom.

You watch her clap and jump up and down, cheering you on with a beam in her eyes that made you feel like your souls have been friends for decades.

Motivated to attempt more risqué moves, you jump into the splits before kicking your legs around to end on your knees.

Clapping and whistling erupts from the lair. Once it dies down, Eddie stands up, offering you a delighted series of slow claps as he makes his way towards you.

"That was really good, Shy Girl. I like how you finished your set."

“Aw, thanks Eddie.”

He walks around you.

"Go like this?" Eddie does a stretching motion, lifting his hand up.

You imitate him and reach up.

"Okay, and... turn like this? Then pop your ass out a bit more."

The word rolled off the club owner's tongue like it was nothing. It was done in a way that was professional, a hint of respect in his tone with no sort of ulterior motive.

You swallow hard, attempting to internally tame the goosebumps on rising upon your skin. He’s just giving feedback, he’s just giving feedback. This is a professional line of work.

You do as he says as he circles around you, fingers grazing on the cool floor of the stage just inches away from your thighs. He taps them in thought.

"For a beginner you’re pretty damn good,” he says.

“Yeah?” you look up at him and smile.

“Yeah,” his voice deepens. “You’re a natural. All that shyness just went away.”

Well, it’s about to return, you think to yourself.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“Not in this specific setting.”

There’s a slight shift in his eyes as his imagination wanders. The dimples at the side of his mouth concave slightly.

“I gotcha.”

Eddie clears his throat. “So uh, when can you start?”

Today is Wednesday. You have tomorrow, Friday, and the weekend to settle you and Max in and make any last minute stops. Then the appointment with the other loan officer and DMV appointment on Monday. Tuesday afternoons are dry — everywhere so that left the earliest you can start as

"Next Tuesday? In the evening?"

A soft snort escapes from the club owner’s nose.

"Driest night of the week," he comments, looking around his club.

He turns back to you.

"But a good time for orientation. Works for me, Shy Girl. Can I call you that?”

You smirk. “So I got the job?”

He nods.

“Then you can call me what you want,” you smile shaking his hand. “In this case I’m Shy Girl Hargrove.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiles. He knows you’re flirting. Eddie accepts your hand and shakes it firmly.

“Eddie. Pleased to formally meet you. And welcome to Hellfire.”

You two exchange contact information for professional purposes before he leaves. You study Eddie as he sees himself out, planting a firm, teasing smack on Lucas’s stomach on his way and whispering something to Jonathan as well.

Your cheerleader from the crowd excitedly makes her way over.

“I know a dancer slash gymnast when I see one,” she chirps. “I’m Chrissy. Stage name is Cherry.”

You two shake hands and exchange further compliments with one another. Your heart swells when you realize you’re slowly starting to find community.

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

Others come and say hello, but you’ve tuned out all the faces because all you can think about is Eddie. His demeanor. The way he carries himself. His presence alone was something so intoxicating that it lingered around the place in his absence.

Your heart flutters.

“Oh, Hargrove!” Jonathan says. “Before you go I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to worry about the drink.”

“Oh?” you respond. “No?”

“Eddie says it’s on the house.”

You smile and Jonathan returns the favor, making sure you see him when he voids your entire tab. As you wave bye to all your spectators, you release a grateful sigh. You felt very humbled about this new, yet unexpected beginning.

The happiness soon wears off when the events that just unfolded dawn on you. Suddenly, the flutter in your heart moves to your stomach, settling in a way that feels eerie. The unknown is pestering you again. Wrong, but oh so right and necessary.

You take in the area around you. You have a place to call home. You’re a stripper now. Your boss just bought your drink. You’re going to have money coming in. Oh, and YOU’RE A STRIPPER NOW.

Then it dawns on you. You need to go shopping.

[givethemsmut]

Cody Rhodes x Reader

Made of Gold | Chapter One

Summary

I was hellbent on finding love in all the wrong places when I tripped over the one person who wasn't buying the rebellion act.

He saw right through me...

Details

Cody Rhodes X Reader

Enemies-to-Lovers

Age Gap (taboo)

18+ (Trigger Warner applies)

WWE mixed with real life

I don’t own WWE characters, IFKYK, etc.

Tons of Smut

Waiting on the side of the road for my bestfriend I knew tonight wouldn't be any different than any other night. We were walking, talking, trouble.

We both would escape our ivory towers where we were forced to wear uniforms to school and behave like the young ladies our parents believed us to be. Together we would sneak into bars and clubs just to get a taste of freedom. Something we weren't going to have until we turned eighteen and left our toxic mansions behind.

Yardbird was a popular bar in Georgia, full of cigar smoke and people trying to feel more important than we actually were. Everything was leather, broken in and full of sin. There were privacy greens and a giant bar. Getting in was easy but not getting thrown out was our problem.

Slipping inside past the security guard that my fellow wild child had fucked made it easy. Our pinkies lacked around each other’s before we grin in each other’s direction. This was where we parted way, making our own trouble, finding someone to love us the way privilege didn’t.

The only difference between us was I was a virgin who liked the chase more than the end game.

Standing at the bar, I ordered myself a vodka soda with cranberry and watched the bartender’s eyes shift down my body strategically.

My cleavage was on display in a low cut bodysuit and my tight black jeans showing off the curves I had. It wasn’t much but I had a butt that sat high and taunt.

“Drink is on me, beautiful.” Laying it on thick, I smiled back but I wasn’t willing to settle.

I had a little game with myself, I would scan the bar and look for the one person I knew would be hard to get and that was my target.

He was blonde, not naturally but bleached, toned muscles that resembled a Greek God instead of a muscle head, surrounded by friends, and I knew I had to have him. He wasn’t flirting with girls or even looking. I wanted the one person who didn’t want to be wanted.

Twisting towards the second bartender I whispered loud enough to hear over the music. “Who is that? People are starring.”

“Cody Rhodes, signed to WWE. They’re celebrating. Wanna send over a drink?”

Bless bartenders for their bad ideas that sound so good when you’re desperate for it to go your way. “Bottle of your best tequila.”

His eyes widened, “That’s $300, easy.”

Slapping my black card on the bar top he suddenly had no more questions. My privlage came with funds, it was the least they could have done.

I sat at the end of the bar, watching him deliver the expensive bottle and point to me at the bar specifically. Ignoring the credit I waited for Cody to swoop over when I saw him out of the corner of my eye.

Setting the heavy bottle down his voice felt like an old song you vaguely remember. “I can’t accept this. It’s an expensive bottle but thank you.”

“I heard you were celebrating. It’s not a big deal, keep it. You deserve it.” I smiled sweetly, pushing the bottle closer to him.

His blue eyes sparkled in the dim light and I felt myself swoon when he leaned into me, “You look a little young to be here. Stay out of trouble.”

He completely chalked me up to a child when he took the bottle back to his table, dismissing any flirting and nothing pissed me off more. No one ever asked me my age before, let alone cared. The fact that he cared about me being too young to be chewed up by the men here only made me want him more.

That’s when I knew if I wanted him I had to get his friend’s attention. It wasn’t hard when Layla and I started dancing together, holding our second drinks, and swaying our hips against each other. There wasn’t really a dance floor at this kind of bar but we made one anyways.

After the song ended, we took a seat at the bar, just waiting for them to bit the way they always did.

My second drink in I could feel the buzz working its way up my body, starting a small fire inside my stomach when one of his buff friends stood next to me. “Another drink of whatever she is having.” Pausing, he looked down at me from his tall height, “Absolutely beautiful”

Offering a smile you couldn’t resist I twisted in my seat, my legs colliding with his and his hand slipping up the outside of my thigh.

I let my eyes look around him, trying to find Cody, and see if he was watching. Coming up empty I slipped off the barstool, my ass pressed against his crotch and grabbing my leather jacket on the back of the stool.

Cody was sitting a few seats down, surrounded by friends, when I noticed his eyes glued to me. Giving him a mischievous smile, I spoke to his friends even tho my eyes were locked with Cody’s. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

Standing up when he heard my words, I tried not to look accomplished when he stomped over to me. “Austin, a word.”

“Seriously, dude? I’m a little busy right now.”

He looked right at me, “She’s under age. You’re stupid but not that stupid.”

His friend was too drunk to even care. “It’s one night, bro. Don’t worry so much.”

The weight of his arm slung around my neck felt like a work out when he started to lead us to the door. Cody’s hand on his shoulder stopped us again, “See the blonde at the end of the bar? All yours. She’s already primed. This one is mine. Throwing his hands up like Cody’s word was law he moved on without so much as an apology. “Where do you live? I’m getting you an Uber.”

“No, thanks. I’m having too much fun ruffling your feathers,” I said before shooting back another shot. I was way more tipsy than I had ever been before and trouble felt a lot more dangerous with Cody’s hand around my arm. “I saw you watching me.”

“More like protecting you. These guys aren’t boyfriend material. How old are you anyways?”

“Keep it down, buzzkill.” He dragged me to the side of the bar where the entrance to the bathroom was hidden. It was perfect place to not be seen. Pushing me against the wall, he crowded me, our bodies almost touching. “No one is looking for a boyfriend,” I snapped back.

“How old are you?” He asked again.

“Almost legal. A few months away doesn’t change how tight my pussy is.”

I watched his throat bob with a hard swallow. “Not my type, I prefer legal.”

“Then why were you watching me all night?” The shots were half the reason for my sharp tongue when I kept poking the bear.

“Because I feel bad for you. I used to be you. Fighting against all the privilege just to make them pay attention more. Hoping a string of wrong guys pisses them off so you choose to be a slut. Am I close?”

Chewed up and spit out the same way he claimed to be protecting me from.

