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swee7dream · 14 days

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ilichil as agere caregivers ! nct 127 x f!reader

warnings feminine nicknames dni if you sexualize age regression in any way . author's note i guess this is my opening to start writing cg!127 and cg!wayv ! mahae can be found here and winwin's headcanons can be found in wayv's when it's out .

moon taeil (´ ∀ ` *)

he’s just so entranced with you and age regression in general.

“wait, that’s a thing you can do?”

he can’t keep his eyes of you when you’re feeling tiny, not because he thinks you’re in trouble or anything, but because he views you as the cutest thing in the whole world!

a grandpa-like caregiver. loves pinching your cheeks and pretending to eat you up! nom nom nom

not a big title user. he’s just moonie and ur his kid! his baby :3 his precious bit of starlight

got a rocking chair just to sit in with you to sing you lullabies when you have trouble sleeping!

what’s the opposite of an iron fist? that’s taeil.

if it’s past bedtime and you’re small or you don’t want to eat a certain food on your plate, you can bet one of two things will happen: a) he just lets you do what you want or b) bribes you with a sweet treat

you can try to bribe him in return the few times he puts his foot down, but he’s surprisingly firm. he’s not a pushover by any means.

“please?” you bat your lashes at him.

“no.” the little bugger puffs his cheeks right back at you.

the worst at playing with dolls /lh

“oh no, we got kidnapped!” you gasp, moving the bingo mini figurine in your hand.

“oh no...” taeil moves bandit in his hand with a voice lacking so much emotion it’s actually impressive.

he’s doing his best. try playing pretend instead! (he likes playing doctor the most)

seo youngho (￢‿￢ )

you got him wrapped around your finger! not that he’ll ever admit it

saw a cute dress? he got it for you. your stuffie’s arm ripped? he’s learning to sew for you.

purposefully hides pieces of the puzzle you’re building and feigns innocence just to see you get mad when you find out his schemes

“how’d that happen?” he pouts, cocking his head to the side.

if he every truly upsets you, he’s quick to apologize, pulling you into his arms and leaving kisses all over your cheeks until you’re laughing again because it tickles so much and he’s holding you so tight you can’t get away!

johnny loves being called daddy! he’s your daddy and you’re his babygirl!

loves cheesy, old-fashioned nicknames like honeybun, buttercup, cupcake… he just thinks you’re sweet, is what he’s trying to say

he loves when you sit on his lap and show him the coloring pages you finished while he was gone. he’ll make up stories off them like the purple elephant that wants to be a trapeze for the circus!

another big fan of playing pretend

his favorite game is dinosaurs, stomping around the house in slow motion with an evil toothy grin. you always manage to sneak away from his t-rex arms somehow but he’ll get you one day!

but johnny isn’t just a big goof. he knows when to put his foot down and is more 50-50 with it rather than taeil’s 90-10.

“i said no. put that back, please.”

his serious voice never fails to cause a shiver up your spine, settling you down within seconds.

when you finally decided to tell johnny, it took a minute for him to understand what exactly age regression is but kept the line of communication open. very open.

once, you were at work and your screen lit up with a message notification from him reading ‘do you like pacifiers?’

you almost beat him up

lee taeyong (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)

worrywart !

doesn’t wanna make your regression feel even the slightest bit off. prioritizes your safety and comfort

at the beginning, taeyong as a cg can be seen as… a bit much

in preparation for his first time caring for you when small, he bought so many things. just anything he saw mentioned just once in all of his research of agere.

from itty bitty gear to middle/teen gear, bubu bought it all. if you don’t use any gear at all and have the ice cold heart to tell him so, you watch the color drain from his face.

poor guy

he just likes to be prepared. there’s nothing he likes more than a good plan.

cooking together is always so much fun. never lets you near the knives or heat but likes to keep you around to be his taste tester!

“what do you think, sweet pea?” “so yummy, bubu!”

loves doing crafts with you, particularly finger painting. you do it regularly, always forgetting that taeyong’s going to make you take a bath when the two of you end up with paint all over your faces and clothes

if you are allow it, taeyong is great with bathtimes !! he’s got rubber duckies and bath crayons to play with while he washes your hair.

cackles like a witch with a cauldron when adding a bathbomb to the bathtub, saying he’s preparing ‘baby soup’

“mommy, stop bein’ creepy.” “sorry, bug (っ- ‸ – ς)”

nakamoto yuta (￣ω￣)

“so yeah, it was just me and this big panther booking it down the forest to get away from this bear.” “and then?!” “i dunno i made it up :3”

an evil, evil man that takes advantage of your imagination during your tiny time to make up stories only to not finish them!

“what do you think would’ve happened next, baby?”

evil, but a good storyteller that gives you ideas for games nearly everyday you suppose….

loves playing dress up and salon

learned to do your hair! it’s an ongoing process… how did you end up with one low bun and one high? don’t ask

your breath hitches because he pulled a little too tight and he drops everything. are you okay? are you crying? he’s sorry, so so sorry. you know what? let’s have ice cream for dinner

likes listening to acid black cherry while doing your (v-kei) makeup! lets you sit on his lap when its your turn to do his

“daddy’s making you a total rockstar, baby.”

lets you draw on him! might get one (or several) of your doodles tattooed on his skin permanently just because he likes it so much

cuddling is his true life’s passion. takes out all the pillows and blankets in the house to make a pillow fort for movie nights. if he has any left over he uses them to wrap you up into a burrito

kim dongyoung （´▽｀）

just smile and wave, doyoung, smile and wave

maybe he shouldn’t have introduced you to his friends… they help add to your mischievous streak

“bunny? kangaroo! …pogo stick?” “doie… ‘s obviously you.” “me?” “yeah! when you can’t get the stuff on the top shelf at the the store so you did like this. ‘member? doie so bad at charades...” “:D ?!”

simultaneously the most competitive and worst player when it comes to video games

says he’s gonna win as you load up animal crossing like ….? okay gramps

hates when you call him that so you do it as much as possible because you live to displease

always knows the right thing to say when you’re feeling big feelings that feel only bigger when you’re small

treats you like you’re made of porcelain, his fingers delicately wiping your tears away silently.

never tells you to not cry or to stop, just tries to makes the process of feeling your emotions as easy as possible by making sure you’re drinking as much water as you’re crying out and making sure nothing could trigger you further

when you first told him about your regression you weren’t sure what his reaction was gonna be. he just stared dead at you in silence for like 8 minutes and then whispered “yeah… that makes sense” to himself

what is that supposed to mean? you know as well as i

jeong yunoh o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

he really just wants you to think he’s cool

that’s his main thing. of course, you being comfortable and happy is first, but you thinking he’s cool is a close second

most of his cg work is actually done behind the scenes; trying recipes, researching agere tips, and learning different crafts so that when you’re finally little again he can see the sweet, sweet sight of your awe

if you two planned for you to have some tiny time after a long time spent without regressing because overwhelming stress and responsibilities, you can bet on jaehyun to have organized an entire mermaid scavenger hunt in your home at a 6pm on a wednesday evening

the reward is always a ticket for something like a veggie-free night or a warm hug (he’ll give them to you whether you have one or not)

he calls them baby tickets

yes, that’s really what he calls them. yes, he chose the name himself.

there’s a reason you don’t let him name your dolls or stuffies

you tried once, this is basically how it went:

“hyunnie, what you think?” “it’s a bear… and pink… what about bearie? like strawberry and bear. bearie, haha. get it?” “…”

likes being called mister! but it’s actually rare for you to call him anything other than hyunnie

“say ‘please’ and i’ll think about it.” “please, mist-”

he’s already swiping his card

dong sicheng ♡✧( ु•⌄• )

read here (when it’s published) !

kim jungwoo (☆^ー^☆)

the silliest!!!!! how can you not love snoopy

your number one supporter in every single thing.

“the way you colored the sky with cerulean blue instead of the standard blue is just a peek into the artistic genius mind you have, my dear. how is every single art piece of yours just flawless?”

your babbles? “you don’t say! you know, i never did like that scoundrel…”

loves playing doggy! he could be cleaning around the house but if you slip that dog ear headband on him he’ll drop everything to entertain you.

he’s shattered a few plates...

he’s the most loyal friend you could have. he herds all your sheep plushies together and sniffs out the clues to help you solve the mysteries!

he also lets you doodle on his face. he’s just so easy-going it doesn’t matter what. whiskers? meow! mustache? hm, yes, it’s quite becoming of him, he thinks. you stuck some gem stickers on his cheeks? he’s an alien from the moon.

likes playing pretend much more than playing with toys.

sulky when you choose to play with your dolls rather than him. when he’s literally right there!!! your best friend :(( your buddy :((

i don’t know how else to describe this other than a dog-like caregiver

energy is always up, even when its bedtime which can be counterproductive sometimes. although? not completely? he definitely helps you tire yourself out until you’re knocked out on the couch

his nickname for you is giggles !! your giggles are his favorite thing in the whole wide world and makes sure to tell you that often.

lee minhyung (ᓀ‸ᓂ)

read here !

lee donghyuck ʕ˙Ⱉ˙‧:ʔ

read here !

extra ! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

cg!johnny+yuta is being hit with whiplash every two seconds because they can either be the sweetest people ever or pranksters from the deepest depth of WICKEDNESS AND DARKNESS. they always, always, always tag team too, so it’s not like you can run to one when they other is trying to tickle you to death

cg!jeno+jungwoo is what happens when a baby is left alone with an old, tired dog (jeno) and his younger brother that has all the energy in the world (jungwoo)

cg!taeyong+doyoung has the same power imbalance as djj, leaving doyoung groveling at the ground even when he’s supposed to be the one taking care of the others

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vikwrites · 1 month

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Money, Money, Money - Tony Stark

CHAPTER 1 Summary ➣ Starting off as simple, transactional love during the height of Tony’s alcoholism, devolves into something real. Pairing ➣ Tony Stark x Reader Word Count ➣ 1.2k words Warnings ➣ Slow Burn, Power Imbalance, Enemies to Lovers, Large age gap, Mildly Pretentious Narrator. Author's Notes ➣ The first, full-fledged Tony Stark series, so excited for this! I've always wanted to write a Materialistic!Reader so here it is! Happy readings <3

On the 86th floor of Stark Tower, atop a mini-bar, sat a delicate glass of Vodka Martini, 3 fluid-ounce Yamazaki, 1 fluid-ounce dry vermouth, with 3 small olives minutely pierced onto a thin gold-plated skewer.

The thin stem of the crystal glass was passed to your gauzy, manicured fingers, in exchange for a crisp stack of ten dollar bills surrendered to the bartender, you didn’t bother to count.

The plump skewer of olives swirled freely in your nearly full martini; minute drops threatened to spill over the edge of its fine rim. Luckily, you had caught the droplets before they had been discarded onto the carpeted floor.

Figures adorned in hues of gold and silver flitted about the lavish parlor, each mirrored the twinkling lights of the Manhattan skyline outside in their respective shimmering gowns, each one more expensive than the last.

The atmosphere was lively, yet the main attraction has yet to arrive. You had heard mentions of the infamous Stark around; his name carried a certain mystique, spoken under hushed whispers amongst the attendees. You had never really met him face-to-face, considering he was the CEO of the company, but your position at Stark Industries held up a pretty good reputation, earning you enough, and granting you an invite to the party.

“Do you think he’s seeing anyone?” You picked up on the conversation between a few women sitting next to you on the barstools. The woman in question, doused in the overwhelming scent of Chanel No. 5, was dressed in a form-fitting Valentino dress. Her voice carried through the air with a thick New-Yorkean accent, a bleak resemblance to her flashy, ostentatious appearance.

“Quit it, stop trying to get into Stark’s pants. You never will.” The blonde next to you responded, patting the other on the shoulder playfully. You caught a glimpse of her manicured nails, adorned with a glossy velvet finish in a similar fashion to your own. However, unlike yours—which were neatly trimmed, the cuticles of her nails were a bit messy. A detail that wouldn't normally matter, but for some reason stood out to you in that moment.

Is she wearing a Cartier bracelet? Your jaw clenched at the sight of her bracelet, sparkling with diamonds and catching the light in a way that made your own bracelet pale in comparison, it was obviously more expensive than yours. The fact alone pissed you off.

The room was filled with a swarm of pretentious individuals, each one flaunting their wealth and superiority. It was suffocating, being surrounded by so many egotistical assholes with their holier-than-thou attitudes. They may have money, but it didn't make them any less shallow or arrogant. You had this sixth-sense of being able to tell how much of an asshole specifically by what adorned their money-laced wrists—whether or not they wore a Patek Phillipe or a Jaeger was enough insight into their entire persona.

“I’ve got a better chance than you at least, Stark would love me!” The first woman's voice snapped like a taut wire, dripping with disdain. Her eyes narrowed and glinted with malice as she shot dirty looks at the others, her loathing almost palpable.

