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#(especially if you don't want to believe a child beat you)

luviestarz · 7 months

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yoon jeonghan fic recs!

✧ such a flirt ! - @amateurasterism (it’s simple: jeonghan knows he’s a flirt, but didn’t realize you flirting back was the key to breaking him.)

✧ deeper in denial ! - @amateurasterism (if there’s one thing you know about jeonghan, it’s that he’s a tease. what happens when the teasing makes it to soonyoung’s game of spin the bottle?)

✧ MON ANGE ! - @itadorins

✧ KIDULT - @hvae (jeonghan always believed he was never fond of children, especially when he took the job at your daycare. little did he know the child in him was playing hide and seek, finally revealing itself after growing to love the kids. oh, and you too)

✧ mirror mirror - @cheolism (jeonghan asks to roleplay him being jealous and fucks you like the little desperate slut you are)

✧ It's Nice To Have A Friend | yjh x reader - @sluttywoozi (You and Jeonghan have embarked on your fifth annual Best Friends trip, but it's a bit different than usual, considering he made the reservation under Yoon Y/N and told them he was your husband. What's a honeymoon between friends anyway?)

✧ a little attention - @onlymingyus

✧ MY ATTENTION - @slytherinshua

✧ when jeonghan realizes he's in love with you - @wonwoonlight

✧ 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘 ♥︎ - yoon jeonghan ! - @hoshzone (not being able to wait until Jeonghan gets off the phone with Joshua, you decide it’d be a good idea to get yourself off on his thigh. He makes sure you pay for that.)

✧ call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M] - @sweetlemontart (to you, one of jeonghan's most admirable trait is his candid nature. he's straightforward with most people—if he's angry, they'll definitely know. but with you? he'd rather swim the ocean day and night than take his anger out on you. well, that is, of course, unless you ask him to.)

✧ to live again | yoon jeonghan - @viastro (it’s been years since your last milestone birthday; a time when everything still felt right in the world with youth and ambition. now that you’re older and times have changed, would you dare take a chance to save someone else in the past at the cost of your own future?)

✧ 彡 my heart is beating for two. — yoon jeonghan - @seuonji (daycare worker yn! x secretary jeonghan — you’re a worker at the daycare and of course, your main priority is the safety of the kids. how’d you deal with an unfamiliar face trying to pick up one of the kids one day?)

✧ the long way | yoon jeonghan - @trblsvt (it was just like any other shoot. go in, pose, drink water, don't get food on the clothes, and don't joke around with the staff. easy. except it wasn't that easy.)

✧ — ode to you - @lovelyhan (if there's one thing you've learned from all the lives you've spent together, it's that jeonghan isn't always someone you'll end up wanting. he can be crass. he can be secretive. he can be nothing short of vexing. but in the end, he's everything you need him to be.)

✧ rain and kisses | yoon jeonghan - @babyleostuff

✧ sharing is caring - yoon jeonghan - @etherealyoungk

✧ lowkey — yoon jeonghan - @chenfleur (Jeonghan's supposed to be on stage in twenty minutes, and he's nowhere to be found.)

✧ our dawn is hotter than day. - @ikigaisvt (in which you and your boyfriend says i love you for the first time surrounded by his friends.)

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multific · 9 months

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Pink Flags

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Warnings: smut, unplanned pregnancy, angst

Summary: After a night of passion, you face Simon with the consequences, however, his reaction is far worse than you could have ever imagined.

You were always good at what you were doing.

Comically good. The way to take down terrorists was like a dance. A melody you create by murdering them.

What you weren't so good at were feelings. Especially your own.

No matter how tangled up you got with them, you always found a way out.

You promised you won't become attached to anyone. Attachments are dangerous.

But you did find yourself entangled with your LT.

Which wasn't good.

You knew it was unprofessional but the moment his lips hit that sensitive spot on your neck, you lost all sense and only came back to it the next morning.

When once again, you lost all senses when you felt his bulge rub against your ass. It was all a mess.

You should have seen the red flags. But you chose to ignore them all.

Simon Riley for one was a huge red flag.

The entire man was a secret and you loved it. It was so exciting and interesting for you.

You knew Simon wasn't the relationship type of guy so you knew what to expect. You were ready for rejection at any given time.

But of course, it never came.

Not once did he reject anything you did, ask or told him to do.

Not even on the battlefield.

Simon knew you were talented so why would he question it? But now, now he had a question, a question he was afraid to get an answer to.

"What did you just say?"

"I'm pregnant."

Simon saw many terrible things, and done some himself, but that one word was the worst he had ever experienced.

A word that will change both of your lives and he wasn't ready for that. He was dead. Only a ghost, an idea, a machine.

Not a father.

"Get rid of it." he would reply in his panic. He honestly didn't even realize he said it out loud if it wasn't for the hurt in your eyes, he would have believed he didn't.

But he did. And it hurt.

He then turned away and left.

You promised yourself it would be the last time you saw him.

Because now, you finally could see all of his red flags.

All of them came crashing down on you.

But you also knew you won't 'get rid of it'. No, you will keep this baby.

And after getting a note from your doctor, you retired from the army, focusing on the baby and yourself instead.

Fuck Simon and his attitude.

Fuck him for not stepping up when you needed him.

Fuck him.

You will do better without him.

---

Living in a small apartment in a quiet place in London might have been the obvious choice.

But it was your choice.

You wanted to prove that you can provide for your child.

Thankfully you were smart enough to not spend the money you earned while in the army.

So, you had enough money for now.

Not for very long, but you could still get a little nursery done in your home.

You went to all of your appointments with that doctor.

Hearing the heart of your baby beating was like magic.

And then the announcement of the century, you were having a little girl.

A beautiful little girl who is yours.

Your daughter.

You needed many days to let that sink it.

Being pregnant and alone was a nightmare.

No one was there to rub your feet or to help with your cravings.

You told yourself you don't need anyone anyway… After all, who would want a woman who is pregnant with someone else's child?

There might be a couple men out there but you didn't need them.

You just needed you and your baby.

And that was enough.

When the time finally came, you could only stare at her, sleeping in her bed next to you in the hospital.

You swore to protect her from everything.

You swore to be enough for her.

You swore to love her forever.

For she was the love of your life.

Your little bundle of joy.

You gave her a name, a name you always wanted to have yourself, so you let her have it instead.

A healthy little girl.

Your daughter, Emily.

Bringing her home was possibly as challenging as it was magical.

You ordered some food for yourself before putting her to sleep.

You tried your best to remember everything the doctor and the nurses told and taught you.

There was a knock on your door, you stood up and walked to get your food.

But of course, instead of your food, a man stood in your doorway.

Simon.

"You got to be fucking with me." you said as he looked at you.

"Nice to see you too, Lass."

"What do you want?"

"I believe you have something of mine. Half, mine."

"Go fuck yourself Simon. This is all you can say? 11 months and this is the best you can do. Leave."

And you slammed the door into his face.

When your food finally arrive you did catch a glimpse of him still waiting in the hallway. But you didn't care.

Who did he think he was?

Half of his?

Fuck him.

How dare he?

---

From that day on, he was everywhere.

In the grocery store, in the park, in the restaurants. Wherever you and Emily went, Simon followed.

One day, you were sitting on a bench, Emily sleeping in her stroller when he suddenly sat down next to you.

"I'm sorry."

"That's a better start." you said, not looking at him.

"I was a complete idiot when I told you to…" he looked at the stroller as you watched him, you understood what he meant. "I have been watching you for a while now. I found you when you were five months along."

"So, you have been watching me for 6 months now?"

"About that much, yes. I died the day my family died. I am a ghost, a baby didn't fit into that."

"Then wear a condom." you said with a harsh tone, he knew he deserved it.

"I am not father material. I am a soldier. Having a child is… not for me."

"Why are you here Simon? Are you here to tell me, this time nicely, that you want nothing to do with me or my daughter? Fine, have it your way. Leave, I didn't need you then, I don't need you now."

"You were the best of us. 141 isn't the same without you. Price often said that you will be the end of me. He always joked about you and me… a quiet life, but I don't think he meant it as a joke. You fascinated me always. You are so beautiful and kind."

"Simon-"

"The day you were told you are having a girl, you were so happy. You went to a restaurant and ate so many things, then you went to the ice cream shop. The lady looked at you funny when you asked to only eat the pink ones. I followed you, I watched you."

"Why are you here Simon?"

"Price told me to find you, he told me to make things right, but he only spoke the words I have been meaning to do. I knew I needed you the moment you joined the team. I let you go because of my own doubts and fears. I do not know what I would do if anything happened to you or her."

His words were sincere. His eyes were filled with guilt and regret.

You would be lying if you said you weren't attracted to him. You always were and will be.

"I can't let you in Simon if you are only going to leave us." is all you could say, your voice, barely a whisper.

Simon was about to say something when Emily started to stir and cry.

You grabbed her and put her on your chest, slowly bouncing and calming her down. You looked at Simon whose eyes were glued to your little girl.

"She has your eyes." you said as he looked at you and then back to her. You moved her slightly, making her face him.

"She looks like you." he said. "Beautiful." it was something he wasn't meant to say, you could tell easily. "I don't want to leave, but I have to. It's what's the safest for you two."

"It's not enough. I am not going to just send you photos of her for every anniversary. I'm not going to tell her that her father wants to see her but can't. It will break her and me. Either you have us Simon or not. I'm not doing the tango with you."

"You were always the all-or-nothing type." he chuckled. He was looking at Emily and you could tell it wasn't an easy decision to make. But you couldn't let him have it his way. As if to help your case, Emily reached out her small hand towards Simon, you smiled at her but waited for his reaction.

He lifted his hand and let her touch his fingers.

Simon will never forget the feeling of his daughter's first touch. It was so warm and innocent. Her little fingers played with his much bigger ones.

Simon came with the intention of letting you go. But he couldn't.

When he first saw you, you were radiating.

Your belly was showing as you walked from store to home. Simon should have known it was a done deal after that.

He should have known he will never be able to let go.

"I will make this right." he said as he let Emily wrap her tiny fingers around his thumb.

He couldn't believe just how terrible he was towards you that day. Telling you to 'get rid of it', of his daughter. He will forever regret his words. No matter how much he will do in the future. You offered him a small smile and a simple nod.

You knew he will be able to make things right, the two of you will be able to figure this out.

Simon Riley might be a walking red flag with a tragic past, but when you handed him Emily, his eyes filled with love and suddenly, in the bright daylight those red flags looked more pink to you.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

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charliehoennam · 2 months

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A/N: fulfilling @j23r23's request made here. Happy reminder that requests are open!!