“You’re an asshole,” I wanted it to hurt but I knew it didn’t hurt as much as his words. Pushing past him, I didn’t even look back as the sting of failure settled in.

The cold air of evening hit my face but it wasn’t enough to sober me up. The bell above the door chimed when I looked over my shoulder to see Cody bringing me my leather jacket. “Let me take you home at least.”

I knew there was a sliver of hope and the liquid courage was only cheering me on to make bad decisions. “I’m the F150 across the street.”

Cody’s big ass truck sat along the curb all murdered out, completely black on black. Opening the door for me I climbed in thankful I was wearing pants tonight otherwise everyone would have gotten a show.

My hand found its way to his thigh and I watched his head drop forward in frustration. “I’m just driving you home. That’s all.”

“What if I’m already a slut? What if you aren’t the only older guy I’ve been with?” My hand didn’t leave his thigh, sneaking high and high while he drove.

“Doubtful. What are you, in high school? Why don’t you find yourself a jock boyfriend?”

I sighed loudly, taking my hand back, “Not my type. The next hotel is fine.”

I knew I couldn’t go home like this and I was used to crashing at hotels instead of going home. Every weekend was a blur of mistakes and men that I would never follow through with. I would get right up to the line only to call it a night.

“Hotel? I’m not leaving you in a hotel. I might as well let Austin take you back to his place then.”

“Maybe you should have. I’m not going home wasted, hard pass. It’s either your place or hotel.” I said sternly while gazing out the window.

Making a hard U-turn against the gravel he headed the opposite direction. “I’m not fucking you. Let’s make that clear right now. I’m not leaving you at a hotel to get date raped by some perv.”

“You sound like a lot of fun…” Sarcasm dripped from my mouth as he kept driving towards his home. Once we finally got there he parked in the driveway of a cute house with brick accents and a big yard. Rounding the car he opened the door for me and helped me down like a gentleman. Something about him didn’t just make my panties wet but my heart speed up.

“Welcome to my house. There’s some guest rooms you can use for the night or the couch if you prefer.” Unlocking the door I walked into a complete bachelor pad full of wrestling memorabilia, family photos framed on the walls, and minimal decor the way a woman’s touch provides.

Dropping my bag on the kitchen island I slipped my jacket off. “Can I barrow a shirt?” I bridged the gap between us and my hand pulled his shirt like I wanted his.

Leaning into me, his mouth found my ear and he whispered, “Nice try but you’re not going to break me. I can control myself.”

Rolling my eyes I sighed internally, annoyed more than ever. He left me there to go grab a shirt when I twirled around aimlessly, snooping, taking in his home until I ventured up the stairs.

Catching a glimpse of Cody, adjusting his fresh sweatpants and still shirtless. I wanted to watch but the other part of me wanted to crawl into his bed. Leaning against the door frame I scared him, making him jump, “Jesus, you’re practically perfect. You said I reminded you of yourself. What does that mean?”

His square jaw tensed and his baby blues seemed cloudy, “Yeah, the pressure of a successful family. To be like them, to bee perfect, to make a name for yourself but don’t forget you’re a legacy. The way they want to take credit for who you are but not actually raise you. My father is a legend in WWE and so is my brother… believe it or not, I know exactly why you’re acting out.”

Tossing me a fresh shirt I caught it, walking over to the bed I pulled my phone from my back pocket and pushed my jeans down my legs. My thong only flattered my curves more when he turned around quickly. Not wearing a bra, I unclasped the bodysuit and pulled it off down my legs exposing my c-cup breasts. “I just want to forget, pretend a hotel is my home, be free.”

“Few months, right? You will be.” He peeked, peeling his eyes open to check I was wearing his shirt.

I sat on the end of his bed, opening my legs and hoping it was enough to finally break him when he sauntered over to me. “Even if you were twenty three like me, I still wouldn’t fuck you the way you want. I only fuck girls who leave in the morning and your father would probably love me. I’m bad for your plan to piss them off.”

“Suit yourself, Cody.” My hands pressed against his chest, “It’s not everyday you get to deflower a virgin.”

Leaving his room I stopped on the stairs when I heard him muffle a groan. Smiling to myself I skipped down the stairs and crashed on his couch. I expected him to be up before me but maybe he was simply sleeping in when I decided to let my hand trail down my stomach to the front of my panties.

I had the wildest dream last night, soaking my panties and I couldn’t help but touch myself. I was beyond ready to ditch the virginity but not for anyone, I was Hellbent on Cody now.

His brown leather couch engulfed me, sitting in with my fingers teasing my clit through my panties. A soft moan escaped my lips and my hips chased my fingers even more. I didn’t even hear the door close when Cody walked into the open concept space.

“Whoa. Fuck.” He stopped with a scuff of his sneakers and I had to get my breathing under control. “Are you trying to kill me? Do you know how fucking hard it is to sleep upstairs knowing you’re down here in a fucking thong and my shirt and not fuck you? I have a contract to think about, not going to jail for fucking someone in high school.”

Peering above the back of the couch, I watched Cody brace the kitchen island and let his head hang. “Six months until I’m eighteen doesn’t change anything. I’m not miraculously a different person. All it means is I’m horny as fuck.”

Just starring at me he cleared his throat. “Please put your panties back on so I can take you home.”

Slipping my panties off I fingered the string, draping it over his shoulder. “Protecting me from you isn’t going to protect me from fucking anyone else. Don’t worry, I called an Uber already.”

Pulling my jeans on without my panties, stepping into my heels, and grabbing my stuff I headed outside to flag an Uber down I hadn’t called yet.

I started walking while I waited, avoiding standing in his driveway, and all I could think about was Cody half naked. All I wanted to do was lick every muscle on his body. He could say no now but he wasn’t going to say no forever.

[writing-heiress]

The Carnival of Sweets

Twisted From: The Cookie Carnival

Event Cards - "Sweetness Ensemble": SSR: Trey, Vil, Freya | SR: Riddle, Deuce, Isabelle, Luxolite, Vincent | R: Epel, Ace, Kalim, Grim, Kushi

New Characters Introduction: Trinity & Tristan Clover

Summary: The Sweets Fair is back in town, but this year is different as there is a rumored special prize for this year's winner: the Sweet Queen. It's anyone's game this year around.

Tags: @adrianasunderworld @mangacupcake @liviavanrouge @fair-night-starry-tears @queen-of-twisted @boopshoops @the-trinket-witch @the-weirdos-mind @starry-night-rose @achy-boo @tragedytells-tales @yumeko2sevilla @yukii0nna @zexal-club @ice-cweam-sod4 @dulcisregnumdorm @abyssthing198

The Sweets Fair is an annual fair that takes places the first week of spring. It was made to honor the Queen of Cookies and the heartwarming story of how her lover helped her become the Queen and soon became the King as thanks.

The Sweets Fair alternates between Sage's Island and Queendom of Roses. Sage's Island because it was the homeplace of the Queen and the first ever Sweets Fair & Queendom of Roses because a Queen at the time who had a sweet tooth, had it alternate to the Queendom for better access.

The story begins with the first years walking down a hallway where they see Trey getting off the phone with his dad. Deuce asked what the call was about and his vice dorm leader answered back that it was about his family's booth for the Sweets Fair. This got most of the first years excited, but Yuu, Grim, & Jack were rather clueless on the Sweets Fair, so Trey and Deuce explained both the backstory and what goes on at the fair, including games, rides, booths, and the parade at the end.

Trey added on by talking about how the Sweets Fair is one of the most profitable events for his family's bakery and only grows more popular every year. Epel also stated that some folks back in Harveston due to their desserts and candies.

Grim, of course, is more excited over the parade and (hopefully) free sweets. Ace said that to be part of the parade, you would have to be wearing something sweets-themed. Which is a problem for Yuu and Grim, who have zero clothes outside of their uniform and gifted clothes from Crewel. Grim lamented for the rest of the day, especially during Alchemy where he casually wishes for Crewel to help with their clothes. Crewel, hearing this, got an idea. He asked the Ramshackle duo to stay behind after class.

Their homeroom professor asked if they truly wanted to be part of the Sweets Fair Parade to which he smiled and said that he'll help them with their outfit. Not only that, but Vil happened to be passing by when he heard Crewel and decided to help him out with Yuu and Grim. Enter Twistune Here.

The first day of the Sweets Fair, the Ramshackle duo head down to the island town alongside Ace and Deuce. They quickly began to explore the fairgrounds. Soon enough, they ran into Trey's family bakery booth where they got to meet Trey's parents and Riddle, who was there to mainly apologize for what his mother did all those years ago. Not only did the Clovers accept his apology, but also assured him that he was not at fault for what happened for wanting to be a child.

Grim ruins the moment by stuffing a bunch of Clover free samples into his mouth. Trey, of course, shooed him away while his siblings began to gush how cute Grim was, ensuing quite the chase. Enter Twistune Here.

At the end of the day, the people running the fair said that they will announce this year's Sweets Fair's Queen the next day. The next day, the announcers proclaimed that the Sweet Fair's Queen for that year is none other than Yuu! With that announcement, Yuu and Grim were escorted to a pastel sweet carriage where they could wave at everyone.

They finally reached their destination: where all the parade floats are being made. As the Queen, their float is already made and ready to go, but they can still interact with the other float builders, like Riddle and Epel, the latter using this to give away his family's apples as a promotion. They asked if Yuu wanted to help, to which they and Grim agreed to help (Grim only wanted some Felmier apples in exchange). Enter Twistune Here. At first unaware that many were taking pictures of Yuu helping out. This went on up until the magazine people asked for a photoshoot with Yuu and Grim. Enter Twistune Here.