Holier-than-thou attitude, as you had said.

You thought their behavior immature, not wanting to pay attention anymore to such infantile arguments. Fighting over some uber-rich billionaire who could give less of a shit who you are after you had warmed his bed for a single night?

Pfft, fuck no, you were just here for the cocktails.

You brought the crystal glass to your lips, and took your first sip. The alcohol burnt as it cascaded down your throat, leaving your mouth with a spicy aftertaste, you could never really get used to a Martini.

A part of you was contemplating asking for more, but the sensible side knew that ending up slobbering drunk at a party and waking up at the ungodly hour of 2pm with missing jewelry and a killer hangover was not exactly your idea of a good time.

The smooth sip of your drink is abruptly halted by the sharp sound of glass shattering, followed by the shrill voices of the ladies engaged in a vicious argument. Their heated words and swinging arms in-turn send glasses crashing to the ground, littering the once-pristine carpet with sparkling shards of broken glass.

“Did you just call me a bitch?” The blonde's voice rose to a screeching crescendo as she yelled, her face flushed with anger. With a loud thud, she slammed her purse onto the table.

“Yeah, I did—bitch!” Another responded, her voice a bit more high pitched than the other, yet still carrying the same sanctimonious attitude, standing up and facing her with a smug smirk on their face.

“Now, ladies. Must we really be resorting to calling each other names?” A voice echoed from atop the stairwell. The women’s dispute had been abruptly quelled, the whole room seemed silenced, and all eyes seemed to be glued onto the figure.

There stood Tony Stark, dressed in a perfectly-styled, deep-burgundy suit, no doubt Tom Ford, the barchetta pocket gave it away. His hair was styled in his signature quiff, slicked back to a T. And of course, he topped off the ensemble with a pair of red sunglasses, which you’d always found amusing since he'd wear them indoors.

“Welcome, everybody. I would introduce myself, but it seems that you know who I am.” Each step he takes down the glass staircase, each time his Louboutin boots hit the glass stairs, resulted in a loud, echoed clap, which resonated across the room. “I’d personally like to thank all of you for attending. As you know, it happens to be my anniversaire today, so I thought to myself, why not throw a party?”

"What's with all the staring, is my suit on backwards?" Tony joked, his eyes scanning the room as he flashed his signature smirk. You knew, however, he thrived on attention, as if it were fuel for his larger-than-life persona. Flamboyant was practically his middle name; Tony Flamboyant Stark does have a nice ring to it, you chuckled.

"Jarvis," Tony’s voice carried a hint of excitement as he spoke to his AI, "let's crank up the music and get this party started." The monotone response did as so.

After Tony made his grandeur entrance, you retreated to your lone seat at the bar, grateful for the temporary escape from the chaos. The previously bickering women had vanished, leaving a few neighboring barstools conveniently open for your solitude. You took a deep breath and savored the cool air conditioning and the soft murmur of conversation floating around you.

But just when you thought you had some peace and quiet, you heard the shuffling of a chair being pulled out next to you. Expecting one of the argumentative ladies to return, you turned to find Tony Stark himself settling into the seat beside you, nonchalantly pulling out his wallet and fishing out a few bills.

"So, could I buy you a drink?"

⎊ back to masterlist

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ggomos-maribat · 9 months

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7 | in which Marinette gets a new career: making Lex Luthor's life an absolute hell

Part 7 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

Sometimes, Bruce gave Marinette additional work that was stipulated nowhere in their contract.

Scratch that, he gave her a lot of work that wasn't part of the contract. Marinette wouldn't complain, obviously, since she was paid extra but occasionally, the additional chores became troublesome.

Nonetheless, there was also extra work that she absolutely enjoyed doing. The type of work that she would've done even if she wasn't compensated. Hell, she'd pay Bruce just to accomplish the task. One such assignment was set for the WE gala.

That night, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the director, and her boss was the star of the show.

She was clad in a modest dress for the big night: gray, calf-length, minimal accessories, pointed heels. The most important part of her outfit, however, was the earpiece discreetly disguised with her hairpin, which put her in a direct line with Bruce.

She peered through the glass windows of the venue, seeing the gala in its grandeur. Fashionably late. That's what they called it. It worked when one wanted to draw attention, because with nearly everyone already present, a metaphorical spotlight would drop down from the sky.

She pressed a button on her earpiece, tucking her tablet close to her chest. "All ready to go, Mr. Wayne."

And of course, since he was Bruce Wayne, he delivered. Heads turned and skirts swished as he made his splendid entrance, just at the right level of 'fashionably late', Brucie-style. He grinned his shiniest grin and immediately greeted the elite guests of the gala he hosted.

Marinette slipped into the threshold herself. "May I remind you not to act too drunk tonight, you're too old for that and it's just going to look sleazy."

"Of course, Marinette, thank you." He replied just as stealthily. "I trust you'll take care of the rest?"

Her lip curled upwards. "Oh, I intend to."

She took her position near the grand staircase, halfway blending in with the shadows. That amount of stealth would rival Alfred's or even Cassandra's. She just had to play another face in the crowd, someone barely noteworthy.

Then, she'll enjoy the show from her earpiece.

Target spotted. There was Lex Luthor in all his Mr. Clean glory, hanging out with other guests dressed fancily by the banquet table. At first, Marinette was quite surprised he accepted the invitation to a Wayne gala. But then she thought that Luthor would probably push his pride aside just to keep up appearances.

But it was amusing to see that a few of the people crowded around him left to flock to Bruce Wayne.

Her gaze turned towards her boss. He was dressed a bit differently than his usual gala outfit: a flashy golden suit with black markings on the fabric. They commissioned the design from M.D.C., but lent the production to WE's clothing department. Seeing the suit play its role proved that it truly helped Bruce steal the show.

Marinette waited until Luthor was closer to the table. Then she headed straight to it, swiping a mini fruit tart for herself to cover up the nimbleness of her fingers. Poor clueless Luthor, she thought when she successfully retreated back to the staircase.

The effects didn't take too long to see. As soon as Luthor moved to walk with the person he was chatting with, the tablecloth followed him, and so did the rest of the plates, utensils, bowls, and the gorgeous wine tower. The crash was like music to Marinettte's ears as heads turned and Luthor stared gobsmacked at the mess he'd accidentally caused.

The mess he undeniably caused, since the part of the tablecloth was still pinched between his belt and slacks.

The silence was deliciously deafening.

Until one jovial voice cut through.

"Lexie!" Bruce gently pushed past the group swarming around him. "Are you alright?"

Luthor's mouth opened. And closed again. Opened. Closed. "I didn't—how did . . ."

"My my, have you drunk too much wine?" Bruce's gaze swept over the ruined table which the staff were trying to clean up. "You've got to be a little careful, Lex."

Whispers rampaged within the crowd.

Luthor, seemingly trying to hold onto his composure, forced out a laugh. "That's funny, I barely drank tonight."

Bruce nodded sympathetically. "They say your tolerance does go down with old age. If you're feeling dizzy, you can rest upstairs—"

"No!" Luthor suddenly yelled. But immediately after, he cleared his throat and said in a softer tone, "No, thank you. Bruce. I'm feeling okay. I apologize for the mess I caused; I'll make sure to compensate for everything."

Marinette was nearly proud of the faux but extremely convincing smile that Bruce put on. "Very well. How about I help you get a new suit? It seems that some of the wine has stained yours."

***

Tim wasn't in the gala (he was both extremely sleep-deprived and unwilling to go), so Marinette took the liberty of sharing a video of Luthor's incident to him, which he would probably be sending to the family group chat. She conversed with the young CEO for a while, receiving praises on her skills as she waited for her target to come back.

It didn't take long for Luthor to return, all cleaned up like nothing happened. Although there were considerably fewer people who wanted to be near him. It was funny, to Marinette, how Luthor seemed to avoid the table as well.

Unfortunately for you, that doesn't make you safe. Unbeknownst to the general public, the gala venue was extremely dynamic since it was designed to cater almost any event. There were panels and advanced machinery controlling parts of the area, including the elevated stage that doubled as a gallery for the charity's exhibit.

The one who had guest access to the control was none other than Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

She just had to be patient. Luthor moved around a lot, likely because he didn't want to be caught off guard. He had stepped up onto the stage following an exec who was proud to show the gallery. At the time they came down, Marinette pressed a button on her tablet to make the steps move.

With a smack, Luthor's face met the polished floor.

Dramatic gasps echoed around. Faces of concern, some of indifference, others mocking. Like the hero he was, Bruce rushed to Luthor's side to offer a helping hand.

Luthor looked just about to slap his hand away, but he accepted it with a firm grip instead with an overly forced grin.

"Maybe you should lie down after all, Lexie," Bruce pouted. "You can't even walk straight."

The other man laughed a little too loudly. "No need to make it a big deal. It was just an accident."

Bruce clapped him on the back. "No need to be shy around me, hm? Tell me when you need to get some rest."

Whoa, that blood vessel is ready to pop on his head, Marinette observed when Luthor broke away from Bruce and stalked towards the drinks table near her in irritation. He poured out a drink for himself—

"Lexie, why did you run off? You should stay with me, you might cause another accident!" Bruce cried out.

Luthor whirled around. "That—that's a tempting offer, but I shouldn't trouble you," he said through gritted teeth.

"You look really red. I think you should step away from the wine . . ."

"I barely had a sip!"

Luthor turned back around to pick up his glass but it was gone. Meanwhile, Marinette brought the glass to her lips, savoring the expensive wine. She unintentionally locked eyes with Luthor, who looked like he realized who stole his drink. No one will ever believe you if you try to tell them, Marinette inwardly said. Giving him her most feral smile, she downed the drink in one go.

"That!" Luthor jabbed a finger in her direction. "Bruce! Isn't that your assistant?! She's the one causing trouble for me the whole night!"

"My assistant? Lexie, you must be seeing things! I gave her the night off—why would I need my assistant at a gala?"

At the moment Luthor forced him to look, Marinette had already slipped away somewhere else as if she'd vanished.

***

To other people who didn't know of Bruce's alter ego, it would be a mystery why he never had bodyguards with him. But to those in the know (exempli gratia, Marinette) it made sense, since Bruce had to slip in and out in times of emergencies and can defend himself pretty well. Marinette also had prior knowledge that Bruce sometimes let himself be captured to comply with the act. This kind of situation was one Marinette never wished to witness.

They were heading to a hotel for an investor and partnership meeting. Only Marinette, Bruce and the driver were in the limousine when the vehicle grinded to a halt. Peering towards the driver's seat, Marinette saw that the driver had slumped on top of the wheel.

"What the . . ."

The door was pulled open, and masked men armed with guns started pointing at them and telling them to get down. A couple pulled Bruce out of the limo, throwing him down on the pavement to be restrained.

"A kidnapping!" Airheaded 'Brucie' was on display, almost marveling at the situation they were in. "Haven't had those in a while. Careful now, don't be rough with my assistant."

Marinette stared at her boss in disbelief.

Is he . . . is he serious right now?!

Bruce was barely fighting back. No, he didn't fight back at all. You could've taken them all out and told me to keep quiet! Are we seriously doing this right now?! Are you secretly a masochist? Kwamis, we are going to be late for that meeting!

Marinette shut her mouth as she was also pulled out. The men were about to throw a gagged and bound Bruce into their (totally not suspicious) white van. We can't afford to miss this event, it's important for WE!

First, she disarmed them, kicking and knocking off the guns in their hands. One by one they fought back at her but she broke bones and pulled muscles flawlessly, not letting them land a single hit on her. Finally, she rounded them up in a neat circle with their own ropes and zip ties before dabbing the sweat on her forehead. Some of the men were unconscious, some were just disoriented.

Bruce was gawking at her. "Was that in your resumé?"

Marinette put her hands on her hips. "I didn't think it was relevant for the position. I took martial arts lessons in case . . . you know . . . I needed to kick an akuma's ass back in Paris."

"Oh."

"What were you even thinking, Mr. Wayne?" She glowered. "I know you also had self defense lessons—you could've fought back!"

"But—"

"Don't tell me you did it on purpose!"

Bruce quickly avoided her gaze. "I know how to stall the kidnappers until the vigilantes arrive for rescue."

"So you just sit still and do nothing?" Marinette scolded. "Mr. Wayne, who will sign my paychecks if something happens to you?"

"I'm used to it."

She gave him an unimpressed look. We're going to be late for the meeting anyway. Not to mention I'd have to get him a new suit and send his current one for drycleaning.

"Fine. You pride yourself now as a professional captive?" She smiled humorlessly. "Give me one good reason not to sacrifice you to these kidnappers right now."