Summary: Alfie comes homes late at night and finds his pregnant wife sleeping on the couch and confesses his fear to his unborn child

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!reader

Warning: sexual connotations towards the end, language, pregnancy themes

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Alfie was never one to be easily scared. He had a tough upbringing and, being the man of the house to his two older sisters, Rebecca and Debora, and their divorced mother, he had to grow up fast.

His father had left before Alfie was even born, leaving his son to become the only man of the house.

Sure, his mother was quite the mama bear herself. But there had always been resentment from Alfie towards his unacquainted father for leaving his mother to fend for her children on her own.

Alfie vowed that, if he ever became a father, he would support and help the mother of his child however he could, no matter how unconventional.

You felt like the luckiest woman in the world to be married to him. Alfie was nothing like most men. Most men would participate very little in these affairs, believing them to be limited only to women, but not Alfie. And if anyone dissed him for it, he'll tell those cowards to fuck right off because he wouldn't leave you alone in one of the most painful moments of your life.

It wasn't very common for you either. Part of you was so worried about just having him present for the birth. You worried he wouldn't want to go anywhere near you after it - obviously after you've healed - or have another child.

"Love, after the war I've seen, there is no amount of blood that can scare me away. Now, I won't pry if you don't want me to, of course. I'll respect whatever boundaries you have. But I would like to be there to hold your hand at the very least," he'd say.

He was hellbent on getting you all the best doctors and only the most experienced midwives to assist with pregnancy and the labor.

He didn't avoid making love to you because you were pregnant. It surprisingly turned him him on, made him certain about getting a baby back into you as soon as he could.

Every night, he came home to you with your favorite sweet and treated you to a warm bath together entitled to a foot rub and back rub just before bed.

Every afternoon, he'd meet you exactly at 3 when the weather wasn't too sunny or cold for a walk around the square or the block.

Every morning, once it became harder for you to bend over, he'd kneel down every time to get your heels on for you and compliment how beautiful you looked.

Regardless of the arguments you'd have, he was always consistent with his help. It didn't matter how he felt, he put his feelings aside as he reminded himself that they were nothing compared to the human growing in your body.

Your unborn child had reminded him of his sisters struggles during their terms. Crying over their husbands' affairs, neglected and alone, desperately wondering how they would raise the child. He was only a boy at the time, but he made sure to remember their names.

Once older and stronger, he tracked down all the men responsible for breaking his sisters' hearts and punished them with a beat-down they'd never forget. He considered offing them, but he figured the very least they could do is provide financial support. So, before they could even speak right or breathe through a healed nose, he put them into jobs his contacts proposed especially to him in order to keep a close on them.

That was simply Alfie's nature. Protective and vengeful.

Despite barely having to lift a finger for anything ever since Alfie hired an entire team to assist you, your body still felt exhausted and heavy from the weight of the growing baby in your belly.

You found yourself sat on the couch with Cyril snoring peacefully at your feet, warmed by the crackling fireplace before you.

You wanted to lie in your bed and rest your swollen feet in the comfortable warmth of your cotton linens, but Alfie still wasn't home. You worried when he got home late.

It took one look at the winding wooden stairs to convince you to swing your legs up on the couch, stretching them over the plush cushions.

Closing the heavy book in your hand, you tucked it snug between your side and the back of the couch for a quick shut-eye.

When Alfie arrived home, he tried to be as quiet as possible. He wasn't sure if you'd gone to bed, but he did know you had trouble sleeping without him. Your limited sleep positions were nothing as comfortable as snuggling up to his side.

Locking the door, he hung up his coat and hat. Just before he could make it to the first step of the stairs, he heard Cyril's snoring coming from the living room. That's when he noticed the light radiating from the fireplace, dancing against your skin as you slept soundly.

He stood in the door watching you for a moment, basking in the image of your sleeping frame. The warmth of the fireplace could not compete with of that which spread through his chest.

Alfie smiled to himself as he gazed upon you, his eyes admiring every crevice and hair on your face. The line of your nose, the eyelashes you'd bat at him, the shape of your lips and the faint curve of your smile lines. He loved knowing he'd been the main cause of those particularly.

But, as his gaze moved down to your protruding belly, he was reminded how close the day was. He wondered how the months flew by so fast.

He felt like he had so much time to prepare for fatherhood, but he felt just as hopeless as when you first told him about the baby.

Stepping into the living room, he walked over quietly to join Cyril on the floor in front of the couch.

He stared into the fireplace as cyril shifted to rest his head on Alfie's lap - his laziest greeting yet.

Alfie sat on one side, leaving his opposite leg bent to rest his arm over his knee. Your belly was just inches away.

Moving his gaze back your clothed bump, he sighed heavily.

"You know, I never met my father, right," he whispered to the unborn child. "I think it's wise you know that now, 'fore you come out. Didn't have one growing up, see? So I 'avent got the slightest idea of how to be one."

Lured from your nap by Alfie's voice, you slowly blinked your eyes open. Although Alfie's head of hair was all you saw, you realized he wasn't talking to you and he couldn't see you were awake.

Eavesdropping wasn't very polite, but you couldn't help yourself. You didn't want to stop him, but hearing him to the baby in you was quite heartwarming so you decided to let Alfie have a bonding moment of his own.

"Truth is you got me downright scared," he continued. "Even after months, I still am downright terrified and you ain't even 'ere yet... I know it's a lot to ask, yeah, especially since you're still in there, blissfully unaware of the horrors of the world. But I give you my word I'll try my best to be the best for you and your mum. I hope you can understand that even when you decide to hate me whenever I give you an earful. Though I doubt I can do it. Think your mum will have to sort you out," he mumbled with a playful smirk. "I'll try my best for you, yeah? I just hope it's enough."

Alife's smirk faded as she gazed at your belly. He felt pathetic, venting to an unborn child as if that would solve all his problems. Alfie hated admitted, and he would never admit it to anyone but you, but he was terrified of becoming a father.

You didn't blame him; you had your own fears as well, so you could understand why this precious and fragile life had him so frightened.

He still hadn't noticed you were awake or that you had heard his confession. Until you lifted a hand to stroke the hair on the back of his head.

" 'eard all that, did ya?"

He didn't exactly blush, but he did feel warmth racing around his face with embarrassment.

"You're going to be a great father, Alfie" you answered. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But as long as we're together and we have each other, we can get through anything."

"Yeah, I know, love," Alfie nodded and sighed. He hated talking about his emotions, even if it was to the only person he could trust blindly. "I just don't want to be a disappointment like my father, if you could even call 'im that much."

"You won't be, and I'll tell you why. You're nothing like him," you smiled, carding your fingers through his brown locks. "You're a good man, Alf. I know you do what you have to do out there, but what matters to me is the man you are in here. And in here, you're a good man. And I wouldn't want to be carrying anyone's child. I'm honored to be the mother of our babe."

"You really mean that?" he smiled trying to look over his shoulder at you, as far as his neck - and age - allowed.

"Every word. You're worried enough to ask your sisters and the midwives for help, Alf. Not many men care to even worry about that sorta thing."

"I'm not like most men," he smirked feeling a sense of pride. "How'd you know about that though?"

"Becca told me you been meeting her for tea every week for advice."

"I fucking knew it. I knew she'd blabber off to you," he chuckled shyly.

"It's nothing to ashamed of, love. I actually find your level of concern and willingness to help in whichever way extremely attractive," you smirked stroking the sensitive skin on his neck with your finger.

"Do you now?" He grinned mischievously knowing exactly where this was headed. One of the perks that came with your pregnancy, in the later stages of it, was the sharp peak of sexual desires.

There were no more worries about you getting pregnant - too late for that now - and seeing your belly swollen, with his child that he put inside you, only made him wish he could put more and more.

"I think I like where this is headed."

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fic #tom hardy #peaky blinders

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recreationalfanfics · 1 year

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Yandere Bachira/ Yandere Shidou + Obsessing Over Their Agent

Giving into their egos at the end of Blue Lock, they're used to getting everything they wanted and what they wanted next...was their cute little agent who handled their public relations and contracts♡

Characters: Bachira Meguru, Shidou Ryusei

Bachira:

"You're staring again."

Bachira blinks at your words, dazed as he slowly was brought back to reality. Huh, he must've zoned out staring at your face again. Your sharp (e/c) eyes focused on your phone, your stoic expression making his heart beat a bit more quickly in his chest, and your hair which was all fixed up and neat was just begging for his fingers to come through it with how it looked. He tilted his head to the side cutely and closed his eyes, flashing you his most charming smile.

"Can you blame me?" He chuckled, moving his way over to you. With lightning fast reflexes, you stuck your foot up in the air to stop him while still focusing on your task at hand as he whined and tried to pinch your cheek. He pouted after a few unsuccessful minutes and frowned, "Aw! You're no fun, (Y/n)-chan!"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but you did respond to him.

"Sir, don't be misinformed; this relationship is purely professional. I am your agent, you are my client. That is all." You spoke sternly to him as if he were a child, "Now, let's get you ready for that commercial shoot."

Just a client, huh?

Bachira sighs and holds his chest where his heart would be and looks at you with his big yellow puppy dog eyes: "That hurts, (Y/n)! After everything we've been through!"

Again, his attempts were met with silence and he frowned, seeing that you were still focused on your phone. That's not fair, (Y/n), so many people would've absolutely killed to be in your shoes in this moment and you have the audacity to brush him off? Fine, he'll just have to make it clear that there was no one else but you.

- He makes everything difficult for everyone if it doesn't involve you, he's still likeable, but everyone just talks about how he's a bit too energetic to stay still. You can't tell how many times make up crews, directors, and training coaches or even other players had to shyly come up to you and make Bachira comply with their wishes because "he behaves when you're around".

- Many times Bachira tries to make it appear you two are a couple; telling you that he loves you as you do his foundation for his upcoming interviews, excitedly running at you in between commercial breaks to ask you if he did well, and often wanting to take you out for casual outings as celebration but you declined. You didn't want to feed into whatever delusion he had in his head about you two.

- You tried to be a bit personal and suggest he try out some sports modeling, casually mentioning how a current model heart throb was interested in collaborating with him in hopes that it'd be enough to get him to move on but he frowned and shook his head. NO! He's not posing for pictures with anyone, especially not for some random model, if its not you!

- Even though you're in charge of his social media; he will still post pictures of you to his own account, admiring how cute you are when you're in the zone, or just captioning the photo with a simple: "Mine♥️💕" and even though you tell him to delete those photos everytime, you feel a bit uneasy when you realize you didn't even notice him pulling out his phone and getting these photos until he tagged you in them. You just hope he doesn't have anymore photos of you that you didn't know about.