Before the day ended, they told Yuu that the next few days will be spent them picking their King while still having fun around the fair. The King can be any of the others who are already dressed or a special guest that they had planned. Enter Multiple Twistunes Here.

By the third day of choosing (or fifth day of the fair), Yuu simply couldn't chose a King for themselves, thus leaving only the special guest to be their King. And who is the special guest? Vil fucking Schoenheit dressed up in a sweets-themed royalty-like outfit. After a few photoshoots with their new King, the day ended with the promise of various photo ops and photoshoots with the Sweet Queen and King the next day.

Next day, Vil actually waits at the entrance in order to escort Yuu into the fair together. Together they had several photos with just themselves or people attending the fair. Enter Twistune Here. Vil and Yuu did have a mini dance lesson as they would have to dance a bit while on their float.

The day come for the parade to take place. All the floats have a final check up before they come out. Because they were the King and Queen, Vil & Yuu's float is the last one, thus ending then parade and the fair in go. Enter Final Twistune Here.

[jesswritesthat]

Iwaizumi Hajime: Brothers’ Best Friend

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: 2.5k, fluff

• It can be hard when you catch feelings for your brother best friend, but the least you can do is be mature about it and turn it into a game.

Warnings: a few insults

>>>>——————————>

Iwaizumi Hajime had been 5 things to you over the years, some you'd regretted, many you'd denied, but there's 1 he'd finally accept.

———

He was your ‘brothers’ best friend.

Even from a young age, Iwaizumi Hajime had always captured your interest - most would often sway towards Oikawa but considering he was your older brother figure as your families were quite close, you saw quite enough of him already.

To anyone, your favouritism was evident, including to Oikawas' parents who regularly took you to collect Tōru from his Volleyball club practices.

Gingerly you walked past the child players who varied in height but were all taller than you, some recognising you and side stepping so you could locate your targets faster.

All while Tōrus older sister filmed the humorous ritual. You strolled toward the familiar pair, Oikawa immediely breaking into a blinding smile and picking you up with a prideful greeting. Iwaizumi halted beside his partner whilst he lifted you (there was only 2 years between you but at this age you'd yet to grow).

However, it was not your brother you wanted - no, he held you in his arms only for you pout and kick in his grasp.

Adhering to his childish personality, the cute Setter scoffed whilst mumbling curses as he passed you to his best friend who had his arms open already, used to this familiar favouritism behaviour - a smug look sent to his partner as you settled immediately with a content grin.

Happily you allowed Hajime to manoeuvre you to a piggy back position and carry you over to your amused family.

"This'll be good blackmail in the future y'know, I think for all of you~" Tōrus sister finally pressing stop on the recording, you supposed that at her age she had it out for her 'siblings'.

———

He was a crush.

A phase you'd told yourself, just some ridiculous school girl crush that'd pass eventually because above all else, he was a good friend.

"Hi (Y/n), Iwaizumi is here y'know." Oikawas sister said it with a playful mirth to her silky tone, knowing smirk situated on her face upon seeing you light up.

"Iwa?! Really~"

"That's the guy you talk about, on the high school team with your 'brother' right?"

"Yes! You have to me him -them- c'mon." Eagerly you dragged your friend into the kitchen where the two volleyball players were conversing.

"Hey guys."

"Awh! Chibi-chan, did you miss me? I know I'm amaz—"

Fluently you ducked under his open arms, flying straight into the unsuspecting but easily prepared Iwaizumi who only groaned in reply.

"Tch, not as amazing as Iwa-chan apparently."

"You've grown (Y/n), and who’s your friend?"

"Yeah, that's how life generally works Iwaizumi, oh and this Yuki."

"Nice to meet you. Oi, careful, you sound like Crappykawa and one of those is enough thanks." Iwaizumi chided after introductions, leaving you shaking your head but excited to ask your next question.

"How was the game? God I can't wait to start Aobajohsai next year! I'll finally be able to watch you guys for real."

"We won 2-0. Next year you can come to our practices too. We still need a manager and since Crappykawa is going to be Captain, he might put in a good word."

"Not likely, especially since you'll take Iwas' side in everything." Oikawa sneakily replied, giving you a childish face which you naturally returned.

"That's because he's usually right Tōru."

Once finishing your conversation, you left for your own home like originally planned with Yuki, also glad she’d finally met the two most important people in your life.

“Wow, you’re big brother figure is really good looking~”

“Ew no, did you even meet Iwaizumi? He’s so cool, he’s the arm wrestling champion at Aobajohsai.”

“You know we don’t stand a chance, they’ll be thirds years whilst we’re first years.” She’d awkwardly added, but you remained charismatically confident.

“You’re not thinking ahead, I’ll have a chance one day but until then there’s a bunch of cute guys in our year.”

“Yes, speaking of, I finally got the courage to speak to Tadashi-kun today~”

———

He was a protector.

"Back. Off." Every word was deadly punctuated, standing as a warning all on their own without needed the back up of Iwaizumis dangerous glare.

"Who are you?!" The pestered had glowered, having followed you from your friends’ party that night.

"Take another step and you'll find out."

"Iwaizumi, it's fine— I can handle this." You had every intention to, but Iwaizumi stood protectively in front of you and fingers twitching to punch this scoundrel if he dared make a move to touch you, it was best to leave it.

"Whatever.” Then he was gone, storming off in the other direction much to your joint relief.

“(Y/n) you need to be more careful.”

“I was careful! That’s why I messaged Oikawa the second I noticed him following me.” Hold on, why the hell was Iwaizumi here then?

“Creeps will target students walking alone, especially ones like you.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m not and idiot an— what do you mean ‘like me’?”

“What? You’re, y’know— you’re ours!” He seemed stifled by his response but he couldn’t exactly tell you it’s because you were considered attractive.

"You can stop treating me like a baby, I'm 16 Hajime! I can take care of myself, besides..." There was brief hesitation but your emotions were too strong. "I need to get used to you and Tōru not being around, don't I?"

It was a low blow, you knew that, but had every right to be angry at both the world and him, especially with that bubbling feeling of betrayal being so fresh.

"What? So protecting you suddenly means I'm treating you like a child?"

"What else would it be?" You bit back again, knowing by this point you were only being hurtful.

"That I—" A pause.

"That I care about you dumbass, is that so hard to believe? I know you're growing up but that doesn't mean me -or Tōru- are gonna stop looking out for you just because we're on the other side of the world."

"Sure it doesn’t, I'm going home." Despite his words being full of honesty, you turned your back on him and started walking.

"I'll walk you."

"No, I'll walk myself thanks."

"It wasn't a request."

Eventually you arrived at Oikawas’ house, storming in and ditching your shoes in his porch - the pretty brunette heaving a knowing sigh. Oikawa would give you a minute, Iwa having now walked into the house moments after without a word, and that’s when Oikawa followed your path and hesitantly knocked on his own bedroom door for entry.

"Don't be mad at Iwa-chan."

"Yeah yeah 'he's only trying to look out for you' and 'Hajime is protective over people close to him', heard it all before Tōru." Came your muffled reply, face hidden in your arms on the setters bed.

"...Guess you have but uh, this is different."

"Tch."

"It's because he's going to miss you, our Ace won't ever admit that but it's true. Not seeing you and dealing with our chaos all the time will be weird for him. You were near the top of his list to tell once he’d made his decision about California y'know?" Tōru sat tentatively beside you, a reassuring hand patting your back in aid of comforting you.

"Doesn't make it hurt any less, finding out I'm not only losing my big brother but his best friend too."

"You're more upset about me though right?" There was a preganant pause, quite honestly you weren't exactly listening but it was enough for Oikawa to sit abruptly from the bed. "Right?!"

"Tōru!"

"Fine fine, I'm taking that as a yes, but anyway, Iwa-chan just wants to make sure you're gonna be okay in life before he leaves (Y/n)."

There was another silence, a quiet sob escaping you that you’d desperately tried to cover up.

"…Where were you? I needed you Tōru and you weren’t there…"

You felt him cease up, the pain laced your voice and he knew it was partly because it’ll be this way for the foreseeable future, but this time wasn’t his fault.

“Iwa-chan was here when I got your message, he was out the house before I could even put my shoes on. So I waited here for when you came back.” They really were the best team. “Anyway, I’ll prepare my sisters old room for you to stay tonight.”

Awkwardly you shuffled into the kitchen, finding the Ace situated at the table, already changed into a t-shirt and joggers he had here and tiredly brooding over some freshly made tea.

"Hey..." The quietened whisper from your lips surprised even you, let alone Hajime who looked up from his cup with a softening frown.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I um, I wanted to apologise. You were only trying to help and you even walked me home after I was a crappy friend so..."

"Anytime." There was a hanging silence again, hugging yourself a bit before the brunette awkwardly cleared his throat. "I uh, I understand you were upset, and butting in on the situation probably wasn't necessary so I'm sorry too. It just pissed me off."

"We're good then?"

"Yeah, we're good."

Pausing at the entrance, you sighed quietly - bare feet quickly tapping on the floor and before Hajime could check the origin you'd engulfed him from behind, arms wrapped around his chest and nose buried in the nape of his neck.

"I'll miss you too Hajime."

You heard his breath hitch, muscles tensing under your touch and tentative fingers gracing your own with a gently sigh.

Then you pulled away slightly, the same moment he'd looked back to you, gazes meeting for only a few sacred seconds like sharing a thousand words. Softly you smiled, both of you laughing as your fingers slipped from his figure and you'd walked back to the guest room. Only to find Oikawa sat expectantly on the bed waiting for you.

"You tell him?"

"Not quite. But I said enough."

———

He was a traitor.

Not a phase. It must be a familiarity thing then, Hajime had always been present in your life since you could remember. There wasn't a prolonged period of time when he hadn't been involved - at school, at home, with Oikawa, even on vacations, or via social media.