"Wait, no—"

Marinette didn't even wait. She ushered her boss into the kidnappers' van and practically skipped towards the astounded masked men to free them. Albeit confused and still disoriented, the kidnappers took Bruce away and Marinette bade them goodbye while waving.

***

Of course, Marinette wasn't going to just leave Bruce like that. She still had her paycheck to worry about after all. After calling an ambulance for the driver, she drove the limousine herself and raced through the streets of Gotham, following Bruce's location through her tablet.

She arrived in a typical warehouse near the docks, as expected from amateur kidnappers. It was getting dark, but she allowed herself to enjoy the sunset for a little while. From her guesses, the rest of the family members would've already been alerted of his situation, so she took her place beside the building's door.

Lo and behold, it was Batman who arrived. Dick-Batman.

"Wait," she said when he passed by her.

. . . And she pretended not to notice him leaping back in shock.

"Huh?" Dick-Batman sputtered out. "What are you doing here? It's dangerous—"

"Don't rescue him yet."

"What? Why?"

Marinette examined her fingernails casually. "He's enjoying playing damsel in distress right now while learning a very important lesson. Give it around five to ten minutes."

"Uhh, okay?"

Dick-Batman just leaned on the wall beside her in an awkward stance, trying to inconspicuously talk through his comms.

Taglist: @hammalammadamdam @animegirlweeb @fairlyfatale

@agentxx92

#maribat fic #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #dc x miraculous #NMWYCAM #PA!Marinette

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danikamariewrites · 9 months

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could i pls request feysand x reader, where they meet tamlin at some meeting/party and he finds out y/n exist and gets mad at the whole relationship. Imagine reader punches him for all he did to feyre and feysand are so proud🥹🥹

Beast

Feysand x reader

A/n: I love this! I would punch Tamlin to get him to stop speaking

Warnings: canon typical violence, Tamlin being a bitch, and injuries

As you touched up your lipstick one last time you picked up the train of your dress and rushed out of the room. You were fashionably late. Not that Rhys and Feyre would mind. Others who didn’t know you would mind. To many you were just another Night Court emissary in the Inner Circle. But only a few knew you were with Rhysand and Feyre.

You had yet to meet two of the High Lords. Thesan and Tamlin. You were looking forward to meeting Thesan, Tamlin on the other hand…not so much.

Feyre and Rhys told you their history with Tamlin. Ever since then you’d held a grudge against him. He hurt the loves of your life, how could you be civil with him? You told Rhys you’d try to be on your best behavior but as soon as he turned his back you winked at Feyre.

Two sentries opened the double doors for you as you approached. You could hear the chatter in the room die down a little as you glide into the room. You feel the eyes of the other High Lords and their delegations on you. “Apologies for my late arrival my Lords.” You give a small curtsy before heading to where Cassian has already pulled your chair out for you.

You thank him after he pushes you in. Feyre holds your hand under the table and you smile at her before you turn back to the table. As the meeting goes on you feel Tamlin’s questioning gaze on you occasionally. Every time you tried to glare back his head snapped away from you.

Your eyes narrowed, one of your brows raised at his behavior. Curious. You wondered if he’d introduce himself at the party later or if he’ll avoid you.

Later that night you changed into a shimmering black gown with small diamonds decorating the skirt that swirl up the bodice. “You look like beautiful tonight.” Feyre whispered in your ear. You smiled and turned to her. “You as well baby.” You leave a quick peck on her cheek. “I’m going to get some wine, would you like a glass?” “Ohh yes please.”

You give her hand a squeeze before walking over to the refreshments. This months meeting was graciously hosted by Helion who loved a good party. He spared no expense when it came to good food and drinks. The decadent spread in front of you made your mouth water. quiches, meat carving stations, mini cakes and other pastries lay in rows on tables.

You make a plate to share with Rhys and Feyre as you make your way down the tables to the drinks. Some Day Court specific wine caught your eye. You made a mental note to try it later, if you could remember. You skillfully maneuver two glasses of strawberry wine between your fingers.

As you turn, a broad chest clad in forest green. “Sorry,” you look up at the male and are met with emerald green eyes and somewhat wicked smile. You felt anger roll through you. You pushed it down and force a fake smile to your face. “Hello, can I help you?”

Tamlin’s smile turned to a smirk. “I couldn’t help but notice your late entrance earlier today, my lady. I just wanted to say you look stunning this evening and introduce myself. I am Tamlin, High Lord of Spring.” You shoot him another fake smile. “Pleasure, but I must be getting back to my friends.”

“Allow me to help-“ he attempted to grab one of the glasses from you to hold but you held on with an iron grip. You felt Tamlin tense as he wrapped his hand tighter around the glass. You pulled back and forth, the glass eventually broke in your hand. The glass dug in and sliced your palm. You dropped the plate and broken glass, hissing at the cut nor dripping blood down your hand.

You heard Tamlin start to apologize as the people around you went silent and stared. Rhys was in your mind in an instant, “Whede are you, love?” “By the drinks.” You heard two sets of rushing footsteps, Rhys and Feyre appeared beside you. Rhys cradled your bleeding hand in his, “Gods, are you alright love?” You nod slowly, still staring at your bleeding hand. “Let me see,” Feyre said gently guiding your hand toward her. She uncurls your fingers as hers glow with her golden healing powers.

Your skin starts to stitch back together leaving your palm scar free but still smeared with blood. “Thank you.” You give her a weak smile. Feyre leans in to lightly kiss your lips but you deepen it, knowing it would drive Tamlin mad. As you turn back to Rhys you see Tamlin’s eyes practically bulge out of his head.

Rhys pulls out a handkerchief from his suit and wipes the blood from your hand. “You sure you’re ok love? Do you need anything?” “No I’m fine, thank you.” Rhys looked to Tamlin, a scowl on his beautiful lips. “Care to explain what happened Tamlin.” Rhys growled out. “Do you care to explain?” Tamlin practically screamed back. Rhys side stepped in front of you two. “Watch your tone.”

“What? Was Feyre not enough for you? And was Rhysand not enough for you? You two are the-“ before Tamlin could get his words out your fist connected with his nose. A crunching sound echoed in your ears as blood spattered from from his nostrils.

Tamlin holds his nose, his eyes wide with shock at the shot you just landed on him. “You don’t get to say anything about them! Or us! Just leave it.” You whirled on Rhys who looked beyond pissed. “Can we go home?” Feyre nodded, “I’ll get the others, you take her.” You watched her walk off to find the rest of the group until darkness swirled around you.

When it faded you were standing in the foyer of the River House with Rhys. He placed his hands on your shoulders, looking intensely in your eyes. “You shouldn’t have done that.” His was was smooth and quiet. You were shocked, fully expecting the opposite from him.

“I won’t apologize because I couldn’t let him just say nasty stuff about you two.” Rhys breathed out a soft laugh and pulled you to his chest, cradling your head.

You hear Feyre winnow back with Azriel and Cassian. She embraces you from behind, leaving a small kiss on the back of your head. “How’s your hand?” You pull away from them to look at Feyre. “I’m fine. What about you, are you ok Fey?”

Feyre looks between you and Rhys. She looked like she was holding something back. “I’m…ok. A little shaken by his outburst. And your punch. But ok.” Rhys picks Feyre up, she lays her head on his shoulder. “Why don’t we all go to bed. It’s been a long day.” You hum in agreement.

tags: @rigelus @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @aroseinvelaris

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #poly!feysand x reader #poly!feysand x you #feysand x reader #feysand #Feysand x you #feyre darling #feyre x you #high lady feyre #feyreandrhysand #feyre x reader #rhysand imagine #rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader imagine #rhysand x you

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belokhvostikova · 10 months

Text

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing and smoking.

It was Steve Harrington’s twenty-ninth big birthday palooza.

Well, at least that’s what the giant, colorful banner called it, that hung across the foyer of his home. That’s what happens when Dustin Henderson plans your party. But the kid—who was beyond the definition of a kid now—had told Steve he had no right to complain about it being childish. Steve did shoot down the first option of “Big Birthday Bash,” terribly unaware that palooza was the next best thing for Henderson.

Had he known, he surely would have stuck with the first option.

Steve was correct, though. The banner was childish, and it had garnered all the fascination from the mini Munson that walked in with a gaping mouth of pure awe at the bright sign. At the very least, the actual kid would enjoy it.

And “palooza” was really selling it out. It was merely a group of adult friends simply hanging out like old times. Only the new addition was the three-year-old hanging off your leg, who adorably looked a lot like your husband.

Not fair. You did most of the work.

But it was worth it, staring into those baby cow eyes every time you crouched down to your kid. And once you stood up, you’d find them again from Eddie Munson, himself, who peered at you lovingly.

Of course, you had to show off your baby and bring him to the party. He was already a crowd favorite. Being the first baby born into Hawkins’ infamous clan of misfits gave you that right. And they all loved that tiny Munson.

Especially after that “Happy Birtday, Uncle Steeb!” It was enough to make icebergs melt.

And having a child at an adult hangout wasn’t all bad. Keeping the beers separated from the juice boxes, and having a yard big enough for the child to run was sufficient enough. Bonus points for Steve Harrington’s dog, Rufus, who took up all your kid’s attention.

By the end of the night, the group had naturally separated into two; the men left smoking outside, while the women conversed in the comfort of the living room. This had come after the cake celebration. Once the candles were blown out, Steve had joked that he wished to keep all his hair throughout his thirties. In reality, he’d wished to start a family as loving as the one his friend had.

He would end up confiding this to Eddie during the relaxed smoking session. That he wanted the whole package; a wife and kid. In fact, he dreamed of having many of them. Eddie blew out the smoke from his cigarette and smiled. “It’s the greatest fucking feeling ever, man.”

Because when Eddie looked back through the glass doors of the patio, he saw you. Sitting and chatting, beautiful as ever. But the cherry on top was seeing his tiny kid straddling your lap. His curly head of hair buried into your neck calmly asleep, as Eddie’s leather jacket draped over as a comforting blanket.

“I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” Eddie beamed, as he stomped out his cigarette.

One day Steve would get that. Whether it was with the pretty lady he was currently seeing or a future soulmate, he’d get that.

Eddie had walked in, strutting over to the quarter of cake that was left after everyone had gotten a slice. Not you, though. You were busy cheering on Steve from the couch, as your baby used your chest as a bed. Cutting a slice, and plonking it onto a paper plate, Eddie meandered his way next to you on the couch.

“You deserve a piece.” He forked a triple chocolate portion into your mouth, where he smiled, as your face contorted into delight. “Good?” He knew it was, he devoured two slices earlier. You could only hum with pleasure, before he leaned in and whispered. “Should we feed the monster?”

It was a risky move. One taste of sugar, and your three-year-old would turn into the Hulk. But it was a risk worth taking, your baby was too cute not to feed treats to.

Eddie managed to slowly insert a small piece between his tiny puckered lips, as he slept. And in true Munson fashion, your baby chewed in his sleep, eyes closed but mouth surely moving.

Then, those baby cow eyes tiredly opened at the sudden sweetness. “Choclat?”

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I don’t know why I keep making Dad!Eddie blurbs. It’s an addiction that can’t be stopped.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #dad!eddie x mom!reader #steve harrington

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sheeple · 1 year

Text

Miracles don’t exist | 2: Nice Slytherins

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): None this chapter [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

You make your way through the busy train hallway, following behind Draco and his 'friends'. You roll your eyes as they sneer at a couple first-years before taking a seat in ─ the now-empty ─ compartment.

Taking a book out of your bag, you lean against the window as you pull your knees up to your chin. Harry lent you the book before the summer break. It's a muggle book about four sisters and their adventures. You really like the character of Amy.

The three bullies are deep in conversation about whatnot when there's a knock on the door. Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott stand in the opening; Theodore with a smirk and Blaise with his ever-so-bored expression. You gulp as Draco invites them to sit with you all.

Theodore takes place next to you. Blaise glares Goyle out of his seat and he lets himself drop into the now empty seat.

Over the summer, aunt Cissy had organised a ball with all the important pure-blood families. After the umpteenth time you were introduced to a boy ─ sometimes ten years older ─ you knew what this was about. In true pure-blood fashion, this ball was to find you a husband. And of course, the Nott's and Zabini's were invited.

Theodore's father is an avid supporter of your father and also a Death Eater, so it was rather obvious why he is a candidate. Mr Nott gave a deep bow to you when you were introduced and shoved his son forward.

"You might have met my son", muses the elder man, a hand on the back of his son. "He's in your house and year, after all."

With a fake smile, you hold out your hand for a shake but Theodore places a kiss on your knuckles. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

You've seen Theodore all the time. He's friends with Draco and hangs around him most of the time. But sometimes he's seen around with Lorenzo Berkshire and Blaise Zabini. You've heard he can be quite aggressive at times, so you decided to stay away from him as much as possible.