- Bachira is without a doubt obsessive, he gets giddy when you call him because he believes one of these days you'll wake up and realize you love him back just as much, only to be slightly dissapointed when you are merely calling him to discuss contract details. That's fine, though! One of these days you're going to have to face the reality that you two were meant to be together♡

- You're just like him after all! It's just that you want to dominate a different field than him. Your goals are similar, be the best that Japan has to offer, making sure that Bachira succeeds on and off the field helps ensure your own success, and while you didn't want to deal with his annoying behavior all the time; it'd be a foolish choice to quit working for him. You think that he knows that too because he'll always try to test the waters of your relationship, never really believing your threats of switching to a different player.

- Because even if you didn't love him, you needed him, just as he needed you. Surely you'll end up loving him back, though, after all: there was no one else in his eyes besides you. So he'll work hard to be the best, not just for Japan, but for you. Each goal he makes, he looks at you and sees the briefest smile on your face and it drives him wild the rest of the game to keep scoring and scoring.

- Don't think you've tamed the monster inside of him, though. Because it'll never be truly satisfied until it finally has you. All of you.

Shidou:

"Why're you buying flowers for that asshole?"

You felt a shiver go up your spine, feeling Shidou's sharp chin resting on your shoulder and feeling his warm breath on the back of your right ear, he was still a little sweaty from his daily drills and workouts...technically, he should've been working out still but his fitness coaches knew the moment you stepped into the room that he wouldn't be able to focus on anything but you.

"Technically, you're buying him flowers," You corrected, moving away from him. He raised an eyebrow but kept a deadpan face as you turned around to explain to him, "Shido, you're already controversial. You played way too hard and broke that man's ankle. Sending flowers is the least you could do."

Aw, give him some credit...he could've done a lot worse if he wanted too but he managed to restrain himself from doing that, all for you. Plus, it was entirely the other guy's fault anyways. That asshole was eyeing you up and down when you weren't looking and jokingly told Ryusei that he wished he had an agent that was as hot as you were instead of his current old and grumpy one. Shido knew he had the best things: the best cars, the best shoes, the best career a soccer player could ask for...but you were different. You were one of the things he had that made him the best, flipping his controversies into picturing him as this passionate player whose just motivated to represent his country, but you were meant for only him to admire. Everyone else is allowed to stare at you two with envy and jealously but that's ALL.

"I'm not sending him no damn flowers and neither are you." He scoffed, taking your phone from your hand and canceling the order. You frowned and tried to grab it back from him, he raised it above his head am to force you to reach for it and when you raised one arm and stood on both your tippy toes, he used his free arm to hook it around your waist and pull you close to him. Pining you against the wall, his pink eyes focused on you in a way that a predator would eye its prey.

"Quit thinkin' about some nobody player. You're MY agent."

- Before you, Shidou went through a lot of agents. Agents who quit on the spot because he was impossible to work with, agents who just stormed out of the doors because they couldn't take anymore, agents who still badmouth him to the public and feeding into his reputation.

- Then you walked in through those doors. Steely gazed, chin up and proud. You were cute, that's for sure, but you weren't gonna be any different then the rest of them. At least, thats what he had originally thought. You never lost your mind over the way he played, you never complained about how he was making your job impossible, and you never lost your cool.

- You were a professional at your job, you knew how to make him appeal to the audience and frame him in a better light while also making sure he didn't have to change too much...because he would never change. So you would work with what you had, how did the saying go? There's no such thing as bad publicity.

- Unlike Bachira, you just being there isn't gonna make him behave. If you're gonna make him do some lame ass photoshoot then he better be getting something out of it. At first it was just things like arranging a deal with a brand he liked, setting up a soccer match with some good players only for him to absolutely ruin them. He started to like you because of those things.

- However it escalated one day when he asked for something that took you off gaurd. A kiss. It was for an interview and he refused to let anyone touch him so they all ran crying to you, he instantly looked at you as you put a gentle hand on his shoulder and asked him what he wanted this time so you both could get through this.

- He didn't even really think about it either, he was a little shocked when he said it himself but he was just mesmerized by your lips that he wondered what it'd be like to kiss them. So he wanted to find out. You were flustered, rightfully so and tried to bargain with him but he was dead set on that kiss...oh well...it was one measly kiss. So you kissed his cheek and he frowned, not exactly what he wanted but you did give him what he wanted technically.

- But yeah, that just kinda sparked his obsession with you and his obsession isn't what you should be concerned about. It's his possessive nature, you work for him so you belong to him. He doesn't like you talking to other people most of the time, constantly grabbing your phone and hanging up important calls when the conversation goes somewhere he doesn't like or deems isn't as important as him.

- Shidou knows he doesn't love you but love isn't exactly on either of your radars since your focused on your career, which only does well as long as Shido's does well. It doesn't stop him from looking at you tying his tie for him, imagining you doing something more intimate than a mere kiss on the cheek, to take you out on fancy dates and buy you nice things and all the crap (he's tried before but you always refuse) and when he wakes up in the morning, he wonders how different it would be if you were next to him. He might love you but overall, it's a matter of possession. You belong to him. No one else.

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luveline · 8 months

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Hi jadeybabes!! Like everyone else I’m adoring the soulmate prince au and I’m wondering if we could have a peek into Steve’s thoughts and feelings about finding his soulmate after searching so long and rushing to a quick wedding even though they hardly know each other?

Like we’ve seen reader’s apprehension and insecurities mixed up with just how kind and pretty she thinks he is, and I’m wondering what’s going through Steve’s head? Love you!

hi lovely, love u ♡ prince!steve au fem, 1.2k

His private gardens are silent beyond the low hum of dragonflies zipping across the pond and the creak of his hammock. The old trees he's suspended between don't move an inch, but the netted fabric Steve lays on curls tight with every slow swing.

He can smell hyacinth where it grows at the perimeter of the bluegrass, and the fragrant cocoa of his hot chocolate steaming on the paving stones beneath him. There are a hundred beautiful things to savour out here in the evenings, but Steve can think about nothing but you. Your eyes, the timid sweet smile you give him when he's touching you. Your voice, and how you speak to him when you're alone.

Steve knows he's likely the only person fortunate enough in his entire kingdom to meet his soulmate when he desired it. Which isn't to say he didn't hold out hope when he was young, thinking one day he'd meet them, a diplomat's daughter or the child of a visiting King. He knows it was stupid to assume his soulmate would be another royal, but when you're a kid you believe what you're told.

"Well, of course she'll be educated," his mother would say, sitting two feet away at the dining table, an oyster spoon in hand. "Slight, well-mannered, quiet. You'll be king, so she'll need to be strong. She'll need to know how to take a beating."

Steve remembers thinking, Why? It's not as if I'll hit her.

It's still true, but he can guess what she meant: To be thrust into the spotlight and with little choice in the manner, you have to have a strong disposition. Steve can't not be a Prince. His soulmate can't not want to marry him. She'll need to buckle up.

He doesn't technically agree with his mother's thoughts back then, but he understands them. Steve believes you have much more choice in the manner, and he's dedicated to giving you that choice even if the wedding is being forced on you both. He wants to make this something you want too.

Sighing, Steve rakes a hand through his hair. He needs time to himself, without Robin or Munson and especially without his mother's lady's maids. Steve finds his days stolen and his time delegated, richocheting between government, education, fencing, fittings, toning, training. He can keep up. He doesn't mind. But without an hour alone every now and then, he'll explode.

He stretches out as much as the hammock allows with a frankly hideous groan. His neck and shoulders pop. What he really needs is an hour with the masseuse, Claire. Before Steve met you, he thought she was his soulmate. She has nice hands.

He hears you before he sees you, your footsteps on the pathway. He immediately sits up from the hammock with mild grace, standing in the grass with no idea where to put his hands.

He clasps them behind his back as you come into view.

"Hi, Steve," you say hesitantly.

He can't help it —he sees you and a smile splits his face. Trying not to come on too strong is out the window.

"Hi," he says. You've stopped a couple of feet away. The light of your soul mark is muted to near invisibility, tinged somewhere between pink and purple. It looks ethereal against your skin. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Uh, Robin said you'd be here. That they'd let me through."

"Only you," he says. He told them quite concisely that you're the single person permitted to interrupt his time alone.

"I can come back later."

"No, tell me what's wrong."

"It's… Why do you assume something's wrong?"

"Because you've willingly sought me out?" he asks with a well-meaning laugh.

It's the wrong thing to say. You shift from foot to foot, rubbing your palms together sheepishly. "I guess it was stupid. I'm sorry, you can, uh, you can go back to what you were doing. Sorry, Steve."

"Wait a second!" he says, though he drops his volume when you flinch. "Wait, no, don't– Don't leave, I didn't mean that you can't come and find me unless there's something wrong. I want to talk to you. Really badly. That's why I told them to let you in."

"About what?"

"About everything," he says.

You and Steve sit on one of the steps leading down to the fish pond. It's a beautiful feature with mirror clean waters and water lilies, their petals a quiet pink melding into sunshine orange. He points at it, his head inclined to yours.

"Nymphaea aurora," he murmurs. The water ripples, a darkening purple reflection of the sky as the sun sets. "They're bred for the colour specifically."

"Do you like those ones?" you ask him.

"I like all of them." He doesn't know how to explain how he feels, the dawning hope of being close to you, the magnetic tethering. "We could get different stuff if you wanted. It'll be your garden too, soon," he says, watching fondly as you draw your legs a touch closer and bend at the waist, hugging your thighs. "Are you tired?"

"Kind of, but I know you're busy tomorrow." You want to talk to him as much as he wants to talk to you. He tries hard not to feel smug.

"I'm really sorry. We shouldn't be separated right now, we should be spending the week together." It's a common phenomena. People meet their soulmates and disappear for days on end together, appearing later to beg forgiveness, cheeks aglow with joy. He wanted that with you. He wants whatever he can get.

Steve drops his voice to a whisper, bending at the waist to meet you eye to eye, "Do you want to run away with me tomorrow?"

You don't flinch, wince, or smile. Tentative, you whisper back, "You couldn't run away."

"Just for the day. We'll wear fake eyeglasses and sunhats and slip out in the morning when they change the guards. I've done it before."

"You have?"

"So many times. What do you think of that?"

"What would we do all day?" you whisper.

"Anything we want. Sneak into the opera house, eat dinner in the square from the food carts. We can finally get to know one another. Just you and me," he says softly.

Your tired smile tugs at the corners.

"Okay. Yeah, I want to go."

He reaches across the gap to stroke your cheek, a brisk, wanting line from the highest point to the skin shy of your jaw. In the evening dark, your face awash with the milky light of the appearing moon, you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen.

You laugh softly and turn your face away, shaking your head before sitting up altogether.

Steve sits up. "Then we'll go. But we should head to bed now, I'll have to wake you up in a few hours. They've started to expect my escape in the morning."

Steve walks you back to your room. He wants to kiss you goodnight, and there's a pause where he thinks about it before telling you goodnight. When your door closes behind you, he has to stop himself from knocking and asking if you want to leave now.