Maybe once he'd left, once he was no longer around, the constant familiarity wouldn't influence your feelings anymore.

For now though, when you were gifted a moment alone with him that’d likely be your last, you decided it couldn’t hurt to express your feelings. Calmly and nonchalantly.

"I like you Hajime."

"I like you too (Y/n)." He paused, soft and sentimental smile gracing his lips briefly as if resenting his next words. "But you know there's the age thing."

"I know, but I'm in it for the long game."

You could tell your confident statement caught him off guard, yes Iwaizumi knew the topic of conversation was to be handled with care but that didn’t mean he wasn’t perplexed by you.

"I don't want you to wait for me or anything, considering I'm heading to California."

"I had no intention of waiting, our paths will cross again. It's nice knowing you're out there, I'm out there, and we both know. That's enough." You shrugged, leaning back far too casually for the situation.

"Knowing we're both out in the world, I can play along with that."

"Besides, I'll win in the end Hajime."

"Oh yeah? What makes you so sure."

There was a playful smirk on your lips as you sat up a little straighter, hands clasped and head tilted in curiosity. "Well, date me now?"

"No way."

"Okay, then date me later?"

"..." Despite his snapping reply earlier, he now furrowed his brows in thought. "You don't even know what we'll being doing in the future."

"You're not saying no."

"..." A flicker of realisation when meeting your competitive gaze.

"See." You smirked. "That's what makes so sure."

"The long game huh?" Iwaizumi smiled "Count me in."

Oikawa joined you both then, stepping out onto the field and standing before your sitting figures.

"I'm still going to hate you though." A playful punch hitting Iwaizumis’ shoulder as you rose to your feet. "For leaving. I can't hide those feelings very well."

"I know, and it's okay. Hate me for as long as you need to."

“You two done? Let’s go~”

However it was the text later that night which left you more confused than ever.

[ Iwa: Finally. ]

[ (Y/n): Huh? ]

[ Iwa: I didn't give you an answer earlier, so that's it. ]

[ Iwa: Date you finally. ]

[ (Y/n): What does that mean? Eventually??? Later??? Iwaaaaa!!!! 😭 ]

[ Iwa: You're playing the long game remember?  So you'll just have to wait I guess. Anyways tell Shittykawa he better be up early tomorrow, night (Y/n) x ]

[ (Y/n): Tōrus' right, you are mean! 💀 ]

———

He was a friend.

"Someone grew up good." Iwaizumi nodded to you in greeting when you’d shown up to Oikawas’ family home, yourself gladly embracing the former traitor.

"Iwa-chan! That's my little chibi-chan!" Oikawa was quick to chastise, even at your expense.

"Tōru I'm not so little anymore, I'm a grown assed human with a job and rent for crying out loud!"

"With a petty attitude to boot." Oikawa mocked, sticking his tongue at you like you were children again.

"Wonder who they got that from Crappykawa?"

"How dare you compare me to him Iwaizumi?! That's it, we're enemies now - prepare to lose."

"I just got back from California, can't we do things normally for once? Like unpack, then celebrate my graduation by going out for dinner together like old times?"

Yourself and Oikawa looked at each other with offended expressions, mirroring smirks etching onto your lips once you'd set your attention back on an irritated Iwa.

"Nope!" You devilishly grinned, Oikawa already holding up Mario Kart controllers as he finished off.

"We're going to my place to have a tournament, loser buys dinner!"

"Idiots."

“Woah, us ‘idiots’ threw you a graduation party. We’re the best friends ever, you should be thanking rather than insulting us y’know.” Oikawa pointedly corrected referring to the destination later tonight.

“Yeah, when Tōru got back from the airport, we even tried making you a cake!”

“Guys… thanks so much…”

“Iwa-chan, congratulations on your graduation.” Tōru proudly cemented, next you gladly followed. “And welcome home.”

———

He was the love of your life.

It was a beautiful summers night in Tokyo, and you'd come to congratulate Iwaizumi on his recent job offer as the Japanese Olympic Volleyball Teams fitness trainer.

You didn't think you'd be sitting beside him staring up at the stars though, a blissful warm breeze allowing you to truly feel the moment.

It seemed Iwaizumi was the same, content smile upon his face.

"It's nice to see you (Y/n), I'm glad you made it."

"Well it's easier when you don't have to catch a flight from the other side of the world." It was evident to whom you’d referred, his absence always being felt in some way.

"Heh, yeah I got to speak to him over video chat though."

"Ugh that means he didn't get the slaps he deserves." Was your witty reply, Iwaizumi laughing alongside you.

"Nah, but don't worry I managed to scold him for anything ridiculous he came out with."

"Like beating everyone?"

"Exactly. With the team I'm gonna train, I'll kick his ass." It amazed you, that even as best friends their rivalry continued into adulthood.

"I hope you both do well Hajime."

"Hm, I hope Japan and Argentina get to face one another most of all."

"You miss him."

"Yeah." A sentimental smile and Iwa turned to you. "And I miss you too."

The atmosphere once again settled into that of comfortable tranquility. You supposed there was only one last thing to say then.

"Well Iwaizumi Hajime, I have one last question for you tonight."

"I know, you've been waiting. So go ahead." It was a challenge, the brunette facing you with an expectant smirk that matched your own.

"Date me now?"

"Don't you remember? I said date you, finally."

"Finally?" You mimicked again, still not knowing what he’d meant by that phrase.

"Guess the long game is over now huh?" Iwaizumi shrugged nonchalantly, despite his mocking tone which only left you sarcastically retorting.

"Shut up asshole."

"It meant, I may not have been your first love (Y/n), but I have every intention of being your last." His sentiment surprised you, especially if this is the thought he had when typing that text all those years ago. "If that's okay with you obviously."

"It is Hajime, then it's your call."

"(Y/n), will you finally go on a date with me?"

"No." You'd said it proudly, Hajime only knowingly smirking. "You don't get to take the victory lap now. This is my game, and I asked you first. You owe me an answer."

"Ah man, it was worth a shot but the only true loss here is missing the chance to be with you so yeah."

"Don't get all sappy on me Hajime! It doesn't suit you."

"Hey! I said I'd date you (Y/n), aren't I supposed to be a little sentimental with that." Though he seemed confident, Iwaizumi hadn’t hidden his blush very well.

"You might want to make another call to Oikawa, I'm sure dating his 'Chibi-chan' will have him back here in no time. Don't you need his permission huh?"

"Already got it." Iwaizumi seemed smug about it, no doubt probably asking prior to this encounter since he already knew what you wanted to ask - but you had your own surprises.

"Funny, I did too."

"You asked his permission to date me?!"

"Duh, you're his best friend. I got permission before you even left for California~"Not explicitly, but you assumed Oikawa had always known how you felt.

"You really had me from the start didn't you?"

"Yeah, but you had me too Iwa.”

Iwaizumi Hajime was (and had been) your everything. But you were always his everything too.

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[doggernaut]

#19 for the ask game!

19. What headcanon do you always include in your stories?

Headcanons! I love them! I have a few. Some I explicitly include and others often (always?) inform my writing, even if they aren't mentioned on page. Here are a few favorites:

Jack Zimmermann is bi and demisexual. Full stop.

Suzanne and Coach Bittle aren't bad, homophobic parents. They are maybe a little clueless and awkward, but they want the best for Bitty and once he comes out to them they accept him. This is a little tangential, but I will always believe that that scene of Suzanne telling Bitty that she wants him to come home for the rest of the summer after he comes out to her would take place even if Bitty were straight and his partner were female. My read on her is that as the mother of an only child, she's terrified somebody is going to come along to take her son away from her. I think (and canon backs me up: see Coach and Jack reacting to the jam argument in Christmas in Madison) Coach is more awkward but ultimately more easy going, and ends up really being the voice of reason/ally Bitty (and Jack) need over the years when dealing with Suzanne. I've incorporated this into a few different fics.

Bitty can be his own worst enemy. He makes a lot of assumptions about how people perceive him and it often gets him in trouble (or, at the very least, causes unnecessary stress). This character trait is established in canon ("Jack hates me." "My parents will reject me if they know the truth about me.") and it's fun to play with it in fic.

Jack, in retirement, has a dad bod. Look, twenty-five-year-old professional athlete Jack Zimmermann, with abs that can grate cheese, is the subject of twenty-year-old Bitty's very detailed fantasies and exactly what he wants at that point in his life. But forty-something-retired Jack, who has nothing left to prove, is comfortable enough in his own skin to relax a little and has a body that reflects his life with Bitty (dessert every night). That Jack is the subject of forty-something-Bitty's very detailed fantasies and exactly what he wants at this point in their lives. He's the dad all the kids and pets want to cuddle with and is still strong enough to carry all the kids to bed at once. Still strong enough to carry Bitty to bed. It should be assumed that this softer Jack is the Jack that shows up in any fic I write in which he's no longer playing professional hockey, even if not explicitly stated. (Related: Bitty has a much harder time with getting older and frequently needs Jack's reassurance that he still finds him attractive. I think Bitty's logic about this is something like: "I know Jack loves me and finds me attractive BUT he didn't notice me that way until after I cut my hair and started eating protein and doing all the squats, so even though aging is inevitable, if I don't maintain that standard he's going to stop finding me attractive." See: what I wrote earlier about Bitty making a lot of unfounded assumptions about what others think of him.)

Jack's anxiety comes from Alicia. Look at Alicia's eyes in 24 Hour Celly. Those are Jack's anxiety eyes. (I know those links go to the whole comic not the exact panels but they're there, I promise.) I'm currently working on something that digs deeper into this headcanon.