And Blaise Zabini. His mother is a beautiful witch — one you wish to look like when you reach her age. Though not part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, it became clear after talking to Mrs Zabini why the Malfoy's had chosen them. Blood status means a lot to them.

It was quite clear from the beginning that your family favoured the Nott's over any other family. With the fact that Mr Nott is still a follower of your father, and that Theodore actually talked to you during the event. The choice was not that hard.

You stand in a hidden corner, munching on hors d'oeuvres that are passed around. You feel multiple pairs of eyes on you. The feeling makes you want to throw up, and you clutch the sides of your too-tight dress.

Placing your plate down on a table, you rush out of the banquet hall, needing air. Weaving through the many guests, it was only a matter of time before you bumped into someone.

The person clutches one of your shoulders and the other around your waist to steady you. You look up and see a worried look on Theodore's face. Shit. Why of all the people did you need to bump into him?

"Are you okay?", he asks, a worried tone laced in his voice.

You reach up to push his hand off your shoulder. "Just peachy."

"Would you look at that?" A cheery voice makes the both of you turn around. Mr Nott looks at both of you with greedy eyes. Theodore's hold around your waist tightens protectively.

"Wouldn't the two of them make the perfect pure-blood children? Don't you agree, Lucius?"

A shiver runs down your spine at the memory. You snap the book shut and stand up abruptly, making everybody look at you. "I have to... return something."

You rush out of the packed compartment, nausea bubbling in your throat.

Roaming the train with the book in your hand, you decide now is the best time to return it to Harry. Who knows how much alone time you get in the upcoming year.

Finding the compartment where Harry and his friends are isn't so hard. A lot of people ─ mostly first years ─ swarm around it. You smile politely at a bunch of eleven-year-olds before you open the door and step inside.

You give a nervous smile to Ron and Hermione before turning toward Harry. "Hey, how was your summer break? Thanks for lending the book, by the way."

You hold out the book for him to take, but Hermione snatched it out of your hands. "Did you steal it?"

Ron tenses up and sits on the edge of his seat as Harry jumps up to stand between Hermione and you. "I gave her the book! I thought you wouldn't mind if you got it back after the summer break."

Hermione drops her shoulders and slides back next to Ron, who still eyes you suspiciously. "Couldn't you just get the book yourself?"

"My aunt and uncle are very... anti-muggle. Our library only has wizarding books. I've read them all by now and I just like how muggle authors of the past write their stories. And I'm not really allowed to go into the muggle down close to home." You nervously tug a strand of hair behind your ear, but it falls back in front of your face.

The tension is to cut, but both Ron and Hermione sit back, still keeping an eye on you. Harry rummages through his luggage, pulling out a letter. He holds it out for you to take. "It's from Sirius", says Harry with a slight smile and you tense up.

Glancing at the handwriting, you grip the letter. "Do you mind... Can I read it here?", you ask, glancing at the other two passengers in the compartment. "It's kinda crowded in ours."

Harry slides to the side and you sit down, opening the letter. The handwriting is scratchy and shaky.

Dear (Y/n),

To be honest, I don't know where to start. I got very excited when Harry told me I had a decent cousin. From what he told me, you sound like a pleasant person.

I know it may be too quick, but I would like you to spend Christmas with me at Grimmauld Place. If you don't, that's alright If you would like to owl me about your answer, that would be great.

Because I am currently in hiding, that would be best if our correspondence keeps secret. I will send an owl for your answer on the twenty-fifth. I hope to hear from you and get to know you.

Sirius

You knit your eyebrows together as you lower the letter. He really tried hard, it's petty sweet.

"Are you alright? What was in the letter?", asks Harry concerned.

"He wants to- Sirius asked me to spend Christmas with him." You glance at Harry to see his reaction. You know how much Harry really wants to see and live with Sirius. He told you about the offer his godfather gave him last year.

Hermione quirks a brow. "And that's bad... because?"

You are quick to shake your head. "No! That's good! Great even! Now I don't have to suffer through dinners with the Nott's that for sure is going to happen over the break." You let out a huff of air, recalling the many times the family came over during the summer break. Mr Nott really creeps you out.

"Why would you have to do that?"

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you breathe out through your nose. "To put it simply, I am being married off. You know, keeping the bloodline pure." You roll your eyes at the last part. "It really grosses me out."

"Can't you just say to your family that you don't want to marry?", Ron asks, and Harry nods along with him.

A humourless laugh escapes through your lips. "Of course not, that's practically suicide. If my father hears about it, he will murder me on the spot."

Uncle Lucius once told you that you are expected to marry into a good and pure family to maintain your father's reign ─ once he rises again and takes over he needs his heir to have heirs of their own.

After that, the conversation kinda falls silent. You drum with your fingers on your knees before you stand up. "Well... it was great, but I have to get back and get dressed before we pull into the station. Don't let the colour scare you."

As you close the door, you hear Hermione hiss at Harry, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"It's her way of saying don't be a stranger. With her house and everything", Harry explains, shrugging.

Ron scoffs. "There are no nice Slytherins."

The comment earns the redhead a glare. "She's a nice Slytherin."

Taglist (bold means I can’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 2 months

Note

Can I request what are the Bayverse's kids clothing style?

Take ur time ☺️

The Kid’s Clothing Style

Bayverse!Turtles x reader

A/N: I like to think that these are pictures they have found on the internet and liked, in order to get inspiration for their outfits. This outfits would be more accurate of what they would wear from their mid/late teens to mid/late twenties💚

Warnings: None💚💚

Important for all:

All the children have a physic that is closer to a human, than any of their fathers have. That means that their shells are much smaller, and their heights and growths are much closer to a human’s. That gives them a much greater ability to play with and wear human clothing, in a way their fathers never have. However, they still have a lack of hair, green skin, and less digits than a human on their hands. But that does not stop them from trying dressing like humans, as they very much enjoy doing that.

Leonardo:

Romeo:

Romeo likes to keep his looks clean. Not a lot of accessories, but when he does he keeps it to a watch, one to two rings and a few hair ties. Why hair ties when he actually doesn’t have any hair? Well, ask the sweet girl Marcello has caught Romeo talking to. Romeo likes to go with very neutral colors, such as black, white, gray, beige and maybe brown, as he feels it goes better with green skin. Generally he goes with darker colors, but sometimes you can find a small pop of something light here or there.

Marcello:

The artist of the family likes to play a little with his looks. Not that he goes overboard, but he does play a little with it. Marcello usually has a baseline of black that he keeps throughout his outfits, but there are times where he will try to go out of his comfort zone, going with brown and beiges in one outfit. In his usual outfits, Marcello usually wears something that is mainly black, with a little white and some sort of eye-catching color, in a generally every eye-catching outfit. That could be with a bag of a certain shape, or many chains or belts.

Gerardo:

Gerardo is not very interested in fashion. That generally just isn’t something that he spends a lot of time thinking about. To him, it is all about comfort over looks. But he does have a tendency to gravitate towards certain colors and silhouettes. Those colors are very standard and are pretty much always present in what he’s wearing. Blue, white, gray and black. The blue is usually in his jeans, but at times it can also come from his jackets, or maybe even his sweatshirts. He keeps his shoes white, and does quite often have a white shirt under his often black sweatshirt.

Valentina:

Miss elegant, even when it’s casual. Just like her oldest brother, Valentina likes to keep her looks clean. However, where Romeo would have had less accessories, Valentina will have more, often in gold. She likes to keep a balance between the darker side and the lighter side of her color plate. If she wears something that is place, she will often wear something that is light, to break up the darkness and bring some light on her. She likes heels and small hand bags, really not helping her get rid of the Princess nickname.

Raphael:

Joan:

Joan is a very independent woman that often works out and does a lot of sports, who does not like it when her clothes get in the way of her movements. Therefore she often wears sport clothing, most often black sport clothing. That most often consists of leggings, jokers and different kinds of crop tops. When Joan first started wearing those crop tops, Raph almost had a heart attack. But that did not stop Joan from wearing them. She will often pair them with caps of different colors, neutral colored jackets and white shoes.

Minerva:

Mini is not much of a dress girl. As she got into her teens, she started gravitating further and further towards jeans, often ripped jeans. She likes to wear something with more of a street vibe to it, usually with a small pop of extra bling somewhere. She often pairs that with graphic tees, or crop tops she has “borrowed” from Joan. Tops was not the only thing that Mini “borrowed” from her big sister. Some of those things being her big sis caps or other hats. Sometimes her shoes as well. Has Joan asked her to bring them back to her? Yes. Has Mini done that yet? … Maybe.

Ragnar:

Ragnar’s style is very much about comfort over looks, but he does put importance on looks. He is the type to mainly wear jogging pants, hoodies, sweatshirts, caps, beanies, and a small bag, usually a fanny pack he will wear across his chest. Oversize in style that makes him feel nice and comfortable, providing him with a sense of security, and gives him a silhouette of being bigger and therefore stronger. Not that he isn’t strong already. These are usually in very basic colors that Ragnar finds easy to mix and match. Black, down, gray, white and beige.

Donatello:

Galileo:

Gali’s style is a little more soft, and closer to academia. He enjoys the high waisted slacks, sweaters and button up shirts. His color plate falls in the area of light blue, dark blue, black, brown and white. Although not apparent on the pictures shown from Gali’s pinterest, he also likes different shades of purple or very light shades of pink. Gali very often has his arms covered up. Not that he has anything against his arms, but simply because he likes how it looks. In his opinion, it makes him look smarter, like the scientist he really wants to become - just like his father.

Dorothy:

Dorothy is a more stereotypical girly girl, both in her style but also her interest. The majority of her closet consists of pinks, along with flower patterns, flowy pants, skirts and dresses. In her teens, Dorothy would generally cover up, as she thought that was what looked the best. But in her twenties, Dorothy would start showing off more skin, trying out new silhouettes. Yet she still kept close to her pinks, flowers and dresses. It is what Dorothy feels more comfortable with, and will continue to stick with.

Marie:

While Dorothy is a girly girl, Marie is the opposite. She is a very stereotypical tomboy, that has said no to dresses ever since she was a young girl, and gravitated towards pants and baggy clothing. Marie generally gets her clothes from her brother or her cousins, being allowed to look through the clothes they don’t want to have anymore. That meant pants, shirts, hoodies, sweatshirts or even caps. That has led Marie not only to enjoy thrifting, but also led her to enjoy upcycling clothes, often making some interesting clothing.

Michelangelo:

Sunny:

The bright and happy energy from Sunny’s personality is very much reflected in her style. She has a style that could be categorized as Y2K, often gravitating towards warm colors or happy patterns that are easy to dress in casual ways. She doesn’t wear many dresses, as she isn’t a fan of how they make her feel when she wears them. However pants, either jeans, loose jeans, stretchy fabric pants with trumpet legs are her favorites. When it comes to shirts, she either goes oversized or sticks to crop tops. There’s no in between.

Luis:

Luis is happy and bright, and loves to be active, and his clothes are very much a reflection of that. He wears bright colors that are as uplifting as his presence. Those colors usually consist of white, different kinds of green, blue, sometimes even orange, yellow, red, purple, and pink as well. However, his articles of clothing are pretty basic. They consist of jeans, slacks, t-shirts and sweatshirts. Luis does like sweatshirts more than he likes hoodies. Sometimes he might wear a beanie or cap, but he does not like to have a hood. To him it feels like it pulls on his clothes.

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simplydannie · 27 days

Text

The Runaways || The Meeting

Trigger Warning ‼️ Mention of SA and violence

One of many sets of stories that take place in Under Rageous; detailing the lives of the twins before their rise to fame in the upper city.

Veneer discovers that a gang has been eyeing his sister…. And they have no good intentions. He warns them to leave her alone, but they scoff at his words. Anger then motivates him to take matters into his own hands.

Velvet made her from the Pit with the rations she earned for the night. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for two days…. Especially now that they were feeding a third mouth.

“Freaking Veneer.” She murmured. Her brother felt sympathy and grow attached to a little Troll they had captured nearly a year ago now; Floyd was his name. He was set to be sold to the black market, but Veneer couldn’t part with him. So, he stayed. Being so small he didn’t need too big of rations, but it was still a portion from theirs they had to cut. She took her usual route home, something she always did.

“Tables set!” Veneer chimed from the kitchen, well kind of their kitchen. Their home was a rundown studio. Instead of plastered walls, they had unmatched boards as were the floors. The studio was made up of two small floors, one floor had Velcefs bed while the other had Veneers. Right next to the bedding area was a small kitchen and a couch: at the center, a metal raised board that called a table. Today’s rations were to be delicious, at least that’s what the rumor was around the Pit.

“Table clothes? Huh, where’d we manage table clothes.” Floyd smiled as he hopped on the table. Veneer had made Floyd a tiny dark, orange denim vest. When they found him, all he had were his dark, brown worn out pants and a back pack.