He's eager to get to know you, but you both have time.

#prince!steve au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things

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strawb3rry-acid · 2 months

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König and Social Anxiety

I just wanted too ramble a little bit about how I personally believe that König's social anxiety affects him, coming from someone who struggles with severe social anxiety. I've seen a bit of misconceptions in the past (though it seems to have died down now thankfully) about social anxiety, so I just wanted to give my own opinion. Per usual, this is fairly long lol ♡

This post is purely meant to analyse his social anxiety instead of his personality, and just talk a bit about social anxiety in general. If you hold different opinions that's completely okay. These are just my thoughts.

If you're struggling/have struggled mentally in any way, shape, or form please know that you are not alone. You're loved, accepted, heard, appreciated, and cared for. Keep going, you've got this. It'll all be okay, I promise 🫂

─ 𓆡𓆝𓆞𓆟𓆜𓆛 ─

So, for starters let me just get it out of the way that we, unfortunately, know practically nothing about König, or anything about the ways in which his social anxiety makes an impact on his life. The most when know when it comes to the latter would be the mentions that it's severe, likely developed due to his experiences with being bullied as a child, and that he likes to go unnoticed. Sure, we have voicelines, but I don't personally feel it captures clues as too how his social anxiety affects him. It eludes to his personality sure, but not so much his symptoms. I feel it's also important to mention that his disorder isn't his personality. It may have an affect on it of course, but it's not his personality.

Coming from someone who struggles with the same mental health condition I can be a completely different person in a place I feel I'm at my best in. Hell, sometimes it can seem nonexistent, but put me in a different situation, and it's nearly impossible too miss. In a military setting, König is definitely in his element. Not only is he in his element, but the military also provides structure, and consistency, which is very important when it comes to coping with any form of anxiety disorder, or any mental health condition in general.

I think it's important too mention as well that social anxiety isn't the same thing as being introverted, and/or shy. Does having it make it more likely for individuals too be introverted, and/or shy? Absolutely, but it doesn't always mean they will be. Social anxiety also doesn't mean that you don't like people. For many people it tends to mean that you're frightened about the negative possibilities when it comes to interacting with people. (For example, I love people, and I love getting to know people, but I'm often way to scared about humiliating myself/being judged to actually do it, so I usually I won't, and will avoid social events like the plague.)

I have no doubt in my mind that König feels like everyone has their eyes on him 24/7, and that they're somehow judging him in some way. Going off of his bio, I personally think the mentions that he was often bullied, and that he only found acceptance in fighting indicates that the bullying was likely on more of a severe scale. I doubt he found confidence in others very often, if at all, and really lacks skills in the socializing department.

He picks and chooses his words very carefully, and spends quite sometime practicing what he wants to say. He likely plans for every way the interaction could turn out, especially the worst case scenario. After the event, it'll be on his mind for quite some time as he replays it over and over again in his head, searching for any clues that he made them uncomfortable/embarrassed himself all while beating himself up for not saying/doing something better.

When he's not a blood thirsty, loud, human battering ram on the field I think he's very quiet, and is the type of person to stick to a wall, or the corner of a room. He's very observant of the people around him, and will try to be alone as much as possible to avoid any stress. When coworker's try to approach him, especially if it's unprompted, then he's very short with them. Of course, this makes him come off as rude, which I don't think he's trying to be most of the time. He's just nervous, and wants to be left alone so it doesn't show to other people. Plus he's very awkward, and doesn't want too risk saying the "wrong" thing that could result in him being judged/humiliated. Especially if he hasn't had the time to plan what he wants to say.

I do think he does feel bad when he behaves that way towards someone with genuinely good intentions, and who just wants to get to know him better, but he isn't too sure how to handle it if it comes out of nowhere. He tries, but he's not very good at it most of the times. He's polite enough, he's just very awkward which tends to come off as him being standoffish, and his discomfort tends to get misinterpreted as him being an ass. He's usually bad with words, and people overall which results in him being probably a fairly isolated man.

I think that when he's on leave, and out living the average civilian life is when it presents itself. He's expected to act a fairly different way when compared to how he acts on the job, and is completely out of his element. I think he's very different with civilians than he is with the people he works with. He knows that he really intimidates them, especially women and children, and tries his best to make himself appear as less frightening as possible. His tone is likely more hushed, his face is more soft, and he tries not too be as short as he is with coworkers. Kinda backfires though in some ways as he can come off as sounding very serious unintentionally, which makes him feel like a dick.

I think it's important to mention again that his social anxiety is specified as being severe which means it heavily impacts his life. Does that mean that he doesn't know how to cope with it, or live a fairly normal life? Of course not, but it still majorly effects him even if it doesn't show outwardly. There's likely some things he simply can't/won't do often, or at all due to his social anxiety. These thing's probably involve big social events, and instances where all focus is soely on him. Combine those two together, and you have a situation he'd never willingly put himself in.

He probably does have panic attacks. He probably will sweat, blush, stutter, and show other physical symptoms of anxiety in high stress situations that he can't escape from. I don't think this happens often (At least not in front of people. The last thing he'd want people to know is that he struggles with social anxiety in case it makes him a target.), but it most likely does happen. I want to mention this because I think it's important to talk about, but I've seen some people bring down other's for including symptoms of König's anxiety in their writing, and it's really disheartening.

He may be an intimidating, middle aged mountain of a military man, but he still had feelings. He's still a human being, not a complete monster. He's not going to start a random verbal/physical altercation with a random person that hasn't started anything with him to try to bring them down. I personally think, just like most of the other characters, he's a normal guy when not on the job.

#cod mw2 #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw3 #modern warefare ii #modern warfare #modern warefare 2 x reader #cod #mw 2023

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madelynraemunson · 9 months

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CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

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

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

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.

#Spotify #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things 5 #hellfire club #Eddie munson fan fiction #Eddie munson fics

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dawndelion-winery · 2 years

Text

Get Lucky

Meeting the god of luck (you)

Ft. Arlecchino, Capitano, Childe, Dottore, Pantalone

Arlecchino:

Her loyalty lies wherever she most benefits from it

Which is why she reveres you so, the one god who could enable her endeavours regardless of what they were by granting her good fortune

So she was exhilarated at the prospect of meeting you in person

She makes sure she has her usual offerings prepared, along with some extra, since she'll have the opportunity to hand them to you herself instead of relying on an altar

Despite maintaining her usual stature, there's a clear excitement in her body language

Her eyes widen when you motion for her to come closer, hesitantly stepping towards you, as though she's unsure if she's allowed this proximity

I hope you don't mind being stared at, because she's observing you very keenly as any devout worshipper would, trying to gauge your reaction to each of her offerings

Which of course, means she'll take note of any preferences you mention in passing

That includes if you mention preferring homemade meals

Suddenly the orphanage chefs are met with a very eager Arlecchino in full chef's attire ready to cook up a buffet for her beloved god

Capitano:

Luck can be crucial on the battlefield, which is why he finds himself frequenting your shrines and altars every so often, hoping you'll keep him and his soldiers alive

And he truly does believe in your strength, with the number of close calls he's had

It's because of that that he likes to think he's one of your favourites

So meeting you in person? He's nothing short of chivalrous

He offers to escort you wherever you need to go

It's one of the ways he can thank you apart from prayers and offerings

He also hopes that in spending time with you, a bit of your luck would brush off onto him

He's also not quite as shy as Arlecchino in his devotion, so he'll ask you what you think of the gifts he prepares for you and change them accordingly

He also absolutely does that kiss on your knuckles to show respect

Childe:

Unless you're one of the deities of Snezhnaya, you aren't of much importance to Childe

That is until his little siblings tell him about how you answered their prayers, granting them bits of luck in exchange for their little offerings of candy and old toys

That's when he starts to think it might be a good idea to have you protect his family too

When you meet him, it suddenly becomes clear why you've received so much seafood the past few months

Because he greets you with more fish and trinkets he gets from beating mobs up

He knows what the Tsaritsa wants from him, since she's his boss, but you? Not so much, which means he offers you whatever he can

Mora? He knows Zhongli appreciates it, so maybe you will too. Confectionery? The god of eternity seems to like them

But of course, he knows that you aren't them, hence the trinkets and fish

To which you'll have to explain that you don't need that much fish, especially since whatever he catches for you tends to range from massive to obscenely humongous

He does look sad when you tell him that, because he thinks it means you aren't happy with his offerings but continued to bless him and his family anyway

He's even worse when you comfort him though, because he takes it as his sign to try again

Which means observing what most of your worshippers offer up and one upping them by getting you something of a higher grade, or more

You can't even tell him to stop unless you want to crush his proud little smile

Dottore:

For someone who thinks so lowly of gods, he prays to you a suspicious lot

It's not like he has much of a choice though, since he finds his tests turn out more successful when he leaves you a little something every so often

A small price to pay for success, he supposes

Now, since you're so busy with everyone's desire for good fortune, you don't really know Dottore's notoriety

So you're quite curious about the strange fellow who leaves you with strange elixirs you don't dare consume every Monday in exchange for splashes of luck throughout the week

And when he finds that you're curious about his experiments upon meeting you?

Good luck to you

It's like he's talking to an investor, his biggest sponsor, about his work so you'll keep supporting him (in a way, you sort of are)

A part of him wants to hear you praise his genius and insist that he could've done it without your blessing, but at the same time he doesn't want you to think he doesn't need you and have you stop blessing him

So how does he counter that? The same way he got funding from the academia

"Now I can guarantee you, with my genius and just a smidge of your luck, that's all I'm asking for, I could turn these hilichurl corpses into bioweapons. No, I know what you're thinking, that sounds impossible, but not in my lab-"

Smile and nod, your full attention is all it'll take to please him when he gets like this

Pantalone:

He has a very love hate relationship with you because sometimes he forgets to head down to give you an offering before certain business ventures and they're hit by all sorts of misfortune

Now he acknowledges that you aren't obligated to give him luck when he hasn't "paid" for it, but he really finds it inconvenient

So when he meets you he's going to convince you to start a tab for him

Just constantly bless his work so he strikes gold every time, and he'll pay you your offerings + interest at the standard rate they've got going

You can try to explain to him that's not how it works, but he's pretty dead set on convincing you

"This might sound unconventional, I know, or maybe the interest rate among mortals is insufficient to you? I understand the fortune you bestow upon your worshippers can't be bought with gold, but perhaps you could suggest a rate that might tempt you to make an exception for me?"