Tater + Vanessa Channel 7 = 4 Eva. Why? It just feels right.

Oh, and one more. I know a lot of people headcanon Chowder as being from San Francisco proper but I have always headcanoned him as being from San Jose and growing up playing youth hockey with the club affiliated with the Sharks.

Thank you for this question! This is probably way more than you were asking for!

[chatsukimi]

Types of people as friends of mine

*when you can’t help but appreciate the people in your life

Romantic: bubbly laugh with crying eyes, childish jokes, spontaneous, shy, anime + manga list on post it note, hopeless romantic, indecision, short attention span, funny, curly hair, beautiful-oblivious, dark circles under eyes from sleepless nights, inferiority complex, doodles, follows rules by authority, nice, childhood crush’s sunflowers on drawer

Cynic: witty, warm hands, loyal fists, courageous, family over everything, secrets + facts, strong gaze, pencil scribbles on table, wrestling a sibling, cucumbers, competitive, computer games in class, sunlight, touches (aggressive and gentle), mothering, dependent and independent, middle child, joking gaslighting, uncommon common sense, unbelievable life stories, religious, competitive, caring, inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times, middle fingers at one’s enemies, bass beat of a club

Pessimist: dyed blue-black hair, alternative, black eyeliner, 50000 tabs open, murmurs, Six of Crows, morse code on revision sheet, silence, round glasses, stuttering laugh, mystery novels, K-drama, “mysterious”, burnt out gifted only child, introverted, drapes pride flag as a cape, pining for childhood heroes, leather jackets, fresh smell of books, fireplace, apathetic face, shares a brain cell with the romantic

Realist: golf on Sundays, maths equations, pushover, bathroom science experiments, critical, parental expectation, wine events, stubborn, slow words, slouching to hear others, gifted kid, jealousy, reliable, cursive text, sheltered, scathingly sarcastic, explanations to friends about school, hard working, overthinking

Absurdist: charismatic, midnight gym sessions, mimics friends’ movements, trespasses, calls of their name, independent, everyone likes them, knowing smiles, pull ups on a goal post, black cat, nights off the face of the earth, intellectual what-ifs, playful eyes (long periods of eye contact), chill, “that’s fine”, peaceful, coffee coffee coffee, dreams, doing before thinking, thrill-seeking, logical, music tastes reloading, direct, brave, reckless

Optimist: messy handwriting, cold hands, expensive coats handed down from family, intuitive phrases, distant, empty smiles, raised eyebrow, talking with strangers, flares of genius, will one day change the world, wandering into unmapped countryside, early mornings, passionate arguments on politics, leader, odd, emotion felt through piano, hopping on the spot, open-minded, ambitious, forgetful, sleeps in class, visionary, confident, “intelligent but insane”

Deontologist- smile of a little kid, teacher’s pet, anxious when imperfect, chocolate gelato at family movie nights, polite, golden retriever, righteous anger, serious gaze, baritone, supportive parents, fair but vindictive, polyglot, musicals, lover not a fighter, simple life, hidden past (turned success story), Mediterranean beaches, commitment, accepting, holds open doors, gifts from Europe, worried for optimist's happy-go-lucky attitude

[suckerforthisshit]

Someone was doing headcanons for Mello and Near, so let me do it as well... I'll first start with Mello

Mello:

Is 22 years old, alive.

Had meny periods in his life, the wildest phase was one from his 15th to 18th year.

Is bisexual, dominant, leaning towards woman. A womenaser. (-gasp-) And a fuck boy too...

As for boys he has specific requirements.

An absolute sex god. He is literal pharaoh in bed.

In Wammy's, he was the child who come in Wammy's youngest, in his seventh year. And he was on first place all until Near appeared in his tenth (it was twelfth Mello's)

He left Wammy's in the age of fifteen and joined mafia. This only worked because he had a lot of money and great advertisement as a genius boy.

On that time he lived a completely wild and fast life, going out in clubs, having a lot of sex

He is an absolute seducer and heartbreaker. Incredibly beautiful young man with charisma and attitude, makes girls and boys go crazy over him as he gives a sense of danger

German nationality. (Keehl is German last name)

Enjoys passion, challenge, mind games, loves to steal already taken people, gets in troubles

Doesn't drink because he is already completely out of control and under alcohol he made big troubles so he stopped

Asshole

Extremely low emotional intelligence and introspection. Can't control his emotions and often chooses to ignore some obvious things because they are way to painful for him to accept

Is very picky when it comes to food

Likes everything expensive, luxury

Very clean, takes care of his physical look a lot

Completely obsessed with Near.

After he joined mafia he was completely wild. His first calm down come when he get scar as his life was dangerously endangered.

After kira case got in a serious depression because he didn't know which path should he go. He knew that as his plan didn't go as he intended it to go, he didn't win against Near, but he didn't lose as well. Realized that now he has no choice but to choose wether to keep up his dream to defeat Near or leave him be as he feels that he is going to keep "following" Near his entire life and that Near is using this situation. He is completely horrified by that

That type of person to go on day in library and on night in strip club

Loves entertainment, loves to tease

Sees himself as a serious person

Had a older sister and baby brother. His parents and grandpa along with siblings died in car accident. Mello survived as he was playing around in trunk

Chocolate has a symbolic meaning to him as it was favorite chocolate of his grandpa. It is the last reminder of his family

Hates change so much that couldn't get off little boy hair cut only because it remind him of past. Very nostalgic. Changed haircut by time into something more of a mullet then bob

Unpredictable and complex. Very interesting and charming. Even if he does some offensive bullshit, you'll forgive him because it is hard to dislike him

Has special connection with Renaissance art.

Believes in god but is in Cristian stuff more because of vibe then actual belief. Is actually protestant

Likes everything that is considered as profound, from literature to art, but not because of expressive taste but because of the label

Actually likes hard rock and heavy metal

Very contradicting, often doesn't know what he wants

Listens to his instincts way more then he should

Pretty much narcissistic, but he actually cares very deeply about people

People fall for him easily. He loves to see how wanted he is.

Has a 'click' and when it's about things that he cares about, could easily go completely insane and destructive on every possible way. People fear him then

Treats as a way of flirting

Eats very bitter chocolate and HATES every other kind of chocolate. He thinks that only pure dark chocolate is real chocolate

Extremely good at dancing

Has a TON of knowledge about everything

Is a heavy nerd

I have A LOT MORE about Mello, I might make part two later on...

[twst-megane]

Rubinus Hawthorn

ルビニャス•ホーソーン

“The NRC’s fortune teller. An aloof airhead who can predict one’s fortune and future through his crystal bubble.”

General Bio :

Age : 17 (2nd Year)

Birthday : February 3rd (Aquarius)

Height : 180cm

From : Coral Sea

Dominant Hand : Right

Family : Unnamed Mother and Father

Other Names : Ryukin-kun (by Floyd), Monsieur Poisson (by Rook), Ruu-kun (by Alisa @twst-rose-prisms)

Voiced by : Nakamura Shugo

Likes : Playing with treasure, Decorations, Summer

Dislikes : People who yell too much

Favorite Food : Sorbet Popsicles

Least Favorite Food : Steamed Fish

Specialty : Fortune Telling

Hobbies : Ribbon Crafting

School :

Dorm : Octavinelle

Class : 2-C

Club : Board Game Club

Best Subject : Astrology

Unique Magic :

Treasures Untold

Is able to predict the target’s behavior and spells including the future, using the knowledge to his advantage via his crystal bubble.

Too much use of his crystal bubble for predictions could lead to overwhelming energy received, bringing him extreme mental exhaustion

Background :

Rubi grew up in a small town with his family being reputable fortune tellers. His parents were endearing but his mother would be overprotective of him due to his naivety. Rubi would soon come to adopt their teachings, interested more in fate than the knowledge they could ever give. He had a problem with verbal communication, unsure of how to approach a conversation or begin one, so he was always left out in group activities and clubs but he found a better interest to turn his eyes towards.

He would always visit an old shipwreck a bit further from his town, surprised to see the wonderful relics and treasures that were buried deep under the floorboards and seaweed. Soon this would become a habit of his to constantly visit his treasure trove, ignoring any sort of danger whatsoever. He found a crystal orb that he would call a bubble instead. Using it as a tool for his growing fortune telling skills. What reflected in the orb was his dream, his future, to visit somewhere that isn’t the coral sea, seeing Night Raven College in the reflections. A big smile erupted on his face, hoping those dreams of his come true. He brings the bubble home intending to keep it and bring it along for his future journey.

Not long after he was hunted down by a shark that was lurking around the area, his tail fin was damaged in the process of swimming away from it but luckily nothing else was injured. Yet, his parents were distraught, afraid to lose their only child to predators that would hunt them down. Rubi tried to protest, wanting to see more than what he’s been living, but his mother wouldn’t allow it. Rubi wasn’t allowed to leave the town for a few years until he was accepted into NRC which his parents reluctantly let him go and wished him the best in his new journey.

Trivia :

• The name ‘Rubinus’ is latin for the word ‘ruby’ a bright red gemstone while hawthorn refers to the hawthorn fruit

• Rubi is based off a Ryukin goldfish

• He has a singular mole on his neck and two notable moles on his back

• Despite his human height, he considers himself to be shorter in his merform compared to other merfolk due to his family’s genetics of having a short stubby tail

• He had a damaged tail fin from getting an encounter with a shark when he was younger

• He has a secret area he would often go to for human treasures that fell into the sea

• Uses his crystal bubble to foresee upcoming predictions, though even he believes not everything seems set in stone

• Is interested in the wonders of astrology and fate

• Has a hobby of making ribbons and bows from his father and wears as much as he can on land

• His ribbon earring was a gift from his parents and a reminder of who he is

• Had a childhood crush on Azul but was too afraid to speak up to him

(( Hello!! Thank you for reading this! Recently started playing twst and I just really love the ocs made and decided to make one too! Hope Rubi can make some more friends here 🫶 ))

[spid3r-trans]

↓↓ some quick twins au for the birthday boys!!! ↓↓

If there’s anything Milo Morales hates, it’s spiders. So when a certain mask-wearing idiot crashes through the window of the room that he shares with his brother, he knows he’s fucked. 