“Got them in a trade! Thought it spruce up the place a bit. Don’t you think?” Veneer asked.

Floyd smiled and nodded, “Definitely gives it something. Let’s get the plates. Vels should be here any minute.”

Veneer glanced at the clock. She was only 3 minutes past her usual time…it wasn’t that bad. She’d be walking in through that door any moment…. Right?

Velvet neared her home, she paused when she saw a group of heathens waiting for her. The leader of them saw her and smiled a sharped tooth grin.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He said. He was tall, about a few years older than she was. His burgundy stringy hair fell down his head, making them look like dreadlocks. A dark over jacket covered his pale bare chest, cargo pants and boots fashioned the bottom half. He was known as Scathe around this part of Under Ragous… and he was very persistent of Velvet.

She ignored him and attempted to walk by. His group blocked her way, keeping her from moving any further, “Move douchebag.” She said.

“Ooohh I LOVE it when you talk like that.” Scathe remarked running his finger along her arm. “I love it when you dress like that too.” She wore her usual dark pink vest over her black tight shirt, mini skirt with combat boots…nothing much but enough to turn him on.

“Drop dead.” She shoved his hand away.

“Baby girl, when are you going to give me a chance?”

“When your dead sounds good.”

“God, I love them spicey.” Scathe attempted to wrap his hands around her waist. She shoved him away, kicking him in the groin.

“I said no!” Velvet backed away. She shoved her way and maneuvered herself from Scathe and his gang. Her hand went to her back pocket where she had a hidden shank; if she had to stab someone in the neck to make home to her brother alive, she’d do it.

“Take a hint, dick.” She scowled.

“Oh I can definitely give you some of that…”

Veneer paced up and down the kitchen frantically. She was now 10 minutes past her time. Where was she?

“Maybe the job took longer than expected.” Floyd had been trying to calm him down, but no luck.

Veneer kept biting his nails, glancing at the clock, “No, no, no. She’s never this late. Never.”

“I said no!”

Velvet? It was her voice. He knew his sister’s voice anywhere. Floyd’s ears also perked up.

“You heard that too?”

“I did.” Floyd responded. Veneer ran to the front door… he paused, he dug around a desk and pulled out a knife.

“Ven!” Floyd exclaimed.

“You never know.” With the Troll on his shoulder, Veneer walked outside…. Not far from where he stood, he saw his sister surrounded by five guys, one of them standing near her, a hungry look on his face.

“Hey!” He shouted.

Scathe glanced up to see Veneer headed their way, “Looks like the prick is going to ruin the fun. See you later baby girl.” He ran a finger along Velvets cheek. She spat in his face in return. The boys laughed before walking away. Veneer finally made it by his sisters side, the knife firmly grasped in his hand. Velvet didn’t turn away until the group of boys were out of sight.

“Vels?” She heard Veneer call her.

“Let’s go home.” Grabbing her brother by the arm, she turned him away and walked back.

“Are you okay?” Floyd asked from Veneers shoulder.

“I’ve handled those jerk faces before. Nothing new.” She replied as she headed up the steps leading to their small studio.

“Wait. Before? They’ve harassed you before?” Veneer shook her grasp away and stared wide eyed at his sister. “How come you’ve never told me this?”

“Because I know how worked up you get! It’s nothing Vennie, come on.” She reached out to pull him inside.

“No! You’re walking around with those idiots after you! How can I not be worried?” An anger crossed his voice. How could she keep something so important from him? How?

“I don’t want you doing anything stupid Ven! I know you.”

“That’s not an excuse!”

“Guys!” Floyd intervened jumping from Veneers shoulder and onto the steps below. He looked up at the giant Rageons. “Stop! This is not a matter to be fighting for. Velvet, you really need to tell us about these things! We worry for you. If something EVER happened to you, we wouldn’t forgive ourselves. You understand!” Velvet only crossed her arms and turned away in response.

“Veneer, she’s right. You have the tendency of taking things in your own hands and doing something reckless. So don’t! We’re going to figure this out together. Got that?”

Veneer also crossed his arms. Both twins turned their heads in defeat away from Floyd…. He was right. Ever since his presence there, he had become the voice of reason between the two…. A father figure. They both let out a sigh of defeat.

“Yes dad.” The mumbled in unison.

Floyd sighed, “Good. Now let’s go eat.”

The next evening, it was Veneers turn to go to the Pit to look for a job for the days rations. Though he tried to understand what Floyd had told him the day before, he couldn’t get the thug and his gang out of his mind. The thoughts of how many times they harassed his sister remained. What if one day they took it far? What if one day the kidnapped her? Killed her? His mind whirled and whirled with thoughts.

“Ven. Ven!” He finally heard Velvet call out to him. He looked at his sister in the eyes. “You sure you’re good to go today? You seem… out of it.”

“I just… I just didn’t sleep well.” Veneer responded.

“Maybe I’ll just go…”

“No!” Veneer interrupted her. “I want to do this one.” He said. She fixed up the collar of his red vest and straightened his purple beanie.

“Be careful. If you’re not back…” She began.

“I know. I know. I’ll be back.” He held out his pinky. “Promises.”

“Promises.” She wrapped her pinky around his. Floyd smiled from the shelf by the door.

“Be careful.” He warned. Veneer smiled at both and was out the door.

The Pit was busier than normal. As jobs became less around then under city, more and more Under Rageons clustered for a chance to pick up an illegal job in desperation for rations. As always, Veneer was one of the youngest ones there. He glanced a the listings and listened in to the offers. Veneer heard of one that would lead him out into the Rageous Woods, he began to wonder if that one would be to dangerous when he heard a familiar conniving laugh. He turned his head to spot the jerk who was hitting up on his sister the other night. Veneers blood began to boil, they laughed as if nothing bothered them, as harassing a girl was just part of their normal routine. Before his mind could comprehend anything, Veneer was walking towards them.

One of boys in the group nudged their the leader, the dreadlocked Rageon, the one who touched his sister. He turned to eye Veneer as he walked closer.

“Well look here. The prick who blocked my advances the other night. He graces us with his presence boys.” Scathe chimed, earning a laughter from his crew. Veneer pouted his face, attempting to look more menacing. Everyone around him laughed…. His blood boiled again.

“Stay away from my sister.” He demanded. The boys around him gazed upon him with amusement.

“Excuse me?” Scathe said.

“Y-you heard me.” Veneer replied attempting to hide his stutter. Scathe flicked the cigarette he was smoking to the ground. He stood, walked slowly to Veneer… he was nearly a foot taller. He looked down at Veneer with his red spiraled eyes, a smirk coming across his face.

SMACK!

He hit Veneer square in the jaw. Scathe kneeled down, his knee on Veneers neck.

“Don’t you dare command me.” He spat. He stood up and kicked Veneer in the ribs. The small Rageon grunted in pain. “Who the hell do you think you are!” He kicked him again. One by one his gang joined in, kicking and hitting Veneer on the ground. He attempted to block the blows, lifting his arms, he shielded his face. Pain soared through his body… there was many people around them, but none came to help.

After what felt like eons, they stopped. Pain pulsated through Veneers body. He spat out blood from where they were able to kick him in the face. Scathe bent down and pulled Veneer by his hair to meet his eyes.

“Your sister is mine now. One day, I’ll sneak on over there. Give her the night of her life. She’ll scream my name… and you, well you’ll be there to watch the show. Watch me show your sister a good time, watch her moan in satisfaction. Mark my words douchebag.” He shoved Veneers face back to the ground. Scathe and his gang laughed as the retreated back into an alley. His words echoing in Veneers mind… He threatened his sister. She wasn’t safe walking around the streets so long he was around. He balled his fists, heat radiating through his body, his mind began to blank as anger and hatred for Scathe filled him to the core. With anger in his eyes, Veneer glanced towards the direction the other Rageons went. To his left….a crowbar.

Standing up he wrapped his fingers around the crowbar and pursued the gang. They didn’t make it far before they stopped to smoke again. Veneers foot prints echoed in the alley.

“Back for more? Want your sister to scream my name already…”

CLING!

Veneer swung the crowbar, hitting Scathe square in the head. The Rageon fell over motionless.

“GO. TO. HELL!” Veneer screamed as he bashed Scathes head. The gang around him jumped him, pulling him away from their leader… but Veneers anger surpassed them all. One by one he smacked them in the head with the crowbar.

“YOU WILL NEVER TOUCH HER!!” He cried as he beat each and everyone. He went back and beat Scathe more and more….again and again….Silence then fell around the alley. Veneer tried to steady his breathing as calmness overcame him. Finally, he looked down at the damage he did.

“Oh….my…. God….” He murmured as the lifeless bodies lay around him. The crowbar fell out of his hand with a clang. His clothes had blood smeared all over them… but it was not his own. His body began to tremble… he couldn’t be here… he need to go….so he ran home.

Velvet was sitting on the floor with Floyd, splitting and portioning the rations when Veneer barged through the door.

“Ven?” She turned around in surprise at his early arrival. “Why are you so- oh my god.” She gasped, covering her mouth seeing the blood on his clothes. She ran to her brother as he collapsed on the couch.

“Ven! What…. What happened? Who hurt you?” She demanded. His was lost in thought, his eyes glued to the floor.

“Veneer!” Floyd’s voice snapped him back to reality. Tears began stinging his eyes.

“Oh my gosh… oh my gosh, oh my gosh!…” He whispered.

“You’re not making any sense. What happened!” Velvet demanded as Veneer buried his face into his hands as he cried.

“They threatened you Velvet. They threatened you. I couldn’t let it happen.” He cried. A realization hit Floyd.

“No… Veneer please tell me you didn’t…”

Velvet looked between the Troll and her brother, confusion still plastered on her face. She knelt down in front of her brother, grabbing his face in both her hands she forced him to look at her.

“WHAT. HAPPENED!” She demanded.

“….. I have blood on my hands Vels…. I got so angry….i didn’t want them to hurt you…..I killed them….I killed them all.”

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sinnohsiblings · 2 months

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It was hot, boiling under his skin even, a flood of outraged voices which seldom completely agreed on anything all crying out in unison to rend this vile little rodent who dare make a mess of his home a second time.

One voice screamed loudest and therefore took the front of his personality as Abbadon was driven by the rage of his fighting plate. One of the million golden arms manifesting from his ring angrily gripping the unconcious Shaymen with a grip so tight you'd think he'd pop him. Shae found himself shaken awake by the booming voice ringing through his entire body, shaking petals and leaves from his pelt as the maw of the Arceus comanded,

Shae couldn't initialy register what was said to him due to the sheer volume but it was un fortunently made volently clear when he felt himself be swiftly pulled behind the Arceus in a wind up fashion,

He heard the Arcus bellow, before everything when white from the sheer force he was thrown from the planet, hard enough to rip through the viel of the Universe and send him flying into the void in the direction of the world he was origionally traded to.

"Shae!!!" His wife called in a panic running out to try and intercept the other Arceus, "Abbadon have you lost all sense of restraint?!" The larger Arceus's head snapped to look down at the smaller female, his eyes cold and a laced intent of malice that made the other cower under his gaze, "YOU DARE CROSS ME IN MY OWN HOME?! SINCE YOU INVITED HIM WHY DON'T YOU JOIN HIM AND LEAVE!" He screeched as his long whip like tail snapped across the ground severing several tree trunks in half. "THIS GALA IS OVER! GUARDS REMOVE THESE POKEMONE FROM MY HOME!" As the Zacien and Zamazenta worked quickly and quietly to remove the guests from the palace without provoking the Arceus further, said Arceus stilled himself enough to shift back into a humanoid form, trudging off to speak with his wife who was quickly making her way over to him with an furrowed brow. Seeing as the party was over Parisa and Dagon retrieted to their chanbes while Galadrial, Zephyr, Diva, Yvette and Xavier retreated to the void with plenty of booze in tow, with how much of a disaster this party was for some of them, they could at least have a mini-one to make them forget it. The gala night ends with many mixed feelings and soon to follow the ramifications of what will be a drunken mistake between friend.

The Sinsib gala has officially ended on this blogs timeline! The following aftermath post will take place the moring after the gala (All post made that take place after the events of the gala also take place after the ramification post on the timeline.)