He is not above trying to seduce a god if it means he'll get a massive profit from it

Not so subtly slips his jacket off his shoulders, leaning his elbow on a table as he props his head up in one hands, eyeing you with that purposeful, scheming look

It's up to you whether you'll entertain his little business proposal

Taglist[send an ask to be added/removed]: @myluvkeiji @pluvioseprince @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @loverofthe-stars @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @heizours @codename-hiraeth @andreiling01 @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @diorprison @cxlrosii

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jovialmoonprincess · 5 months

Text

AU: Journey to Redemption (Part 5)

The Storm Within

Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

First Part. / The Winter Ball / Champagne Problems / Frost and Thorns / The Storm Within

Summary: Y/N, a young idealist in Panem, dreams of making a difference in a post-war society. As the winner of the prestigious Plinth Prize is about to be announced, a mysterious woman unveils a grim fate for Coriolanus Snow, Y/N's nemesis. Offered a chance to alter destiny, Y/N must navigate her conflicting emotions and intervene in pivotal moments to prevent Snow's descent into darkness. The story unfolds against the backdrop of complex relationships, past connections, and the challenges of a changing world, as Y/N grapples with the responsibility of shaping an unexpected destiny and challenging the very fabric of fate.

Warning(s): None, enemy to lovers, back in time, destiny, Snow being in love, Snow being Snow, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

A/N: I'm on Wattpad now too, click here to read and vote there: WATTPAD

Y/N was furious; each accelerated beat of her heart echoed her indignation. The news of betting on tributes, Arachne being beheaded on camera, the snakebites on Clemensia, and the final blow was the information that they had bombed the arena with Coriolanus inside. Determined to confront Coriolanus, she relentlessly sought him, even reaching the boy's apartment, a place she had never visited before.

The boy opened the door with wet hair, his chest still exposed with bandages. Y/N couldn't help but notice, especially because Snow was much taller than her. His hair dripped, and droplets ran down his torso. She couldn't help but notice his imposing height and the sight of his wet body. That only made her angrier because, despite everything, he still exerted some kind of attraction over her.

"I've been looking for you," Y/N exclaimed, her voice laden with anger.

"I just came back from the hospital, I'm alive," Coriolanus spoke as if everything were under control, trying to maintain composure but failing to completely hide his anxiety. "I'm getting ready to see Lucy Gray shortly. If you could excuse me…" He was about to close the door when Y/N stopped him, entering his apartment.

Without hesitation, Y/N lunged at Coriolanus, her weak blows against his chest unable to affect the boy but revealing the intensity of her frustration. His warm skin matched Y/N's fury.

"You idiot!" Tears glistened in her eyes. "I can't believe you have the nerve to tell me this! Arachne is dead, Clemensia is poisoned, and when I saw the explosion live, I thought the worst had happened. And you dare to keep thinking about the games? You have no soul?" She was furious with the boy. "Why do you still participate in this?" Y/N demanded, her voice laden with disappointment.

Coriolanus laughed in denial, spitting out words full of resentment. "Y/N, I'm not Sejanus, okay? I know you wanted me to be, and I would too, but I'm not. Arachne is dead, Clemensia is poisoned, and Lucy Gray… well, that's another horrible story. I doubt she'll make it to the Games, and maybe it's even better."

"I don't want you to be like him, Coriolanus. In fact, I don't know why you have this fixation on the boy. He's lost, he's afraid just like you."

"If you came here to talk about him, Y/N, you can leave." He pointed to the door.

"You need to get over this one-sided rivalry with him, Coriolanus."

"Sejanus usurped my position, inheritance, clothes, food, and the privilege due to a Snow. Now he's trying to take my apartment, my place at the University, my own future, and had the audacity to resent his luck in getting the best tribute. I even believe he wants to date you." This thought he had never shared with anyone. It was very intimate.

Y/N was astounded, shocked by the information spilled by the boy. Despite having the height and appearance of a man, he had feelings as petty and low as a child.

"Corio, I know you've never shared this with anyone. But these thoughts and this anxiety don't suit you. I won't judge how you feel, but I want to reassure you that these feelings are unfounded. You need to think better, calmly. About what is real or not."

"Stop with the therapy, Y/N. You're making me feel like garbage." The boy tried in every way to avoid the girl's gaze.

"Maybe because you're acting like a jerk."

"You just assaulted me, came to my house to hit me, and you're still offending me with words. I could call the police." My God, this boy was 10 years old.

"Darling, I used all my strength, and you didn't even feel it." He laughed for a moment, but soon his serious demeanor returned. "If I wanted something with Sejanus, I would have had it already. Also, because I'm single." She spoke sincerely, showing her hand with no ring. "But I don't like him that way." The girl approached him.

"Don't go, I don't know what to do for you not to go." She felt a tightness in her chest, and tears returned to illuminate her eyes. "You can't win the Games, Coriolanus. You can't."

He was afraid, didn't know who he could trust. He could have been stung if Clemensia had written the proposal in his place, and if Lucy Gray hadn't come back to help, he would have died in the arena fire. He hid his head in his hands, confused, angry, and, more than anything, afraid. Afraid of Dr. Gaul. Afraid of the Capitol. Afraid of everything. If the people who should protect him played so easily with his life, how was it possible to survive? Not by trusting them, that was for sure. And if you couldn't trust them, who could you trust? Impossible to know.

"Don't you see, Y/N? Lucy Gray saved my life, and I need to help her win. She needs me. My family needs me. This is an opportunity for us, a chance to get out of this difficult life. I can't ignore that." For the first time, real emotions appeared on Coriolanus's face, as if he were, indeed, fearing the consequences of his actions.

Coriolanus ran his hand through his blond hair, frustrated. "I can't change the system alone. But maybe, if I'm in there, close to the power, I can make a difference. I can change things."

"Promise me that when you win the games, you'll protect Sejanus. Please. Promise me."

The boy was confused; what did Sejanus have to do with the story?

"It seems like you're sure I'm going to win the games," he said irritably. "Because you're so concerned about Sejanus? Doesn't my life matter?" It was never about him, Coryo.

"The problem, Coryo, is that you were the only person who appeared in all the visions, alive, well. Not Sejanus, not me, not even Lucy Gray. It was never about Sejanus, it was about you. I don't want you to become someone despicable." Y/N thought.

"I trust in your ability to survive; you're a Snow above all else. Sejanus is your friend; there has never been a reason to worry about him. Don't think of him as your rival; think of him as a loyal friend." Y/N was so close to the boy she could smell the roses and mint from his toothpaste. "I don't want to lose you, Coryo." She rested her forehead against his. "It's not about Sejanus; it's about you. It has always been about you." Her lips touched his. This kiss was more urgent, like a last kiss. It seemed that both would waste time if they stopped to breathe. Coryo's large hands guided the kiss, and their bodies pressed together as if struggling to be in the same place. Y/N placed her hands on the boy's bare chest and could feel his heart beating at an impossible speed. She didn't want to stop the kiss, didn't want to leave, didn't want to let him go. She wanted to keep him there forever. With her.

Coryo gradually guided Y/N to the sofa, lying on top of her. The kiss was more than just a meeting of lips; it was a fusion of souls, a desperate search for comfort amid the chaos. He didn't intend to do anything beyond the kiss, but he wanted more and more. The girl messed up Coryo's hair with her fingers and made sounds of approval during the kiss. It was as if the two of them fit together like two pieces in a puzzle.

Y/N's body was on fire. Coryo didn't even remember there was a war outside. He could only think about how small and defenseless the girl seemed in his arms, completely surrendered to him.

"You're mine," he whispered in her ear, making her whole body shiver.

"Come back to me, Coryo. Fight, struggle, but in the end, come back to me."

With another kiss, Coriolanus silenced Y/N, and after a few seconds, they separated. Y/N returned to her apartment, hoping that her words and the heat of the moment had touched Coriolanus, prompting a profound reflection on his actions and choices.

_____________________________

Just wanted to drop a quick note to say a massive thank you for all the love, likes and comments on my story. <3

THIS ONE IS MY FAVORITE CHAPTER

Taglist: @shari-berri @h-l-vlovesvintage @tea-bobba @daenerysqueenofhearts @commanderfreethatdust @glxzillx

TAGLIST AND REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!!

#the hunger games #tbosas #angst #angst with a happy ending #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #enemy to lovers #fem reader #president snow #tom blyth #coryo snow #lucy gray baird #tbosbas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #josh andres rivera #snow #tigris snow

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zeroducks-2 · 8 months

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This is quite random sorry but has Dick ever acknowledge (or as close to it) that a lot of things that Bruce did to him are abusive? (this is for a fic I’m trying to write)

Yes and no!

Dick knows Bruce is an assholes and WILL yell at him to stop being an asshole, or at least he used to. Dick would call him out on his BS and wouldn't let him get away with a lot of things, but this was once upon a time, before they rebooted everything and erased decades of character development. The closest he gets to that post reboot is after Forever Evil - everyone thinks Dick is dead, and Bruce wants people to keep thinking that, hence he forces Dick to join Spiral and become Agent 37.

Dick is, as you can imagine, not thrilled. He yells and fights and Bruce beats the everloving shit out of him in a very upsetting sequence, where Dick is half naked and Bruce is wearing most of his gear while he keeps hitting him to the point of leaving him bleeding on the floor of the Batcave.

Dick begs and tries to appeal to everything he can including the "things can never be the same between us after this", to which Bruce essentially replies that it's a sacrifice he's willing to make. Ha. I say that this is especially upsetting because Dick went through a horribly traumatic experience during the events of Forever Evil, in which among other things he was tortured by Thomas Wayne Jr AKA Owlman, who wanted to turn Dick into his own sidekick after losing his Talon. The way Bruce beats and humiliates Dick is drawn in a way which creates a clear parallel between Thomas and Bruce's actions towards Dick, in a way that suggests they're "not that different after all", but this narratively goes nowhere and I don't get why they fuck they even came up with that. But anyway.

All of this gets forgotten soon enough. Despite his own warnings Dick forgives Bruce after a very short time, pines for home and tries to communicate with Bruce in any way he can because he "misses his dad", which to be honest made my guts churn and my bile rise after Bruce nearly beat him comatose. Essentially the story forgets Bruce did all of that and so does Dick, but for the brief time Dick was allowed to be aware of it and angry about it, he was indeed aware that he was being abused even if he never used the word abuse.

This is the case for lots of stories in which similar instances happen, as I mentioned before especially pre-reboot. Dick does call Bruce out on his bullshit - especially if Bruce is being an abusive asshole to someone else, since Dick is way more prone to defend other people than he is to defend himself, like here

or here

But despite being obviously aware that there are issues in the way Bruce does things, to put it mildly, he never uses the word "abuse" (which is sort of a prohibited word for DC standards, kind of like "rape". They're way more likely to say non consensual than rape because it's a less upsetting word apparently).