When Milo gets home from school, his twin is nowhere to be found. He’d expected it, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. 

Milo would cover for his brother in a heartbeat, but having to explain to his parents why they hadn’t come home together— having to lie to them at all — well, Miles better have a phenomenal reason to be out on this particular Friday night. 

Something about his brother has been off the past few days. Since the death of Spider-Man hit the news, Miles was more anxious than usual. He was hard to reach, and never where he was supposed to be. Milo can only give so many excuses to their teachers, and classmates-- to their parents before they all start to catch on. 

But worse, Milo didn’t know there were secrets they couldn’t share with each other. 

He thought they told each other everything, that no matter what happened— what either of them said or did — they would have each other's backs. 

Nothing was supposed to come between them. 

So what had?

Milo punches his pillow, getting the lumps out before he buries his face in the purple sheets. 

Seriously, his brother better have the hottest date in the world. That would be the only explanation Milo would accept, but that theory also relies on his twin having any sort of game— so Milo is really out of ideas. 

He reaches for his headphones, cranking the volume and squeezing his eyes shut as if the action alone could stop his thoughts from racing. 

Milo barely hears the tapping. 

It’s light at first— a gentle rapping against the glass window — easily mistaken for the raindrops. But it gets more urgent, insistent– annoyingly offbeat with the music from in his headphones to the point where it's nearly unbearable. 

Milo pulls them off his head and sits up, squinting at the window through the darkness. 

For a while, he doesn’t see anything. Just the rain splattering against the glass. But his heart is pounding, the hair on his arms is raised.

He knows something is wrong even if he can’t see it.

The window creaks. Fingers slide underneath. 

Milo’s hands find the baseball bat he keeps by his bed just as the window starts to slowly open. Slowly. Slowly.

There’s a sharp CRACK of thunder followed by a flash of lightning that illuminates the silhouette of a figure– a person– crawling through the window.

On all fours. 

The scream leaves Milo’s mouth just as his brother removes his mask.

–

Their father is at the door in seconds– nearly breaking it off its hinges as he throws it open– only to find his one of his sons lounging nonchalantly on his bed. 

Milo blinks up at him.

“Oh, sorry dad. Did you hear that? I was just watching a scary movie. CGI is really crazy these days.” He lets out the start of a laugh, but stops when he sees his father’s eye twitch.

“A scary movie?” Jefferson asks in disbelief, “In a thunderstorm?” He’s not really talking to Milo. He's already walking away– shaking his head and muttering about ‘the youth,’ and ‘losing his damn mind.’

Milo will apologize again later.

For now, he jumps up, shuts the bedroom door, and flicks on the light switch – looking up at the corner of the ceiling where his twin is perched.

Milo doesn’t even know where to begin. His brother is dripping wet from the rain, wearing what looks like a child’s Spider-Man costume, clinging to the ceiling.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He asks. 

“I tried to get your attention before I came in–” Miles starts, and then looks at the club Milo had discarded before their dad had come in. “Were you going to hit me with a bat?”

“Was I gonna- Yes! Yes, I was going to hit you with a bat! Get down.”

Miles does. He drops from the ceiling with more grace than he’d shown in his entire life-- spinning around and landing solidly on the ground. This was the same kid who tripped over his own shoelaces every day? The same kid who fell off the wii fit board trying to hula hoop? 

“What happened to you?”

“Just promise me you won’t freak out.”

–

Milo does freak out. But he thinks it’s an appropriate amount, given that his own brother is a human spider.

“How big was the spider that bit you? Actually, don’t tell me. Don’t tell me.” Milo shivers.

He stands up, wiping his hands on his jeans as he shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. I don’t know. Maybe we should-” He stops when he sees Miles’ face. 

And suddenly it makes sense– why Miles’ hadn’t told him right away.

Because Miles didn’t want Milo to think differently about him. Miles didn’t want his brother to think that he was a freak or a hero. 

The last thing Miles needs right now is a brother that doesn't believe in him.

“This still makes more sense than you having a date, actually.”

Milo sighs.

“Okay, okay fine. What can I do to help?"

Miles seems surprised at first-- and then relieved. He grins at him.

Milo might hate spiders, but he loves his brother.

[into-the-spider-verse]

Coming out of the woods to talk about Across the Spider Verse, and specifically a comparison of Insomniac Spider Man and Miles that’s been made. Spoilers ahead.

People have been comparing Insomniac SM(hence force pete) to miles on the basis of Pete’s big decision to not cure aunt May and save everyone else instead as the opposite of what miles is doing and I feel like that is a gross oversimplification of both of their scenarios. I do think Pete could end up siding with Miguel(in as much as the version of Pete in the movie is probably only tangentially canonical to game Pete) but I think that his reasons would be based on the assumption that Miguel knows what he’s talking about has actually researched it, which I think may be false

Anyway, Pete at the end of Insomniac’s game is faced with the decision to save aunt May and let everyone else in New York die, or hold onto the cure so it can be spread. He knows the exact ramifications of his actions, he knows the science and that without this dose of a cure there is no chance to save anyone else. He has no other options, either save May and let everyone else die, or save everyone except for May. Pete is also an adult and professional scientist who has a full understanding of his situation.

Miles is a child, very intelligent but still learning, who has been having turmoil with his parents throughout the movie. He wants to repair their relationship, but isn’t sure how to without revealing his identity and isn’t even sure that revealing his identity as spider-man would fix things. Facing this, he also is dealing with insecurity as a spider-man. Gwen hasn’t visited him, she’s keeping secrets from him, she’s hanging out with another spider-man who may be a romantic rival, and he was never invited to join the multiverse club. Facing that, he’s told by an iteration of Spider-man he’s never met before, who treats him callously and with no empathy while explaining the situation to him, and then expects him to obey him immediately. Miles is already on the outs, has very little reason to trust Miguel, and is not really given any choice in the matter. While the other spider-people largely accept that Miguel is right about canon events, the question is raised how sure he is and it does not appear that Miguel has looked for any alternatives or done any actual research, instead just operating based on the data from the world he collapsed. Even if this isn’t true, he doesn’t give Miles any reason to believe he’s worked exhaustively to look for alternatives. Miguel’s whole vibe is “man defeated by the world, doing what has to be done based on his pessimistic worldview, unwilling to try and be hopeful again”. So ultimately, Miles isn’t choosing to save his dad and damn his world, Miles is saying that he can’t standby and let someone he loves die when there is a chance he can save everyone.

Miles is fighting for the opportunity to save his dad and his world, banking on the ambiguity of the science behind the multiverse and his abilities as Spider-Man to find a way to hold his world together. There was no ambiguity in Pete’s situation. It was a true dead end, he knew all the stakes and knew what was possible, and made a choice within those confines.

[madrabit]

Hello! You are the resident queen of Bo(Jan) so can I please request 22 for them ? :)

Oh god, idk if I deserve that title, but I 100% accept and appreciate it! 🥹 and ofc you can request that! I'm sorry it's taken me so long, tho. I promise I'm still writing the prompts, so everyone who sent me one will get it! And feel free to send me more!

Send me a ship and a number and I'll write you a kiss 🩷✨️

22. ... in a rush of adrenaline

Bojan always liked football.

He loved watching it, even played for a club as a child and was sad when he had to stop. Football made him feel excited. He could loose himself in a game, could feel like a little kid again as the players sprinted over the field, so close to scoring goals. It made him think about his own time playing. He was part of the little league, nothing exciting, just a bunch of under 12 year olds running after a ball, faceplanting the grass more often than they actually managed to kick or score a goal. But for him it had been everything.

The first time he really felt the rush of adrenaline was as he ran towards the goal, no one in his way. He had scored with ease, the goalkeeper not able to hold the ball, even if he hadn't been distracted by some relative calling for him. The cheering of not only his teammates but his parents, his father, made him feel so incredibly proud. The tingling feeling made his heart beat out of his chest, made him feel alive and his pulse was droning in his ears.

Over the years, the way how he got this feeling changed. During the winter of his thirteenth birthday he had taken up snowboarding, changing the kids ski for a snowboard, the rush he got from zooming down the mountain, his own capability the only thing preventing him from crashing was different to the feeling of playing football, but it was good. The following summer his parents had taken him and his sister to the sea and Bojan had finally gotten the chance to try surfing again, this time much more successful than the previous visits.

He had taken up more and more hobbies, his week stuffed with activities until a sudden timeshift in his Judo practice and him, Martin and Matic forming a band had put a stop to his little blooming soccer career. It was hard giving it up, but the thrill of being in stage, hearing the (albeit still rather small) crowd cheer, while he was singing his heart out and his friends were playing until their hands hurt, was the only thing better than chasing after a ball.

He had still sometimes played with his friends, kicking around a ball and when Bojan had randomly found a group of guys playing football on one of Nace's and his morning jogs through their little neighbourhood park in Highgate, he had been excited.

The guys had been quite accepting when he had approached them and it didn't take long for them to meet up semi regularly. Sometimes in the evening, other days just barely past noon. After the first few times, the others had joined in and soon the whole band had spent at least one day a week watching Bojan run after a ball to his hearts content. But not only that, sometimes his friends would join in as well, making him even more excited than just playing with a group of random strangers.