#sinsibgala #sketch #abbadonarceus #tw alchol #shaeshaymin #plot post #ariarceus

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gillyeowalters · 1 month

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Warframe Design Notes

Hei, so today I want to start my mini series on Warframe designs in which I will try to analyse the visual design of all Warframes and find out what they potentially are based on. Today I want to start with an easy one, Ash. Ash is the classical ninja. Like many early Warframes, his design is heavily influenced by japanese design elements. The stereotypical ninja outfit we know out of popular culture is based on the kuroko from kabuki theater, stage hands dressed in all black. The tabi/toe shoes and the legwraps are directly taken from these outfits, although kuroko would have worn a different type of head dress. The arms are covered by chitin plates that are made to resemble sode armor plates-they even include the ropes holding the plates together. Why chitin plates? Because Ash is also based on insects, which is easily proven if we take a look at the names of his variant helmets (Scorpion, Locust). He even has mandible like parts on his helmets-it also explains its color theme; historical ninja's probably weren't dressed in black anyways and the brown and beige hues give him a beetle like look. Beetles apparently (please correct me here!) are symbols of rebirth and transformation in Buddhism, which matches the themes of the game. And they are small, barely noticable-perfect for a character that is supposed to be stealthy.

Please correct me on any mistakes I have made, I only have an old french book on fashion and the internet at hand to help me with these analysis and I do not want to be culturally insensitive.

#warframe #warframe art #warframe analysis #warframe ash

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lovejosephquinn · 1 year

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Authors Note: A new mini series that I've thought about off of the top of my head, could flop, who knows but I'm excited to see how it unfolds. Please feel free to leave a comment or reblog if you're enjoying it, also if you want adding to the tag list for future parts/updates just lmk 🥰

Summary: Joe and reader have never seen eye to eye, growing up together and even further along the line in adulthood. There’s always been something lurking in the back of their minds. It couldn’t be, they share a mutual hatred and can’t stand the sight of one another. Surely, it’s been a long time coming but will the tension finally break into something more beautiful? Time tells all truths.

Under 18's DNI. Warnings: slow burn, no smut just yet we're setting the scene here, reader does not like our boy (sorry) Word Count: 2.7k

Taglist: @eddiemunson-mylove @daleyeahson @ali-r3n @quinnypixie @thefemininemystiquee @winchester-angel @ayooooo0 @wonderheartz @avobabe87 @palomahasenteredthechat @chickennug90 @emma77645 @pepsimunson @figmentofquinn @ches-86 @sugarheart-riot @shawnamae87 @joeqnz @kayleeelena97 @etherealglimmer @birdysaturne @freakymunson @aol19 @coley0823 @lma1986 @eddiesgirls12 @poisonedluv @aysheashea @credulouskhaleesi @xlilithb

Part 1 ✨ Part 2 ✨ Part 3 ✨ Part 4

It’s true, you couldn’t fucking stand each other; you’d never been able to since the moment you laid eyes on him. You knew each other from school, sharing some lessons with him, having to bare the sight of him through your pubescent years and since the traumatic days of hormones and teenage dramas you’d never failed to find Joe on the television, you had eventually come to the conclusion that you would never get rid of Joe.

His stupid face, his smile and his eyes, the way his little freckles hugged his nose and fluttered around his features. The way his posture stood perfectly and the way his curls were scraped back perfectly when he’d used product. The way his oversized fashion sense suited him, never missing a smart shirt even if the odd time it happened to be creased had always somehow made him looked good. He bit his finger nails down to the core, he was perfectly imperfect and had a personality only the rarest of people seem to carry nowadays. Everyone seemed to adore him, everyone but you.

You even couldn’t stand the sound of his name, it infuriated you in ways you couldn’t describe. Joe-sef. Why wasn’t it spelt the way it was pronounced? His friends thought the world of him, girls would always leap themselves his way even in the early days of knowing him, it seemed the whole world was to be always served to him on a plate and you just couldn’t understand why it was every time you saw Joe, you had the feeling of wanting to scream in his pretty little face, scuff up his lovely head of hair, punch his lights out to see his reaction or just plainly to understand what all the fuss was about.

Joe felt the same way about you, he’d always thought you self centred, above everybody else and as arrogant as they come. A bitch. There was no denying he’d quietly thought of you as attractive, never letting out that thought way deep down but he’d never took the time to properly know you so he didn’t really understand who you even were. A little contradictive seeing as the situation was vice versa. He’d always followed you from his sights from a far with his deep chocolate brown doe eyes, the evil stare always cascading in the middle of your space in the form of a dead eye was the only way you'd ever seem to interact.

Even though this secret enemy to enemy based thing had been going on for years, you never changed your opinions on one another. You had lived close by together in the same neighbourhood in an all too close proximity where you could see his garden from your bedroom window when you were younger, where you'd often scowl when you saw him.

The sad truth in fact was when you'd unfortunately found yourself moving into the same complex as one another as adults, bumping into each other in the corridor, your front doors opposite. What are the god damn chances. Why in all of the grand city of London did you have to continue to live in the vicinity of this person. Was it something you'd done in another life to ruin your current one? You'd had to quickly shake off the thought of moving out before you had even progressed into your new home.

Joe shared his current home with his long time best friend Wesley, most people knew him and rated him the class clown, you could probably have thought of better back handed compliments to suggest. You'd hear them often stumbling in from nights out, competing to see who could be louder than who at 3am. On the rarest of occasions you'd hear the giggle of the unfortunate females who they'd more than likely targeted and fancied their chances at a one night stand with. Wesley wasn't exactly in your top ten either, the double act that they perceived themselves to be or in your case: tweedledum and tweedledee as you referred to them with a wicked smirk would at least calm you and give your brain some clarity. You lived alone, answering to nobody and living the independent life, just the way you liked it, peaceful and quaint; well when you weren't being heavily distracted by grown immature men that was.

If all of this was so apparent, why would you go out of your way to let him into your head a good chunk of the time? It was like the detestation had somehow formed this version of Joe in your head that you couldn't stop rationalising. Your own copy of the dictionary would of replaced the very word dislike with his name if you could republish it yourself. It was rare you even felt this way about anyone, but since you could remember you've just seen through him and what you think about his false pretensive ways just wind you up further. You've probably spoke a grand total of ten words to his face, which include excuse me if you wanted to get past, probably even though at the time there was more than enough room; you were doing it just to be spiteful.

You remembered your first day at your new place well. When Joe had caught wind that there was a new person arriving into the complex, a younger female gracing his presence above all else, you'd got a fellow neighbour assisting to bring your more heavier furniture from the moving van after offering to help outside. Upon seeing it was you who came sauntering around the corner, locking eyes with him when he was hovering against his open door to get a glance at the new potential 'victim', you'd been heavily avoided the moment he came to realisation that it was the bitch girl from school, not forgetting years later that you two were sworn enemies for no good reason at all. You noticed that Wesley had popped his head over Joe's shoulder to get a look in, but within seconds Joe pushed back with such force you heard a bump, sudden commotion and laughter, the door shut abruptly with a miniscule inch of a view of Wesley on the floor.

"What was all that about?" The older man looked confused at you as he carried your box inside.

"No idea." You shrugged it off, hoping to not get off on the wrong foot with at least one of the strangers who had stopped what they were doing to come to your aid.

You glanced at the sealed boxes that were perfectly labelled, the place bare and screaming to be made your own. You rubbed your hands over your face as your neighbour kneeled down to place the last box in the centre of the kitchen's space.

"That's the last of it. You need any more help kid?" Kid.

You offered him a grateful smile and shook your head. "No. Thank you for the help, would of been at this for hours if it weren't for you!"

"Name's Dan, I'm only a door away to the right if you change your mind."

"Y/N. It was nice to meet you."

He stood still by the door for a second, hoping not to make it too awkward of a goodbye by waiting for you to suggest for him to stay to save the day once more with the tedious task of unpacking.

"Well, see you around!"

Then you were alone. Closing your eyes, you tilted your head back, a large inhale come exhale of the wonderful silence you were now experiencing for the first time today. It was a lot. You'd never dealt with this whole moving thing alone, it was something you had to come to terms with quick due to the fact your parents wanted you out of the house for good.

You settled down on the sofa which was conveniently provided to you by the landlords of the complex, luckily the majority of the furniture was already supplied so you wouldn't have the crappy job of forking out for new things just yet. Taking off your jacket, you decided that enough was enough for one day and that you'd begin again tomorrow. You placed it over yourself, lifting your legs up and edging down into the material to get a little more comfortable. Your eyes were heavy, nothing short of becoming a little fuzzy from the tiring events of relocation.

Once you'd eventually succumbed to the inevitable lengths of exhaustion, it seemed like you'd blinked and day had turned into night. The silence wasn't so silent anymore when you could hear the sound of music vibrating the walls and floor. You groggily scramble around to find your phone out of your pocket, clicking at the side button a few times to view your lock screen. You wiped over your eyes as you threw your head upwards to look over at the front door situated behind your sofa, your comfortable state slowly leaving you from the booming rhythms played on the outside. A small but intended huff from your nose escaped you as you could only now guess who was making all of the noise.

You stood up from your safe space, forgetting your jacket which was once placed over you now huddled around your feet on the floor. Picking it up and putting it on, you walked over to the kitchen area, turning on the tap to wet your face to make you at least feel somewhat human. Collecting yourself, you wandered over to the front door and swung it open, listening out to which direction the music was disrupting your hefty attempt at relaxation.

Your assumptions were completely correct in where the sounds came from. Now that you were only a few feet away, you could distinctly make out the sound of chatter coming from the inside of Joe and Wesley's flat, they were not alone. It infuriated you from the inside out that a house party was going on on your first night here, even more so now that you knew it was him hosting the god damn thing.

You moved forward and bashed your fist as hard as you could against the wooden frame, making your immediacy known to the idiots on the other side of said front door. You overheard an unknown male voice yelling at the top of his lungs over the loud noise. "Mate, there's someone at the banging at the door."

Not but a few seconds later, the entrance swung open and you looked up to see a half cut Wesley stood before you, gripping onto the door frame as he tried to make himself seem a little more sober than he appeared to be.

"What can I do you for?" An over dramatic hiccup followed. "I mean, do for you?" He asked with a stupid smile attached to his stupid face.

"Is this a regular occurrence?" You folded your arms.

"What?" You weren't particularly sure if he was playing dumb or was just that over consumed by alcohol that his brain cells had shrivelled up and died, the second option seemed more plausible to you.

"House parties at this hour." You weren't beating around the bush, you were in full adamance to get straight to the point and be done with this antagonising conversation, if that's what you could really call it.

"It's not even midnight love, don't get your knickers in a twist." He dropped the idiotic smile quickly and reverted to a scowl.

"Well some of us were asleep."

"Apparently not all of us though." You barely even realised you were rolling your eyes when you heard the all to sadly familiar voice of Joe standing guard behind his best friend who had clearly been awaiting his come-uppance to get a chance to make an unnecessary sarcastic dig towards you.

"Whatever, just please keep it down for my sanity yeah?" You intended on ending it there, but it was obvious to you now that Joe was refusing to let you have the last word.

"Nice to see you to Y/N." Joe smirked, your blood at boiling point almost immediately as you threw daggers his way. His chin was resting down on Wesley's shoulder, you're pretty sure in you own imagination your current fantasy was that if Wesley wasn't stood int he way, you'd of reached up and pulled on those disgustingly pretty curls that sat perfectly a top of his head, dragging him to the floor. Your subconscious mind was rooting for you, but instead you just stood there feeling rather deflated and repulsed.

You advanced to stick your thumb up towards Joe and turned around to go back into your flat before promptly being called back by Wesley, to both yours and Joe's astonishment, the way he'd said your name in such a subtle tone.

"Why don't you come in and have a drink?"

"No." Joe hollered. "No." You mimicked.

"Come on, just being a good neighbour." Wesley beckoned you with his hand. First of all you were barely dressed for such occasion, comfy clothes adorned with little to no make up and what was left was pretty poor from being asleep. "Right Joey?" They were honestly like a married fucking couple.

Joe made his groan evident, forcing the weight of the head on his shoulders to nod along to Wesley's good cop nature, if only he was just making the whole façade up, he wasn't.

"Honestly. Thanks for the offer. But I'm not bothered and neither's he." You pointed over at Joe who was now staring down at the floor like a told off child.

You ignored any more of Wesley's calls and walked away, shutting the door behind you, slumping up against it, annoyed at yourself for even letting yourself interact with someone you highly detested.

You went over to the boxes stacked around your kitchen, opening up one of them to pull out a glass for you to pour yourself some water so you could at least quench your thirst from the dried up mouth you'd conceived whilst wasting your oxygen in some way. Gulping a large amount of h20, a light tap came from your door, a blink and you'd miss it type of sound. You raised an eyebrow and dragged your feet over to open it, nobody was there. You stepped out to look around but the corridor was empty, your foot touched a foreign object that had been placed on the floor. Looking down to observe, a can of beer stood solo at the tip of your toes, not far from being on it's way to being knocked over by your heavy move.