There is an instance of this post reboot, and it's during a conversation Dick has with Tim. I believe it happens in the Pride comics of 2022, but I don't have the panels on hand at the moment. Basically Tim asks for advice on how to please Bruce, being the man demanding and prone to bad moods, and Dick flat out replies "I spent a very big part of my life trying to please him, and I left when I realized it was impossible" which to me is so interesting since it's the textbook reaction of a former Golden Child who fell from grace and became a Scapegoat (please note that tumblr's definition of Golden Child is completely arbitrary; golden child doesn't mean "good kid", it means a child who the parent holds to the highest standards, on which there are the biggest expectations and the strongest pressure regarding everything the child does. Sometimes a parent lives vicariously through them and perceives them as an extension of themselves, but not necessarily. If you watched Encanto, Isabella is the Golden Child of the family).

Something similar happens during Nightwing's run from the 90s.

Dick lives in Bludhaven and at this point he's gone essentially no-contact with Bruce. Tim, being the new Golden Child, is trying to reel Dick back into the toxic dynamic because he genuinely thinks it's going to be good for both Dick and Bruce.

I'm pointing this out not to fault Tim in any way, he's just a kid what does he know, but to show you that indeed yes, Dick is aware that he's been abused otherwise he wouldn't have left, he wouldn't be on a no talking basis with his parental figure, and he wouldn't reply to Tim that he spent so much time of his life deluding himself into thinking that Batman actually needed him. Of course this also goes nowhere and their relationship isn't allowed to grow or heal (things are just conveniently forgotten after a while), but as I mentioned, Dick knows what's up.

That being said, I believe it's also worth noting that many many times Bruce abuses the fuck out of Dick and Dick doesn't really acknowledge it, just takes it. Sometimes he doesn't have the spoons to fight back, sometimes he thinks he deserves it, sometimes he just doesn't know how to react because Bruce strikes like an unprovoked viper (this happens especially when Dick was still a kid but already a Titan). A very good example of this is what happens after Jason's death.

Bruce doesn't tell Dick that Jason died. When Alfred offers to let him know, Bruce says "I will handle it", and he doesn't. Then there's Jason's funeral and Bruce doesn't tell Dick about it, again Alfred offers to inform him, Bruce says he will handle it. He doesn't.

Eventually Dick finds out for collateral reasons and has an emotional breakdown in front of the other Titans, which are powerless to help him. For reference, this is how he reacts when he has definitive proof that the boy is undoubtedly gone, if there was any doubt that Dick did care about Jason.

So Dick goes to the grave with Kory but then decided to confront Bruce alone, and Bruce, in the abusive feat of the century, blames Dick for not having showed up to Jason's funeral, despite having refused to 1: tell him about Jason's death AT ALL, and 2: refused TWICE when Alfred very gently suggested to inform Dick.

Dick of course argues that he didn't know anything, and so Bruce reacts by gaslighting him, telling him they he never cared about Jason and in fact he was angry that Bruce adopted Jason and not him. Which is not true, Dick just wanted to know WHY Bruce adopted Jason and hot him. Oh and also punches him in the face when Dick tries to argue that Jason was an untrained kid. Please note that when all of this happens, Dick is hurt and can barely stand on his feet, having one of his legs in a cast.

Cherry on top, Bruce explicitly saying that he never should have had a partner and never will again, essentially "our partnership up to this point meant nothing".

In this instance Dick is too neck-deep in his own self guilt to see that he's been through a sequence of extremely abusive behavior, and never really faults Bruce for that, using the easy-coming rationalization that Bruce was in pain, suffering for Jason's death, couldn't see reason etc etc (quick PSA: someone suffering isn't entitled to abuse and gaslight anyone. And even if we really want to enable Bruce cut Bruce some slack because he was grieving, it doesn't make his behavior any less abusive. Regardless of the reasons why, the way he acts here is very damaging towards Dick who in turn did nothing to deserve it, and is grieving Jason too).

See, the problem with Dick and Bruce is the sysyphean nature of comicbooks. Dick is doomed to be the original Golden Child who falls from grace, becomes the Scapegoat, but ultimately can never be completely free of the clutches of the relationship he has and had with Bruce, for better or worse. And since he can't ever truly get out and can't ever completely be independent, the abuse end up getting downplayed. If Dick never truly gets away from Bruce it's because it's not that bad, isn't it? Nay, it's because Dick cant. He is quite literally not allowed to, same as Bruce is not allowed to truly grow from his mistakes and learn to treat his former partner, sort-of-child and dear friend with the respect and love he actually feels for him, because despite all of this and because this is fiction, Bruce does love Dick more than it can be put into words and would set the world on fire for him. But, alas, he also is doomed to keep treating Dick like shit and never really learn from his mistakes.

So again, the answer to your question is yes and no. Dick is aware of how much of a difficult person Bruce is. He's aware of the domineering aspects of his personality. But he will ultimately brush it off in the name of the good that there is and there was between them, and he will keep answering Batman's call every time, because he's not allowed to ever truly grow apart from him. It doesn't matter how much he gets angry and how much Bruce hurts him, they're indissolubly tied in this dynamic and unless there is a huge shift in the way DC execs handle things, I don't see how this dynamic can change in the foreseeable future. Sadly enough, because I'd really like to see something new.

#long post #I tried to be as exhaustive as I can but of course I missed TONS of other instances which could have been used as examples #I hope you can make use of my analysis anyway #good luck with your fic btw!#feel free to leave me a link for it once you're done - no pressure tho!#and thanks for asking ♥#my asks #my meta #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #cw abuse in fiction

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iliketangerines · 1 month

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Do you write for Havik or Rain? I just barely see any fanfics of them and since ur an MK writer, I am taking the chance.

Could you write Earthrealm Champion! Reader with either Havik or Rain? Like some enemies to lovers tension going on... You don't have to write them if you don't want to though, I just wish they had more content.

sweet as wine

a/n: god knows i need more content for the both of them as well.

pairing: rain x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), creampies

Rain didn’t like you all too much

you also had water magic and when you had bested him in kombat because he foolishly believed that a human wouldn’t be able to beat the high mage of outworld…

well, safe to say, he felt humiliated

even more so when you had stuck your tongue out at him like som petty child and then put your hand up and flipped up your middle finger

he wasn’t sure what it meant but judging by Raiden’s disappointed glare, he knew it was some sort of insult

he sits across from you in the dining hall while you chat with the others about something on Earthrealm, and he scoffs at you when you say you had learned some water tricks when you were younger

you glance at him at his sound, but you just shoot him a glare before continuing with how you first learned flashy tricks as a dancer before switching to kombat

the next few days are torture having to sit next to you and listen to your stories

he tries to one-up you with his own stories about the decades he spent learning mastering the art of water magic, and yet you always seem to do better than him

you wielded magic younger, you learned it faster, you fought better with the water than he did, and it infuriated Rain to no end

even worse, he was always stuck next to you because two water magic users theoretically should get along with each other, but Rain held nothing but envy towards you

and yet, despite all that, you were always somewhat cordial with him, letting the smallest hints of frustration shine through when he grumbled something derogatory about Earthrealmers

but, you still stuck by him closely and traveled with him around the palaces and the village outside, and he eventually stopped mumbling insults at you and started seeing who you really were

he couldn’t deny that you were beautiful, especially in the soft glow of the lanterns while smiling at him

you bought him food and desserts from the vendors and asked him to explain it all to you about the food, and he found himself day after day finding joy in watching your face light up when he explained the cultural treats and snacked on them

and then he had gone and betrayed the empire and flooded Seido with water, too blinded by his ambition, and he had come back to court begging for forgiveness and to be punished for his actions

and then you were there, defending him to try and better himself as a person rather than be locked up to rot for the rest of his life

Rain felt his heart thump at the sight of you fighting for him, and he knew he was a goner

he spent his days bettering himself with you by his side, teaching him all the tricks you had learned, and he did the same for you

sometimes, some of the old banter would come back, insults flying at each other, but now it was underlined with a hint of playfulness, a hint of flirting

or maybe it was all in his head

and now, he sat with you on the balcony of the training pits, moon high in the sky, as you both drank some sweet outworld alcohol and regaled each other with tales of learning and failing certain water magic

you laugh as he tells you he had been trying to make a ball of water float over to him when he first learned magic but it had ended with puddles on the floor and a mop to clean it all up

you slap his shoulder and lean in close, not quite believing that the high mage of outworld couldn’t even manage to float a simple ball of water

Rain rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but focus on the way your hand is so warm on his shoulder

he takes another sip of his drink and tells you that you couldn’t have been perfect at wielding magic at first as well, and you smile and giggle

you tell him about how the first time you had wielded water magic, you had gotten mad at your mom for something frivolous and the sink in the kitchen had exploded during your tantrum

Rain doubles over in laughter, and he doesn’t realize how close he is to you until he opens his eyes and finds your face just a few inches from his

your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips, and his heart thumps in his chest

if he just leaned in a little closer, he would be kissing you

he whispers at you to tell him to stop if you get uncomfortable, and he raises a hand up to cup your face

you lean into the touch, and he dips his head down low to press a soft and quick kiss to your lips

you smile at him when he pulls back and ask with a smirk if that’s all he can do, you would’ve thought a mage with decades more experience would be more bold

Rain rolls his eyes and grabs onto the lapels of your shirt and smashes your lips together

you groan into the kiss and slide into his lap to try and get closer, and Rain presses his tongue into your mouth, desperate to taste all of you

you let him in, and you cup the back of his neck as your hips slowly grind into him

Rain can feel himself getting hard underneath you, and you seem to know it to because your other hand comes down and palms at his dick

he groans and pulls away to admire you

your chest is heaving, your lips are glossy, and your cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and the kiss earlier

Rain asks if you want to go further, and you jump up and drag him to his feet and tell him to take you to his bedroom

he smiles and quickly whisks you away to his bedroom, but it’s not quite so subtle with the way your giggles and his laughs echo in the high palace hallways and how your footsteps stumble all about the marbled floors

but finally, the two of you reach his bedroom, and he leads you to his humble bed

you fall onto the bed on your back, and Rain crawls onto the bed and kisses you again, weight atop of you and pressing his clothed cock into your hips

Rain grinds into you and moans into your mouth while his hands paw at your clothing clumsily, fingers not quite as deft with the alcohol running in his veins

you taste so sweet for him, and you can’t seem to get enough of him either with the way your hands claw at his clothes

the two of you pull apart, and Rain’s not quite sure what to do next honestly

but it seems you’re not too sure either because the two of you just lay on the bed, breaths mingling as your chests heave

Rain asks if you’ve ever done this before, and you let out a sigh of relief and say that you thought you were the only one

you then prop yourself up on your elbows and say you would’ve thought that since he’s so old that he would’ve had at least some experience

he ducks his head as his cheeks warm and says he was too busy focused on his studies to try and get with anyone

you laugh at him and call him a nerd, and he scowls at you

but you stop laughing eventually and wipe away a tear and say let’s take it slow

Rain nods and kisses you sweetly, before you pull away and say to get those damn robes off him, you want to see him in all his glory

he blushes at your lewd words, but when you start undressing as well, revealing your plush chest and toned legs underneath the uniform, Rain hurries to undress as well

the two of you throw your clothes onto the floor, and the both of you trace each other’s bodies with your fingertips