"Bojan!"

His head snapped into the direction of the voice calling his name. Jure was charging at him, followed closely by one of the guys playing on the different team, trying to take the ball away from the blond drummer without using an elbow or tripping him. The man, James, was persistent though, managing to take the ball and leaving Jure behind as he changed directions.

Bojan felt his pulse starting to pick up, blood rushing into his ear as he sprinted after James. It took a bit of work and about all of his skill to get the lead back, immediatelly turning in a sharp twist that almost made him loose his balance. Without hesitation, he made is way to the makeshift goal, dodging one of James's friends, Robert, who caught up with him unfairly easy, clearly having a very noticable height advantage, but Bojan kept the ball, firmly blocking every one of the tall man's attempts at getting it back.

A few more strides and Bojan would be close enough to take a shot, would be able to score and get the last point he and his band needed to win. Instead of a time limit, they had set a point goal, a much more achievable way of playing either multiple games in succession or have a longer, more drawn out match. That the team that lost the most games would be paying for the first few rounds at the pub they frequented after meeting at the park, was making things even more exciting.

Not that Bojan was really interested in that. The feeling alone made him giddy, the thrill of the game made his heart race in his chest in excitement and he could barely contain the sheer energy buzzing through him during.

Everything happened way too quick for Bojan to notice, his movements almost instinctive, muscle memory that he hadn't forgotten even if he hadn't been playing for a good while now.

He dodged another one of James's friends, a broad shouldered, tall man, ducking under the guy's arm to keep his momentum. And before anyone else could try to get in his way again, he took the shot, kicking the ball just right, the angle working perfectly.

Joy rushed through him as the goalkeeper couldn't catch, falling to the ground while the ball flew over him, untouched and unbothered in its path until it dropped to the ground and stopped moving.

Bojan let out a little happy scream, his eyes darting around the field and landing on Jan.

The dark haired guitarist was standing a few meters away, a big grin on his face and suddenly Bojan felt his heart speed up even more, could hear his blood rushing in his ear, his hands shaking. He was moving without realising it, running into Jan's direction.

Jan barely had enough time to react before Bojan jumped him, clinging to him as the shorter man wrapped his arms and legs around the slightly older like a vice. The speed with which Bojan had hit him almost made them topple over, would have made then fall to the ground, sprawled out on the slightly wet grass, but Jan managed to catch him, already prepared after having seen Bojan's excited face. Hands landed on the singer's ass to hold him up securely, even though Jan knew that the strong thighs wrapped around his waist were more than capable of holding him up on their own.

Bojan leaned forward, crashing their lips together in a heated kiss that the taller man very eagerly reciprocated. His lips parted as he felt Jan's tongue dart out, licking over his bottom lip and drawing a soft little moan out of Bojan. The sound got lost in the kiss and as he let a hand wander to Jan's hair, running his fingers through the soft, dark strands and messing up the little bun Jan had made earlier, the taller squeezed his butt.

"I scored", Bojan giggled as he pulled back a tiny bit, before he connected their lips again into another kiss, feeling Jan smile as well.

"You did, yes", Jan said softly, hoisting Bojan up a little more as he felt the smaller man slip a bit. Bojan gasped softly, his blood rushing through his body, heart skipping a beat, adrenaline still making him shake a bit. Even though Jan fondling his ass certainly added a lot. He tightened his legs around the guitarist's waist, pressing himself closer and was just about to deepen the kiss again, as someone called out to them.

"I wanna do another round, so stop eating face and let's play some more", James said, jogging over to get the ball and making his way with it over to then again, kicking the ball before him.

"You just don't want to admit defeat yet", Jure chirped as he snatched the ball from the British man, running away with it in the direction of the goal. James let out a surprised yelp, charging after Jure, who just quickly passed the ball to Nace.

"You better prepare to pay up later!", Kris, who had been lounging at the edge of the makeshift soccer pitch, said, then he got up and dusted off his pants, ready to join in this time.

Slowly, Jan let Bojan slide down, pressing a last little kiss to plush lips. The singer grinned at him, his body already buzzing with energy, ready to cjase after the ball again and Jan couldn't help but give him a little slap on the ass as the he turned to jog away.

Bojan laughed, his steps feeling lighter than before, and he was sure the next visit at the pub would be a rather cheap one.

[thedeal-if]

what are like 3 facts of each ro?

👁️ so many possibilities lol I'm going to sprinkle some itty bitty subtle details that may or may not be relevant later on.

Dante

I don't want to reveal too much about Inferno because it kinda defeats the purpose of exploring the place yourselves lol but let's just say that somewhere… there's a certain area… where people can like... fight… and Dante is pretty good... There's a ranking... He's among the top 10 in that list...?

Dante smokes like a fucking chimney but always insists he isn't addicted. Will most likely avoid doing it in front of people if they were bothered by it tho

As an Aeshma (warrior Demons of Wrath) his body temperature is pretty high. When he gets really mad there might be a slight risk of fire.

Lilith

They are one of the managers of the strip club Paradise Lost (which is very girlboss of them imo).

One of the highest rankings Succubi, also one of the few who care the least about social rankings. As a Succubus, their power is mostly revolved around their voice and how convincing they can be.

Insanely good with numbers.

Josh

He's the youngest of three siblings. Josh's older sister also has the same ability as he does.

Josh is often considered the golden child (of the Guerreros and of Blackburn) but he really hates that title.

He would've liked to be a nurse but his parents gently swayed him towards a doctorate instead.

Villanelle

She has had two sets of foster parents. The first couple who adopted her weren't really the best.

Villanelle realized she was a witch when she was around eleven-twelve. Funnily enough, most witches and wizards live their entire lifes and never come to know of their nature.

You've already seen it in the demo but Villie has visions of the future. Her power though is more like... having Earth's timeline shoved into her face.

Victor

Aka Nemesis, the number 1 Demon Hunter in Entity. Let's just say he only joined in the first place because the highest higher up is… pretty convincing. That was nine years ago (if my math doesn't fail me). None of his partners survived lol let's hope Alekto is different 🤞

He likes card games 🥺 and wearing very expensive accessories (mostly watches)

Victor would actually want to have children but has kinda accepted that's kind of... complicated given his situation.

Aliyah

Aliyah claims to hate humans but there are a few very obvious exceptions. This Genie has a soft spot for a certain kind of people.

She surprisingly loves sleeping. She loves it so much she's spent more than a few years straight napping.

As Genies go, her abilities are quite limited to the whims of those who own the lamp. In the meantime, all their power goes as far as being smoke and mirrors (illusions, or plain nothing).

Nathan

Nathan is a guardian angel so he's basically at the bottom of the social ladder (at least prior to falling lol). He's also pretty young things considered, most angels are old old.

He wasn't all that good at being a guardian either? I mean personally I wouldn't trust him to take care of a goldfish

Don't let him trick you! He knows jack shit about actual philosophy (reference to a sneak peek)! Nathan likes having many interests and broadening his horizons tho, to keep conversations interesting. He could literally chat you up about anything.

Eden

He's living my dwarfless Snow White cottage core dream and I'm so jealous fr

So good with his hands, Eden really likes woodcrafting and crafting in general. The life of isolation is pretty boring despite its very attractive appeals (pls me too)

King Solomon lore but he used to have very powerful ring! In their family line (and in my story lol) those rings are their white irises. Yeah very powerful.

[buckbuckleybegins]

Fic snippet, anyone?

I was in the middle of writing a canon-complaint fic when my brain screamed at me and gave me the idea for another AU.

I have an AU problem 😔

Anyway… AU is Mob Boss!Buck and Undercover Interpol AgentBodyguard!Eddie

May contain heavy themes like drugs use and gun violence so that that as a TW.

~*~

The Buckleys were dead.

All but one, at least. The least important one.

Buck should be sad about it, mourning them—and he was, in a way. In the way an unloved child could ever mourn his parents. He mourned all the things that should have been and never would be. All the love they never gave him—all the love they would never give.

They had never been proud of him and never would be, and that made a part of Buck—a child-shaped part that housed all his needs, wants, and insecurities—ache in ways he didn’t think were still possible. Not after twenty-eight years of accepting he would never be the son they actually wanted, just the one they were left with.

They’d died in an ambush, on the way back home, after personally stepping in to solve a territorial dispute between their clan and the Mexican cartel with whom they shared a shaky border. Their route should have been secure, hidden. But there was nothing secure about their work—that was something Buck had learned as a child. He’d learned it when his big brother died in a similar way, leaving him with two parents who wanted nothing more than for Buck to have taken his place instead.

Buck thought of Maddie during the funeral and how damn glad he was that she was somewhere far, far away from all this bullshit. From the rain soaking his curls and black suit, and from the men surrounding him, armed to the teeth and ready to shoot at the first thing that moved toward them. He wondered if she thought of him, too, even though he actually wished she didn’t—that she’d left this shitty life behind when she escaped that day with one of their parents’ men, the one she fell in love with, with Buck’s help and blessing. He knew, though, that she probably hadn’t. She was one of the few people in his life who actually loved him and he would always be in her thoughts. She’d promised him that.

There was someone Buck was mourning, though. Someone he should have been at the funeral of, rather than his parents’. A man who’d shown him affection in a way Buck had always imagined a father might. Bobby had been his parents’ bodyguard and had followed them through hell and back many times. Except this time, he hadn’t come back, either.

Buck realized this was the first time he’d shed a tear since the news, and it was only when he started thinking of Bobby rather than his parents. Bobby, who took him to his football games; Bobby, who taught him to cook and drive; Bobby, who baked himself all the cakes for his birthdays…

The dark sunglasses concealed his tears, and Buck quickly swiped a thumb over the cheek where that one stray tear had managed to escape.