You leaned down to pick up the can, squinting at the little post-it note that was stuck to it. For you, you can't hate him forever. Wes x

Was it that obvious to someone else that you'd always felt a strong level of regard with disgust for Joe? Apparently so. If Wesley was so adamant in being the peacemaker that made you at least acquaintances then he'd have to try a little harder than offering you a beverage by placing it and playing knock a door run. As much as Wesley had done your head in big time at school with his advanced levels of class clown-isms, you'd thought the note to be quite adorable in all fairness to him, so you took off the note, placing it onto the kitchen counter as a reminder that he maybe wasn't so bad when he wanted to be or the fact he'd maybe matured a little bit. Either way the can made it's way into the bin and you headed off to bed, refusing to think anymore of the whole ordeal.

#tell me how you hate me #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn angst #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn x reader

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theamityelf · 11 days

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How does mini thh and sdr2 cast pet place look like? I remember aoi had cup as swimming pools but how about others? I'm sorry if confusing English isn't my first language.

This is a great question (and your English is perfectly fine)!

This is just a brainstorm, but here's what I'm thinking right now.

Mini THH AU

Okay, first, let's look at the standard SDR2 room (with the understanding that some people have bookshelves, etc.)

Most of the senpais would put their kouhai's living space on the long, wooden piece of furniture beneath the TV. (Would we call that a dresser? A TV stand? Idk.) It's a lot of space for a tiny person to walk around, and they can get to the little cushioned seat from there.

Makoto- Nagito is very resourceful, so he would set up a very practical living space for Makoto. I'm thinking the bed is an empty matchbox wrapped in bubblewrap, or something of the sort, and any fabric can serve as a blanket. It's comfortable, creative, and simple. The bed is positioned in the little corner near the cushioned seat, so he doesn't get too much direct sunlight. There's a call bell nearby, in case he needs to get Nagito's attention, since it would be really hard for him to make himself heard otherwise, especially if Nagito is asleep. He also makes sure the floor below is covered in soft things, in case Makoto falls or, in extreme cases, needs to jump. (He lectures Makoto that, if someone ever breaks in to kill Nagito, he should jump down and hide under the cushioned seat, where they won't be able to reach him. And he asks that Makoto not rat out the killer, as that would ruin the game and it's Nagito's final wish that he not ruin the game.)

Kyoko- Hajime folds up a blanket and puts it in a shoebox for her. That's where she sleeps. She frequently climbs out and wanders around; she is very rarely still there when he wakes up. It scares him half to death, how she just disappears on him. Her general attitude toward that is "I understand why you feel that way, but I need to investigate, so it can't be helped."

Byakuya- I'm going to say that Sonia converts a jewelry box into a multi-story house for him. There are stairs and everything. His blankets are handkerchiefs monogrammed with her initials. There are snacks, and there is a water bottle like the kind hamsters use, which Gundham taught her how to make. Byakuya has gone out of his way to optain a pin light, and once they have access to the library, he uses an open book as the fourth wall of his little house. So, he can read at night.

Aoi- I think at some point I said something like "Akane gives her a fish bowl", but I think it might be more of a bin of water. Like, a rectangular bin, long enough that she can kind of swim laps. Her bed is a shoebox with a blanket inside. She has a cup of water, separately, in case she gets thirsty, and a plate with a doughnut on it (covered by plastic wrap, to avoid attracting bugs). And I think Akane might at some point worry about Hina having a balanced diet, so maybe there's some chicken alongside the doughnut. As a late night snack.

Yasuhiro- Bowl with a blanket.

Toko- Gundham creates a little room. Like Nagito, he fashioned a bed with an actual attempt at a sturdy box covered by a cushioning surface in addition to whatever serves as a blanket. He makes sure she has paper, something to write with, and a light. Every night, he makes sure her living space is clean (no dust or pet hair that would make her sneeze) before he sends her to bed. The walls and ceiling of her terrarium are formed by an upside-down shoebox with a hole cut into it for a door. She also has a window cut into it, through which she can drink from another hamster-style water bottle if she wants. On one hand, I'm sure Gundham makes every attempt to prevent his hamsters from bothering her, but on the other hand, I like to imagine Toko cuddling with one of them in her sleep. Like, Gundham wakes up and sees only three hamsters in whatever cage or habitat they sleep in, and he takes the box off of Toko's room and find her cuddling with San-D. I just think it would be sweet.

Sayaka- Shoebox with a blanket. And there's a kazoo in it that is too big for her to use, and maybe a small teddy bear or other stuffed animal.

Mukuro- Shoebox with a blanket.

Leon- Shoebox with a blanket, but there's also a fun tiny obstacle course. And the hanging plant is taken down, so that Leon can climb into it if he needs to, because Nekomaru knows all about late night bathroom breaks, and there's no judgement here. It's all fertilizer, man!

Chihiro- Kazuichi goes all out. Chihiro has a working shower, a working toilet (empties into the trash can), a working fan, and a covered living space with a motorized door.

Mondo- Shoebox with a blanket, which Fuyuhiko places on a small table that he pulls close to his bed, on the side that can't be accessed from the door. There's another shoebox with a blanket (a decoy one) on the dresser, but Mondo sleeps in the one by his bed.

Taka- His bed is a shoebox with a blanket, but it's in bed with Mikan rather than on a dresser or table. She stuffs pillows around it, to make sure it doesn't fall out of the bed while she's sleeping. (That's just where he sleeps; he does have a little space on the dresser, where he can get dressed and walk around and stuff.) Sometimes, in her sleep, Mikan will reach into the box to make sure he's still there. So, like...imagine you're sleeping and a giant finger just lightly grazes your back.

Hifumi- Upside-down shoebox with one wall removed and a blanket under it. Instead of the dresser, he's on her photography desk in the far corner, so when he wakes up, he steps out of the box and looks at her photos in the light of the rising sun.

Celeste- Chiaki builds an elaborate, multi-shoebox house that is cool but completely impractical. There is a bed, but it's very difficult to navigate to. Celeste just drags her blanket down to the cushioned seat and sleeps there.

Sakura- Hiyoko just straight up puts Sakura in bed with her, with nothing to prevent Hiyoko from rolling over and squishing her. She also sleeps with a few stuffed animals and a bag of gummy bears.

Junko- Shoebox with a blanket, suspended where the hanging plant once was to avoid letting her get into any mischief while he's sleeping. (Imposter has calculated the elevation, relative to her size, and determined that if she fell or jumped, she wouldn't die; she would just be too injured to do anything else.)

Mini Senpais AU

Now, let's see the standard THH room. (Except ignore the sword, lol.)

The viable surfaces there are the table, desk, and shelf.

Nagito- He's on the table, which is pulled relatively close to Makoto's bed, with a bridge between them so he can wake or otherwise access Makoto if he needs to. He has a flashlight and some reading materials. His bed is a shoebox with one side cut out and a blanket inside. He has a pillowcase acting as a shade/tent over his living space. He also (upon his own request) has a rope or ladder allowing him to climb down to the floor if he wants to. It's pretty cool.

Hajime- Shoebox with a blanket, on the shelf. Specifically, the part of the shelf that can't be seen from the door. And Kyoko might use strategically-positioned laundry to keep people from looking in that corner too closely. It's against the rules to let one's senpai die; best to be careful. She can't solve the mystery if she loses him.

Sonia- Byakuya takes the drawers out of his desk and makes that emptied space Sonia's room. A watch box serves as the bed, a cufflink box serves as her wardrobe, and a handkerchief hangs as a shade for privacy. At least for the first night; he'll commission one of the other boys (probably Hifumi) to build something with a roof. Namely, it would be a four-wall dollhouse that opens with a latch and hinge. It stays open all the time, though, because Sonia feels kind of claustrophobic, knowing she can't open it once it's closed. Byakuya didn't intend it as a power trip; it just seemed like the most luxurious option. Also, there's a jewelry chandelier. Byakuya interior decorates the crap out of that thing.

Akane- Shoebox with a blanket, on the desk. Hina also pulls out the drawers to act like a ladder, so Akane can wander the room as much as she wants. And there are snacks in the top drawer. The issue is, Hina likes to run laps around her room in the morning, and Akane thinks it's fun to run around while she's doing that and narrowly avoid getting crushed, which is terrifying for Hina.

Teruteru- Shoebox with a blanket, on the table. There are windchimes dangling above it, and whoever wakes up first rings the windchimes.

Gundham- He's on the shelf. Toko probably gives him a towel from the bathroom to sleep on. It's soft enough, and he can fold a corner over himself for a blanket.

Ibuki- Pillow on the shelf.

Peko- Shoebox with a blanket, on the desk.

Nekomaru- Shoebox with a blanket, on the shelf.

Kazuichi- On the table. Chihiro initially goes the shoebox-with-a-blanket route and feels pretty proud of it, but finding out that a lot of people did that and considered it the low-effort, obvious option, Chihiro feels ashamed and tries to build something with the tool kit. It doesn't come out very good, because they've never built anything like that before, and Kazuichi reassures them that he likes the shoebox. It's comfortable. It works.

Fuyuhiko- Shoebox with a blanket, on the table.

Mikan- Taka sets up curtains all around the desk so she can have privacy. He makes a bed for her out of his watch box and makes sure she always has food and water in her living space. She has a call bell in case she needs anything.

Mahiru- Hifumi makes her house before he makes one for anyone else, which accidentally results in hers being the most basic one. It's like a birdhouse, which she doesn't mind; she can go in and out of it without needing to ask for help, and she has the privacy of four walls. Hifumi's glasses case is her bed.

Chiaki- Celeste asks Hifumi to build a dollhouse for her. (The open-front kind.) Super aesthetic, super functional.

Hiyoko- She's on the shelf. Rather than on top of the shelf, Sakura gives her an interior level of the shelf, which she lines with a blanket and fills with soft things. (She found some stuffed animals in the warehouse, and Hiyoko likes them a lot; she sleeps on the tummy of a stuffed rabbit.) And there's a bell, in case Hiyoko needs something.

Imposter- There is no telling where Imposter is, in this one, but for the moment it seems he's just outside the school doing despair stuff.

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hollowwrites · 9 months

Text

The Fox and the Rabbit

Blame CharacterAI for this ENTIRELY. I have no idea where this came from but I am thankful to you C:AI

Evelyn - Is this seat taken?

Ominis - I don’t believe so (pushes the chair out with his foot)

Evelyn - Thank you. I believe I’ve seen you in the Common Room. Ominis, is it?

Ominis - Yes, and you are?

Evelyn - Evelyn Hollow. I’m new here

Ominis - Ah, well, Welcome to Slytherin.

Evelyn - Thank you. I must say, everyone has been quite nice considering the nasty rumours I’ve heard about Slytherins. I was worried I’d feel a little like a rabbit amongst wolves. (Nervous little laugh)

Ominis - Oh no, you’re quite mistake…we’re more like foxes. Cunning you see. (Smug smirk)

Evelyn - but I’m still very much a rabbit?

Ominis - Of course. I can hear you shaking and your nervous little laugh. (leaning forward across the table) Quite obviously prey.

Evelyn - and that makes you what? (Leaning in too)

Ominis - Top of the food chain? You’re a sweet little rabbit landing on the plate of a very hungry fox.

Evelyn - (Gets called over by the Professor) Well in true rabbit fashion, you’ll have to catch me first.

Masterlist

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stusbunker · 5 months

Text

Spotless: Rest

Chapter Three

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Other characters: Annie/Bobby, Sam, Charlie, Bela

Word Count: 3050

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, allusion to Dean's bisexuality, mention of past drug related death, responsible alcohol consumption, buried feelings, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Divider courtesy of @cafekitsune

Your Uber left you in Bobby and Annie’s driveway just after six the following evening. It was a casual invite for an otherwise wide open Saturday night. Just steaks on the grill and cheap beer, the promise of a Midwestern kind of night in the middle of Malibu. You’d been in California since college, but there was a part of you that needed to slow down and really connect with people. And of course Bobby and Annie got it, they were real people and practically your surrogate parents at this point.

Phone on silent, you walked around the house and let yourself into the side gate that led into the backyard. Which was small and more of a patio with a small pool and hot tub, but big enough for a grill and a set of lounge chairs and a small glass top table to eat around. Bobby waved at you as you arrived and you placed your cheek against his in passing, your usual non-business greeting. He twitched his mustache at you in his semblance of a proud smile and you headed inside through the French doors at the back of the house.

“There she is!” Annie greeted you, spinning to give you a tight squeeze as you dropped a six pack on the kitchen island to share. She had been a rockstar in her own right, an 80s sensation, but had left the stage behind when addiction had taken her bandmate before you had even reached elementary school.

“Hey, Annie. Thanks for having me over.” You beamed at the contact, as tough as Annie was she gave good hugs, nothing on Ellen back home, but you took what motherly affection you could get. It had been too long since you felt safe and welcome in that way.

“Are you kidding? Of course, girl, especially when you know to bring my beer and not surly’s.”

“Need any help?” You offered.