Rain can feel himself getting harder as your hands lightly brush over his arms, his chest, his stomach

and he can feel your impatience as well with the way you squirm underneath his warm hands squeezing your chest and your thighs

he kisses you again, leaning overtop of you, and you wrap your legs around his waist and grind your pussy against his cock

he moans into your mouth at the feeling of your wet pussy sliding against his, and he reaches a hand down to line himself up and push into you

you whine at the stretch and tell him to slow down, you need to adjust

little tears well at the edges of your eyes as you pant, and Rain peppers light little kisses over your face as he stays buried inside of you

he moans into your skin at the feeling of your warm wet cunt around his cock, but he keeps his hips still as he lets you adjust to the stretch

finally, you let out a whimper for him to move, and he gives an experimental thrust

you let out a little whine and throw your head back as you dig your nails into his back, and Rain groans at the feeling of your pussy tightening around him

his thrusts are slow and shallow at first, but as your whine grow needier, Rain’s thrusts gets faster and rougher until he’s fucking into you roughly

his hips make a wet slapping sound as they meet yours and bumps into your clit, sending little stars bursting through your vision

you moan as Rain re-angles his hips and his tip bullies against your sweet spot

your whimpers grow louder, and you scratch angry red lines into Rain’s back as he groans into your ear

you’re so tight and warm for him, and the little pleas you let out as he fucks into you has his mind spinning with pleasure

he captures your lips in a kiss, and you moan into his mouth as your cunt clamps down on him and you cum

Rain whines into your mouth, and his hips stutter as he cums inside of you

he lets his seed empty into your wet pussy and kisses you until you’re both breathless again

finally, he pulls out, and he lays down beside you

you can feel his cum dripping out of you, but you can’t really find it in yourself to care as Rain brings you close to his plush chest

you look up at him, and you can’t help yourself as you tell him that he didn’t do so bad for a old man

Rain scowls down at you and reaches his hand down to give a playful smack to your ass, and you wiggle your eyebrows at him, telling him jokes on him you liked that

Rain smiles and tells you next time, and you laugh and cuddle up next to him

the both of you fall asleep quickly, close together and in each other’s warmth

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phantombstone · 6 months

Text

OFF THE MASK! | GHOST X READER

You've been trying to take off his mask for some time. You're so curious to see his features that you constantly ambush him - but of course he beats you on time, giving you an eye roll in addition and commenting on the lack of preparation behind your attacks.

Genre: Fluff, crack.

TW: None.

WC: 1704.

The plan was actually really simple: you stand on a chair right behind the entrance door, he enters, you jump on him, he's surprised, you grab his mask, he's still confused, you pull away the mask, take a quick look at his face and then run for dear life hoping he doesn't catch you.

As simple as children's ambushes, but much more dangerous.

And you firmly believed you could fool his grumpy stoic ass, you really did.

But no. There was no way the great, invincible Ghost could be unmasked by you or anybody else against his personal will.

You had to admit that, too, at a certain point. But it hurt your pride. Especially since your plan was going so smoothly... until he appeared, that's it.

You heard him fiddling with the keys in the lock, so you got ready behind the door, climbing onto the chair that you had already positioned where you needed it and prepared yourself to jump on him as soon as he entered.

He opened the door, taking a single step inward and bending to the ground not even half a second later - but you had already jumped.

"Sly fox, dumb bunny", he said with his chiseled British accent, getting back on his feet.

"Oh, shut up".

The worst thing - that crushed your pride even more - was the fact that he not only avoided your flying attack, but also managed to catch you before your body hit the ground, resulting in you getting hurt. What a damn gentleman...

You could feel him smirking under his balaclava. He was literally radiating victory vibes, and you, drowning in defeat, deeply hated it.

"Simon Riley, you're a fucker", you grunted under your teeth.

"If you really want to see my face, just plan better your moves. Don't skip the details like you always do", he said like nothing. "But don't feel too bad when you fail. At this, at least". And with that, he entered the building and disappeared down the halls in search of food, openly declaring that he was "fucking hungry" and needed a "fucking shower".

You thought about ambushing him another time - the second, that day, even if it wasn't your personal record - just after his shower. You would have silently waited for him to exit the blurred box in a cloud of steam covered by a towel, given him a look and then you would have disappeared without even being noticed.

But he knew it. The bastard knew it.

He was waiting for you, and as soon you opened the door of the bathroom, he was there with the movable shower hose in hand, pointed towards you. He turned the water on to full power and smiled. Again, you didn't see it, but he smirked. And it was a smirk of pure evil, you felt it. His dark eyes were expressing all his proud cockiness.

"Pervert", he commented.

You were shocked, but he was clearly having fun.

At that point, you didn't even care anymore about the water. You just charged straight towards him trying to save what could be saved and he dropped the hose, ready to catch you and cage you in his arms - which he did before you could even just grab an inch of his mask.

You shook your legs and entire body but he didn't let you go. In fact, he lifted you bodily and let out a pleased sound.

"Come on, just take the damn mask off!", you said arching your back like a misbehaved, possessed child.

"No way".

"Ghost!", you shouted, your voice full of rage of defeat, and he chuckled.

He carried you out of the bathroom and put you down right in front of the door, then he told you with his typical sarcastic tone "Restrain yourself, I'm still too shy for you to join me" while walking back and shutting the door behind him. This time you heard the click of the lock.

Your cheeks were burning. And you were soaking wet. A pool was forming under your feet, but you stayed there nonetheless. You were stunned and annoyed because if you told people how really Simon was, they would just give you the "are you sure?" look. But here he was. What a pain in the ass.

"Still hoping to enter?", he shouted from inside the bathroom. You could here the water falling from the hose now.

"Fuck you". And with that, you stepped away with your face and ears as red as blood.

That episode managed to keep you away from him for the rest of the evening and even the day after.

Days were just like that between you and him when you were both staying at the base. At times you were sent on a mission together, and in those moments you were practically the best and worst duo.

You knew when you could afford to play and joke and when to stay silent and serious, when you were free to try to kill each other and when you had to collaborate in extreme proximity.

You could be eachother's dearest companion or most awful enemy, there was no in between. And you borderline loved and hated it at the same time.

Some days after the routine returned to its normality: you trying to win against him, he who actually won every time.

Except one. But it was enough to end this whole cycle.

It wasn't a "real" victory since he just seemed to give up at a certain point, but you treasure that memory as a glorious triumph anyway.

On the day in question, you didn't attack him to try to uncover his face like you always did. In fact, the thought of apologizing to him had been brewing in your head for days. You even felt a little guilty towards him: he clearly didn't want to show himself, but you forced it anyway. Maybe it was time to put your childish side away.

And Simon, on the other side, who should have been happy about that, wasn't. He cared about you, a lot. If he didn't, you would have know at the very beginning of your first days together at the base. So why did he have to be so secretive towards you? He trusted you, so maybe he should have proven it better to you.

It was evening, just before a nocturne mission in which both you and Simon were involved; the whole team was making the final preparations but you and him were already ready to go. But there was something troubling the both of you and that something had to come out as soon as possible. It was weighing at the bottom of your stomach. What if the mission failed and you had no more possibilities to say it?

This time was dangerous. The whole team was meticulously prepared, but what if? Just, what if?

So you tried to catch his attention. His deep brown eyes were already looking at you. He was just about to ask you if you needed something when Soap called your names and told you to get into the truck because it was time to leave.

"What is it?", asked Ghost while walking towards the vehicle.

"Just wanted to say sorry for trying to uncover your face so many times. I realised it was rude of me", you said feeling the guilt arise, looking down.

He didn't give you a proper response, there was no time left. But his eyes were full of unspoken words. Unfortunately you didn't catch them right away.

He managed to tell you "Just try to make it out of this alive", though, which preannounced that you would have resumed the conversation once the mission was over.

Later that night, you found him bleeding right behind a corner of the building you had broken in. He would have made it, he wasn't deeply hurt, but you still worried. You immediately called for help and were told that they would have arrived at your location in about ten minutes.

You gave him first aid and then sat down next to him, loaded rifle in hand to defend yourselves from any enemies - even though they should all have been neutralized by then.

He put his head on your shoulder and you you tilted yours over his. You stared at the dirty floor for a while in silence, until he broke it.

"About before the mission...", he coughed in discomfort. "You don't have to be sorry. I should have proved you that I trusted you way sooner. In any case...".

He raised his head and brought his hand up to his throat. He grabbed an edge of his balaclava and raised it a little, then looked at you, who were following his moves with your eyes, in silence. You clearly wasn't expecting this from him.

"Maybe you want to do it", he said. You could see part of his lips now: they were curved in a slight smile. He took your hand and brought it to the same edge of the balaclava he was holding, grimacing at the pain of the wound, which grew stronger with every movement he made.

Before indulging him you made sure he was okay.

Then, you lifted his mask until - finally - his face was completely revealed.

You stared at him, dazed, not wanting to miss even a second of that mythical event. His facial features were marmoreal and soft at the same time. He was covered in old, pearly scars, but he was so beautiful. His blonde hair - him, a blonde? Who would have ever guessed? - was short, but still not as short as that of the rest of the military.

You had to compose yourself, your eyes were stuck on him and in his face it was starting to form that annoying smirk of his that you always perceived, even if you didn't see it. It was just like you had imagined, maybe a little worse in terms of nuisance.

"Like what you see?", he joked.

You coughed, re-emerging from the train of thoughts in your mind, and with the falsest tone of voice you tried to hide (miserably failing), you said "You look like a shrew".

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decolonize-the-left · 3 months

Note

Hi, I saw you other post and wanted to contribute to the discussion if that's cool.

I'm white, grew up middle class in the suburbs. My parents were both first generation immigrants. I grew up connected to their culture, their parents were Catholics from Northern Ireland who came to the US with their kids during the Troubles due to the violence there. But both of my parents were also pro assimilation; they taught me about my family history, but I wasn't meant to talk about it with others outside of our culture. I didn't understand that as a child, but I later learned that it's because they were afraid of being judged and were worried that it may decrease their social standing.

They are both conservatives, always voting red, and they constantly talk about how immigrants do harm and are terrible for this country to others, acting as though they themselves aren't the children of immigrants. Their parents fled violence and discrimination, yet they judge other people for doing the same. They see themselves as the exception. They're white, and see themselves as entitled to all of the benefits of that.