Showing any kind of weakness would mean death. And he already knew that everyone thought he was weak.

Evan Buckley should never have been the heir to the Buckley clan. He was nothing but a mess—a child who had never grown up, a disappointment to his parents. Buck already knew they were making contingency plans for when they were gone, just so they wouldn’t have to leave the business to him. All the supposed heir knew how to do was party, waste his parents’ money, get wasted and high, and fuck whoever showed him any amount of interest. He’d fuck the girls in the bathroom of whatever club he was at or in his jeep, but he’d bring the boys home only so he could rile his parents up and see the anger and disgust in their face the morning after.

Buck didn’t give a shit, though. He didn’t want the business in the first place. He barely thought he was gonna live to his thirties. Whatever his parents’ thought of him or wanted from him was of no consequence to him, because he was already sure he was gonna die soon—probably from an overdose, or getting beat to death over some girl, or getting shot in a dark alley somewhere just for being a Buckley.

He was already sure he could do nothing to be Daniel in their eyes.

Whatever contingency plan they had fell through because the one sitting in his father’s tacky chair, in his parents’ tacky living room, surrounded by a bunch of men and women who Buck knew were important and currently staring at him for answers, was Buck—and not someone else.

He was tired halfway through the meeting, his hand brushing his face more than once, squeezing his eyes to fend off a migraine.

Running a drug empire was not something he knew how to do or ever actually wanted to do. But fate had a different plan, so there he was.

If the people surrounding him were looking at him like he was a liability, they were only hiding it half well.

And if Buck was going to end up dead, shot in his bed while asleep by one of his own men, well… that wouldn’t come as much of a surprise.

[astralix]

Act 005 Do Better

Pretty Guardian ✶ Sailor Moon

Characters: Original Characters, Canon Characters-mentioned Rating: Teen, Older Teen Genre: Angst, Action, Fantasy/Magical Girl Song: “Starting Over” Originally from Final Fantasy XIII-2

Disclaimer: I do not own Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, just my interpretation of the Zodiac Senshi, Sailor Phoenix and Sailor Ophiuchus.

✦✶✦

Losing ground, losing myself, Darkness comes alive I find myself at night and In daytime I hold on

✦✶✦

She started over and over.  One time it was because of her sister getting bullied out of primary school.  The second time was because her sister’s dream high school was in the Juuban area.  She was the golden child of the family, and there was nothing the girl could do about it.  She had to go with the flow.  It was not as if she made many friends either.  Her nose was stuck in a book or playing video games over the years.

She watched as her mother fawned over her older sister’s achievements, but only ever told her younger daughter, Emiko, that her achievements were merely “acceptable”.  Emiko tried reminding her parents that she should get rewards like her sister does for each of her own achievements.  However, they either could not afford it at the time, or they were running late and the store closed before they got home.  Sometimes, Emiko was told she had to surpass her sister or “do better”, but it seemed nigh impossible.

Her sister graduated with amazing grades in her subjects.  She was the Valedictorian in her year, while Emiko was maybe in fourth or third place.  Her sister went to private schools, while the family only had enough money to send Emiko to public schools.  It just was not fair, but there was nothing Emiko could do but come in last place for her parents and her sister.  If she got a terrible grade, she was punished, but if her sister got a terrible grade, her sister was told she should study more and that she tried her best.

Emiko merely held in her sigh when she was told that the parents found a good school for her older sister.  She wanted to go to whatever this academy was too, but her parents only saved enough for her sister to go.  Her sister wanted everyone to be proud of her, while Emiko wanted nothing to do with her family.  It would mean they were moving, and Emiko could not attend the middle school of her dreams.  She had wanted to board at the school just to get away from her neglectful and troublesome family.

Her family were not the only ones that sung her older sister's praises.  It was nearly everyone in a given area.  From teachers and important members of the town or village’s political climate, Emiko was stuck hearing her sister’s achievements and praises.  She would have to tell her sister their regards, and she did, diligently.  However, she hated doing so.

She had to do better.  So, she foregone friends and family outings to study and attend extra classes to get better scores than her sister.  She had to do better.  So, she attended various clubs and extracurriculars for her future resume and CV.  She had to do better.  So, she volunteered her time at various shelters.  She had to do better.  Until she could not decide what to do.

Emiko was deciding what to do to finally get the recognition she felt she deserved when she noticed a store had opened up.  There was a huge sale.  The sales were on items for more than fifty percent, which was strange coming from a store opening sale.  She was wary of the shop, but it seemed to have tantalizing specials on plants.  Perhaps…

She shook her head.  It was best she did not, because most of the time these sales were perpetuated by a henchman from an enemy beyond that of the solar system.  There was a little voice in the back of her head telling her would it be nice if her sister fell victim to one of those scams?  She took a deep breath, trying to determine when her bus would arrive.

Wouldn’t it be better if she was out of your hair?

Her eyes widened at the small voice getting gradually louder.

Wouldn’t it be better if you were the golden child instead?

She was horrified.

Admit it, you just want her gone!

She clapped her hands over her ears to try to quiet this inner voice.

“That isn’t true!” she called.  However, her eyes widened when other students waiting for the bus home glanced over at her outburst.  She nodded, apologetically, and kept her head down.

What on earth was going on?  She must have been tired.  When was the bus going to get here?  She checked her cellphone again only to discover her reflection was smiling back at her.

Admit it, the reflection moved her lips to form the words but no words came out.  Emiko dropped her phone in fear.  The students waiting for the bus with her glanced at her again.  One of the boys picked up her phone and handed it back to her.

“Thank you,” Emiko said, and immediately pocketed her phone without another glance at it.  She must have been tired from cram school.

Yeah, that had to be it.  She glanced at the store again.

Still, she should take advantage of the sale should she not?  Then, again she should not.  It would be an obvious scan but maybe she could give her sister a good scare?  She balled her hands into fists and bit her bottom lip.

Nah, the sale would not be up much longer anyways.

Except, it was not.  The sale had been up for more than a week.  The voice in the back of her mind was getting louder with every day.

One day she had taken the bus, and decided to purchase one of the items on sale for her perfect sister…

[the-bar-sinister]

Saturday Morning S.T.A.R.S: The Animated Series

Episode 17: Mini-golf Madness

A-plot: Despite warnings of stormy weather, Chris, Barry, Jill and Wesker go minigolfing on their day off to settle a bet between Chris and Wesker.

B-plot: New recruit Rebecca is in the office manning the phone lines, and dealing with increasingly ridiculous antics of the RCPD.

Act one:

Rebecca comes into the office and reads notes on procedure left by Wesker. Turning on the radio she hears a weather report about a massive thunderstorm warning for Raccoon city later that afternoon.

Under a grey sky, Chris, Barry, Jill and Wesker show up at the Raccoon City Family Fun Center Mini-golf course.

Barry insists on bringing his real golf clubs from home and is bragging about his swing.

Jill is giggling and excited talking about how she hasn’t been to Mini-golf since she was a kid.

Meanwhile Chris and Wesker are deadly serious about the competition to a ludicrous degree.

In the background of the course we see another family golfing with their young, disruptive son.

In the office, Chief Irons tells Rebecca to turn off the damned radio and get serious. Flustered, she turns it off, only to get a call from downstairs, the RCPD officers want her to order them some pizzas.

Act two

The golf teams are Wesker and Jill vs Chris and Barry.

Barry is a total show off, talking up how much he knows about the game but comically overshoots every hole, or has his swing disrupted by hazards.

Jill turns out to be an absolute ace at Mini-golf, promoting Chris to playfully call her a traitor and demand to know her secret. Wesker jokes about having her ‘specially enhanced’ for the mission.

The kid with the golfing family is messing around, forcing his parents to chase after him.

At the S.T.A.R.S office Rebecca is juggling calls from RCPD officers hazing and taking advantage of her. We see her grow increasingly frazzles and frustrated, running around the department, cleaning up spills, finding lost keys, accepting pizza deliveries etc. Meanwhile the phone won’t stop ringing.

At the golf course the teams are neck and neck going into the final hole, which is an enormous, elaborate set piece styled like Castle Dimitrescu.

Over the last few scenes it’s started to rain, but Chris and Wesker insist to keep playing. Thunder rumbles. They have to use their police clout to be allowed to stay while the Center closes.

As the center closes, the father of the golfing boy is seen talking to the course staff, saying that he can’t leave because his son ran off and vanished.

Chris and Wesker stop bickering momentarily as the pay attention to the conversation about the missing boy.

The storm picks up and a strike of lightening hits the fake castle. There’s a scream. Everyone looks up to see the missing boy in the top of the castle– which has caught on fire

Act three

Chris and Wesker put aside their grudge match to rescue the boy in danger.

The team works together, despite not having their equipment, to find a way to scale the burning building and rescue the kid.

Chris grabs a hold of the child, but it looks like they’re both going to be hit with falling debris, only to be pushed out of the way by Wesker at the last second.

At the RCPD, an officer tries to get Rebecca to clean the men’s room for him. She finally has had it up to here and let’s off a little tirade before playfully whacking him with a plunger and stomping back to the office.

Returning the child to his parents, Chris and Wesker agree that the bet has ended in a tie– for now.

Jill calls them both ridiculous, but is seen bandaging Wesker’s burns with a sigh.

Barry laments that he wasn’t able to show them his hole in one.

Final scene

The crew comes into the office the next day. Wesker and Rebecca each ask one another how the day went, and both claim to have had a completely normal day.

S.T.A.R.S. says!

Standing around the coffee machine in the office, Chris and Wesker explain to the audience that competition is all well and good, but not to let it go too far. Be a good sport, and make sure you’re never in a situation that will get someone hurt!