When I was in middle school, I started becoming aware of the contradictions present in the house I grew up in. I realised I was queer, I started experiencing more misogyny, and I started making friends and finding support in punk/anarchist spaces in my hometown. When I started to push back against my parents, I was met with anger and indignation. How are I not want what their parents "fought so hard" to get? Why couldn't I just accept the privilege and be happy with it? How could I find kinship and community outside of the spheres of whiteness? Why couldn't I just be cishet, and follow those rules to preserve my family's "dignity"?

What was especially crazy to me is that though they felt a "connection" to their Irish culture, the moment I began supporting Irish republicanism and Irish socialists/communists, I was suddenly a traitor. I was somehow a traitor for opposing the oppression that Britian wrought, entirely because I was applying that to other people. They want Ireland free from the British Empire, but they are against Landback in the US, Palestinian sovereignty, and other movements against colonialism arcoss the world. Basically - its not okay when they do it to us, but its okay when we do it to others. They also support kicking the brits out of Northern Ireland, but don't support the destruction of the capitalist policies that have hurt and killed thousands of people. Their people too!

When I got kicked out, I was taken in and supported by the punks, antifascists, anarchists, and communists of my community; a support that I had never seen before. The suburbs were always lonely, cut off from the rest of the town, and people there would rather die than ask others for help. The difference was insane. I'm broke now, disabled, uninsured, and struggling financially, but I have, like, actual friends. I have a community. We all pass the same $20 back and forth to each other to make ends meet, we pool money to buy things in bulk so we all have enough, we go all in on one Costco membership every year to make it easier. I have support here, even if I don't have the same degree of "comfort".

What I gathered from all this is that white immigrants and their children occupy a very weird place in American whiteness, especially those who came to this country fleeing poverty and/or violence. They're traitors to other immigrants, in thinking that they're somehow "more superior" due to their connection to whiteness. They're willing to throw anyone and everyone under the bus to further their own social standing. They feel especially entitled to it, believing that other white people just had it handed to them rather than having to fight for it, but are also terrified of other white people realising that. They put on a great show of whiteness in the hopes that being accepted into this group will makes them safer, while beating down others looking for safety.

I think Irish Americans are especially guilty of this, specifically Irish Catholics. They use the very real oppression and violence that their parent/grandparents faced to deflect from their own shittiness, while also keeping that under wraps around other white people, lest they be seen as less American.

The difference is insane. I don't know how they live like that, genuinely. They're so wrapped up in their privilege and their identity as white that they deprive themselves of real human connection. They beat others down with glee while exempting themselves from the same rhetoric.

I don't have a nice, clean end to this ask, this is more of a collection of observations than anything else. I think international solidarity is required to fix the problems in this world, but I genuinely don't know how to reach some of these people. They have a death grip on whiteness at the expense of their own humanity.

I never responded to this because I didn't know how or what to say; anon said it all already and there was nothing to add.

I am constantly thinking about the things being said here.

"we pass the same $20 back and forth to each other to make ends meet" and "they're so wrapped up in their privilege and their identity as white that they deprive themselves of real human connection" live in my head rent free

#asked #answered #whitenes #white supremacy

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tendergraphite · 11 months

Text

Henry Winter Wasn't In A Car Accident.

“I think that’s what it was. don’t know what else it could’ve been.”

Bunny never had any confirmation that Henry had been in a car accident, it was purely a self-drawn conclusion. For one, I understand where the assumptions came from—If you had a loving Father, it can be unimaginable that they'd inflict such traumatic injuries upon yourself willingly, let alone when you were a vulnerable small child.

(If you've been in the TSH fandom awhile, you'll already know this post was inspired by @henrywinterswife own post. A lot of this theory is not my own, I just wanted to add a few of my own takes.)

1) Despite his impaired sight, Henry isn't fearful of using a car/being inside of one. He's a poor driver, even with his precious Julian in the seat right next to him; This starkly is in contrast to Camilla and Charles whose Parents were actually in a car accident, and get nervous days before they travel.

If anything, everyone else feels anxious to share a car with Henry because of just how reckless he is.

2) He understands Richard in a way that smart or not, you would've needed to be abused yourself to get. ''Your not very happy where you come from, are you?'' I used to think he'd been referring to Richards poverty because he's pretentious, but considering how he treats what Julian calls ''lessers'' he wouldn't be the sort to care; Maybe even Richards numerous lies, but no I don't think Henry knew the true extent of Richards lies as we the audience think he does—Take the hospital scene, where Henry brings Richard books he cannot read, and is surprised when he requests a magazine.

No, he was referring to Richards own abusive Father. He even smiles at Richard, he never smiles at Richard, and then ''-Don't worry you hide it rather cleverly'' and ''The others really don't understand that sort of thing, you know.'' He'd been complimenting Richard for being able to hide his past abuse so well, and despite how emotionless he pointed out him being, really Henry would've been trying to comfort Richard in his own strange way. (To add; Henry most likely doesn't smile too often because of the chip on his front tooth.)

3) Henry can make himself invisible, which doesn't make sense on the face of it—He's unapproachable, but not overly nervous; He's big and broad wouldn't intimidation do the trick? wouldn't people have been leaving him alone already? Unless—He hadn't always been that big, and someone had made him feel the need to hide himself in plain sight: If you didn't already know, this is a survival mechanism for abuse survivors, especially children.

So what really happened then? What normally does, probably.

(The actual part of the theory that's mostly me, yay!)

Henrys Father was a man who enjoyed having his way with younger women and living the high life, his business isn't ''quite above board' But money shuts people up—Well it did, until he got one of his flings pregnant. Considering Henry was raised Catholic, it's easy to deduct his Father was to—Meaning having a child outside of wedlock would've been unacceptable. His Mother could've gotten an abortion yes, but whether it be morals or her own infatuation at the time, she likely refused to.

So after the forced marriage, and Henry had popped out, his Father couldn't be as free as he'd been before—So in a rage at the injustice of it all, he'd taken out his anger on little Henry as he blamed him alone for his lifestyle change. Let's remember this man had money like you wouldn't believe, and ''corporal punishment'' was seen a little different at the time—And with Henrys Mother being left with no way to protect him, his Father would've been allowed to do whatever he wished: Such as beating Henry half-way to deaths doorstep.

A lot of Henrys behaviour gets dissociated from regular human behaviour, because on first read everything reads as Henry being this impossible figure whose just different and understandable, romantic even. But really, it's quite sad—He'd been isolated his entire childhood with no one to confide in, nor feel safe with—Until he was to big for his Father to safely take advantage of anymore, and as soon as he had some freedom he stumbled into Julian who saw his vulnerability and took advantage of it for his own entertainment. Henry wanted the pain to stop, to loose himself and transcend into something bigger, which Julian had seen. And who had he gone to in his exposed state after his trip to Italy? Right, he had gone to Julian and even stayed the night.

''I loved him more than my own father'' He said ''I loved him more than anyone in the world.''

In the end at loosing Julian, he cried like a tall child.

#the secret history #henry winter #richard papen #this is how I know his suicide wasn't fake.#dark academia

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1999mercury · 11 months

Text

THEM AS YOUR BOYFRIEND! ☆

part one, childe! gender neutral reader

٩(ˊᗜˋ)و✰ written by jules! @1999mercury

1. FLUFF

Okay, first things first. I think Childe would be more of a gift giving AND words of affirmation person. He the typa guy to praise you on tons of shit (specifically battles *cough*) just to show his love to you.

Honestly, I don't think he'd like people that are very weak either. If you can beat him in a battle and he ends up liking you, my guy will follow you around like a lost puppy.

He LOVES physical affection. Oh my LORD this guy will absolutely cling to you. I really do believe this guy fits the 'golden retriever' trope even though he is literally a walking weapon actively looking for a fight. He'd probably praise you for beating the shit out of him.

Whenever you visit his post in Liyue, he gets so happy about it. He's always missing you and he doesn't exactly get the chance to see you as much as he wants to. So if you're able to take the time to get to see him, he'll be happier then a kid on Christmas.

I mean this guy is literally just a 6 ft kid, ever wonder why they named him Childe? Even though he can be incredibly annoying and even harsher on his recruits/underlings, he's also informal with them.

If you get to the point of dating where he genuinely LOVES loves you, I think thats the time he'll take you to see his family for the first time. If you're not used to the cold, good luck in Snezhnaya. He'd probably snicker at you shivering while he's a solid as a statue.

Back to the love language's part, have you ever seen those cleaning videos where there's like 5,000 packages at the door? He would most definitely send that to you. I mean, he does spoil his siblings all the time, why not you? You might have to tell him soon enough to stop.

small headcanon where he just gets so happy and giggly if he see's you getting along with his siblings: it makes him feel like a pot of jello and it just makes him dmkJdjdj he looks so happy <333

2. ANGST

As much as you and I want him to be, he definitely is not going to be the perfect boyfriend, especially regarding his past. So let's dive into that a little.

First off, the main part of his story is that he ran away from home, fell into the Abyss and trained there for 3 months, came back and had a personality switch, and was sent to the Fatui.

My personal head canon is that he didn't join WILLINGLY. Either they dragged him in, or his parents sold him off, whatever. I just don't think he would've joined it. He also doesn't agree with a lot of their ideals, but still goes through with it because of his pride.

And here comes the first angst head canon, his pride. Pride isn't the worst on it's own, but when it becomes too much... the person starts to become a little bit of an asshole!

Childe takes too much pride in his strength and in battle, which is why if he would ever come home to you battered up and bruised like he just got jumped, he just sweeps it under the rug like its a casual thing (which it kinda is considering his job.) He doesn't really, care, if you worry too much about him.

He just pushes it off every-time as "Oh, don't worry [Name]! Ill be fine." However, you will get annoyed if he always just does that every time. Saying the same thing all about how he's going to be just peachy. It's almost anger inducing, right?

Oh, you two will most definitely get into at least one fight over it.

His pride also more than not screws him over, and that along with his straightforwardness is what led to the whole Osial ordeal. It's extremely easy to manipulate him into making him do what you want because of this pride, and how he will take on a task no matter how hard it is.

another angst head canon I have is, you know that audio on tt that says "If I betray you, I betray myself. If I betray him, I betray my country." imagine that exact audio but replace him with her and imagine it as Childe talking about the Tsaritsa in the second part. OOOH that would be such heart twisting angst especially cause we all know Childe is super loyal to Tsaritsa but, he, loves u, so much 😞😞

Another thing is that because a lot of his childhood was ripped away from him due to the abyss and the Fatui, he has temperamental issues. Due to him not being able to mature correctly, he will most always accidentally blow up on you or others once or twice. It's not exactly his fault, but don't encourage it. Just let him calm down.

He cares about you a lot, and he'd probably rip Celestia apart if that meant you two would stick together, he just isn't exactly perfect. No one is, so don't leave him.

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