“Nah, just grab the plates and I’ve got the rest,” Annie pointed toward the small stack of plates with forks and knives stacked on top as she scooped up a bowl of fruit salad in one arm and a bowl of garlic mashed potatoes in the other.

You settled down with a beer apiece as Bobby finished on the grill, letting the darkness of an autumn night hover over their well lit patio. The food was delicious, but the company was better. Annie complained about her job at the animal shelter and you and Bobby griped about the label. It was cathartic and easy.

“So, spill. I can tell you got an idea about how you’re going to ‘sway public opinion’ and all, but I haven’t heard your pitch yet,” Bobby read you like a book.

You set down your beer and swallowed, looking at the former roadie and figured it was now or never. “I think— Dean needs a good woman to help him shape up.”

Annie chuckled.

Bobby scowled. “Something tells me you aren’t talking about yourself.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, nobody knows me and that would just be weird.”

You ignored the look Annie and Bobby shared. “I’ve got a friend who is semi-famous— was famous as a kid. And I think she would be able to help us sort of ‘rebrand’ Dean’s image.”

“Who is she?” Annie asked as Bobby watched you with growing suspicion.

“Bela Talbot,” you answered honestly.

“Bela Talbot? Why do I know that name?” Bobby looked at Annie.

“Like big eyes and pigtails Bela Talbot? From Red Sky in the Morning?” Annie guessed right.

“Yeah, I mean, she’s my age now. But, I figured she’d be wholesome enough on the grand scale of things.”

“Child actress, huh?” Bobby considered it.

“Yeah, she was my roommate at USC, wanted out of the limelight and has just done some modeling and fashion collabs since,” you explained, hoping neither of them had any legitimate reasons to shut you down.

“She cute?” Bobby asked after the plates were cleared and you had moved onto the beer they kept in a mini fridge on the deck.

“Gorgeous,” you replied immediately.

“But?” Bobby asked, knowingly.

You exhaled before replying, “she can be a bit testy at times. Though I know Dean would be able to keep up with her snark.”

“That all?” Bobby huffed.

“Do we need to pay her?” you asked warily.

“Anything official would come back to bite us in the ass— and I’m sure whoever is in her camp would want a cut. Even though by the sounds of it, she’d be benefiting from all the press too,” Bobby figured.

“Probably,” you agreed. “So unofficially.”

“Dean’s a big boy. Lord knows he can find his own arm candy if he wanted to. But I really don’t want to deal with asking him to start looking because you know what’s gonna crawl out of the woodwork,” Bobby said dejectedly.

“You think she would keep it civil, even if Dean is slow to come around?” Annie asked pointedly. “I trust you know what you’re doing, but we are kind of a tight bunch.”

“Not to mention overprotective,” you said, smirking at Bobby now.

“See what she says first, then we’ll tell him.”

“We will?” you asked hopefully.

“It was your idea, wasn’t it? I think it should come straight from the horse’s mouth. But I’ll back you up, don’t worry about that,” Bobby agreed.

You sighed. “Figured that was easier than I deserve.”

“You sure you’re gonna be okay plastering their faces everywhere and all the build up you do with your friend semi-dating your other—friend?” Annie made the last word sound like a slip of the tongue.

“It’s my job. Plus, it’s not like Dean’s gonna see most of it— dude hates social media,” you replied as if any of it were things they didn’t already know.

“Well, let’s just hope he doesn’t break another paparazzo's nose,” Bobby tilted the neck of his beer in your direction, a toast and almost wish in one.

“Here here,” you agreed and clinked his bottle with yours.

An hour later, after assuring Bobby you didn’t need a ride, you waited for another Uber with a tupperware full of leftovers in hand and almost an entire twenty four hours ahead of you without any real work to do. Besides your semi-regular brunch with Bela whenever the both of you got out of bed and bothered to meet up tomorrow.

As you waited, you checked your phone. And of course, it was full of texts, mostly from Charlie but Dean and Sam had texted too. By the time you read through them all, they had you suckered in for a night of Mario Kart, you just had to swing home to change before heading back out to Sam and Dean’s place in Laurel Canyon.

Okay, you didn’t have to change. You chose to. You wanted to be comfortable, because odds are you and Charlie were crashing on whatever stretch of couch you could find. Though, you didn’t want to look sloppy either, not that anyone there would even notice what you were wearing, but you felt better about yourself when you put some effort in. So, you went through your loungewear drawer and found an old USC hoodie and the leggings that made your butt look best.

You checked your hair and then grabbed a bag of kettle corn out of your pantry, knowing there’d be no lack of beverages at Casa Winchester. You climbed back into your waiting ride and settled on the fact that the radio was out of your control. Slowly you let the miles pass by in a somehow relaxing anticipation. You already had a good time at Bobby’s, now you got to see the rest of your people. And forget about the hows and whys of your latest business decision.

Because first and foremost, Dean and Sam (and Charlie) were your friends.

You stepped into Sam and Dean’s driveway behind Charlie’s rickety Gremlin, having tipped your driver well after the change of plans. Their attached garage was big enough for Dean’s inherited Impala and Sam’s newer Charger, plus all the crap Dean kept around to keep them both in the best shape. You punched in their security code, slid past their cherished rides and in through the mudroom after making sure the garage door closed behind you.

The sounds of the race were evident already and you couldn’t help but smile at their unabashed competitiveness as you walked through the house. There was a small entryway between the mudroom and the back stairway where you tossed your flip flops and your bag in a heap. You tucked your phone in your pocket and fisted the oversized bag of popcorn.

“Who’s winning?” you called out towards the living room as you made your way into the kitchen. A chorus of groans and greetings met you.

“Who do you think?!” Charlie beamed, snickering as she passed Dean’s Koopa on the track.

You chuckled as you plopped your contribution to the snack bar that Dean’s kitchen island had been transformed into. You popped open a container of grocery store cookies and stole one before heading over to watch the match wrap up. Dean, who was closest, was sitting on the longer end of the couch, his elbows on his knees, baseball cap backward and barefoot, heckling Charlie as he trailed behind her Peach on the last lap.

Sam was standing in sweats and an old Celine Dion tshirt Dean got him as a joke, but he always wore it with pride. He was barely hanging on, nearly an entire lap behind Charlie and Dean. Charlie was sitting crisscross applesauce in the corner with her specialty controller in her lap, her eyes never leaving the screen. You dared not interrupt and block anybody’s view of the obscenely large television above the fireplace, so you slinked onto the arm of the couch on Dean’s right, finishing your cookie and watching as Charlie took first despite Dean’s last second shell attack.

“EAT IT, DEAN! Bow to your queen!!! YEAH!” Charlie whooped, as Dean dropped his controller and stared at the ceiling, hands drooping in defeat.

Sam finally crossed the finish line and the standings were posted on the screen for all to see. “This is ridiculous,” Sam groaned, before turning to you and offering an arm up for a side hug. You fell against his muscular side and hugged his waist.

“How was Bobby’s?”

“Good, Annie says hey.”

Dean, turning his back on a gloating Charlie, asked “she tell you the news?”

You grew stiff and asked warily, “what news?” Sam patted your back in reassurance before leaving to grab a drink from the kitchen.

“She’s coming in to do a track with us. This coming week, I’ll get her in the box with me.”

“Are you serious?! Dude! I have only heard her sing on the radio, I didn’t know she still did,” you gushed, which was exactly what Dean needed to hear, apparently, because his face completely lit up talking to you about the new duet.

“She didn’t even tell Bobby until like Tuesday, when I sent the sheet music home with him,” Dean confided.

“So that means she’s gonna tour with you guys? God, Bobby is going to be fussing over everything,” you said, dropping onto the couch between him and Charlie. You smiled at your red headed friend and changed the subject. “Drink?”

“Please!” Dean begged. “Need something before I get my ass handed to me again.”

Charlie smirked and then batted her eyes at you. “You making? Or do I have to get up from my very comfy spot?”

“Fine! What is your highness drinking tonight?” You said as you stood and joined Sam in the kitchen, with Dean on your heels.

“Something with tequila!” Charlie shouted after you.

“Oh, boy, I’m not having what she’s having,” you muttered and made your way to the corner of the kitchen they had made into a wet bar.

“Why? Get too sloppy?” Dean teased.

“No, tequila makes me slutty, and I’m just not really dressed for that,” you said, playfully sad, even as the mischief sparked in his eyes.

Sam laughed and handed you a pair of pint glasses. “Yeah, that’s okay, I don’t think we need to hear you proposition Warluigi tonight.”

“Hey!” You laughed, hip checking him. “It would be regular Luigi at least!”

Dean sounded like he choked on his spit behind you. “Yeah, Sam, she’s got standards.”

You looked over your shoulder and tipped your head, “you’re damn right.”

Dean held your gaze and you instantly regretted the entire conversation, because his eyes were saying things you knew he didn’t really mean. He didn’t see you like that, to Dean, you were like a kid sister. But to you, Dean hit all of your standards and ruined them for everyone else. You rolled your eyes and sighed, turning back to the alcohol and tried to keep the mood light.

The heavy pour of rum in your coke, the palate cleanser you needed before the next three hours of high stakes gaming with the man you would always be in love with, his not-so-little brother and the friend you could always depend on. You fell asleep with your feet in Charlie’s lap, somehow better at the game than Sam but still not able to top Charlie’s experience. You woke just after nine with a blanket tucked around you and a glass of water left out on the coffee table.

“Then the little weasel tried to split an Uber, honestly!” Bela groaned, complaining about a bad date as you sipped mimosas in the Sunday sunshine. “What about you, darling? Please tell me you’ve at least entertained the idea of dating again. It’s been too long since you’ve had that well-fucked glow.”

You rolled your eyes, blushing, Bela’s bluntness was one of the reasons you loved her. “Tell me about it. But, its what happens when you’ve got no time or fucks to give. Um, I do have a potential target for you, though.”

“Oh? Pray tell, lord knows I need some fresh meat.” Her teeth gleamed and if it was anyone else you’d feel bad about throwing him to the lioness, but you knew Bela could be trusted with things that actually mattered.

“So, the label doesn’t trust Dean going into the current album, after, well everything,” you started, stabbing at your eggs.

“Okay?” Bela replied, unsure of where you were going.

“But I, genius that I am, assured them that I could spin his image, make some positive noise out there and all in all insure that the next tour is going to be huge. And to do that—”

“No!” Bela gasped, you smiled back at her apologetically, but desperate was probably more accurate.

You trudged on. “How would you feel about some social media smooching and public dates with a hot guy who is trying to rebuild his career?”

Bela composed herself, but the flare of her nostrils told you everything. She thought about it and let you simmer in your own anxiety as the waiter checked on your drinks. You smiled politely and sent him on his way.

“How is he doing, really?” Bela asked sternly, her eyes piercing into your soul.

You exhaled. “He’s good. It’s been a long year, but he has calmed down— left behind the bad influences. Hell, Sam’s even got him into meditation. Which is something I’d never thought I’d see. So, if you’re asking me if he is stable, the answer is yes. If you’re asking me if he’s on board with the idea—- I haven’t told him yet. I wanted you to make the first call, because no matter who it is, Dean’s not going to like it.”

Bela huffed.

“But I trust you. And I think— it’d be kind of fun to hang out more. Might even be able to tack another zero onto your follower count,” you pushed the sale.

Bela smirked, reading you and not bothering to deny the appeal. “He does clean up nicely, right? I’m not going to have to hire a stylist to keep up appearances or anything.”

You nodded, hope igniting in your belly. “I’ll talk to him, he’s got the closet he just needs to use it.”

She took a sip of her drink and looked around the patio, squinting as she drew out her decision. “Is he straight? Am I a beard here?”

“He likes girls. But I’m not entirely sure he’s completely straight, though,” you admitted, probably for the first time out loud.

Bela hummed in consideration.

“We can pay you, off the books. I’m not saying you need it, but it won’t be easy and—”

“I might be entitled to compensation,” Bela teased. “Look. I’ll think about it. But if you breathe a word of this to my mother, I will kill you. She would die before letting me date somebody as seedy as a musician. Let the old bat stay in the belfry.”

“Oh, yeah, good call, don’t want to send an old woman to the hospital,” you nodded, completely forgetting about all the people Bela would have to appease to make this happen as well.

“Y/N? Relax.” Bela eyed you. “I’m honestly considering it, if anything it would be a break in the monotony. And if I can make some idiot exes jealous along the way, all the better.”

You grinned. “That’s the spirit!”

“Another mimosa? I didn’t drive and I know you, it’d take a few more before you have to be careful,” Bela changed the subject and drew your attention back to the approaching waiter.

“Sure, why not?”

Just after eleven that night, Bela texted you that she was in. You don’t know if it was the loneliness of her apartment or the looming threat of another work week that pushed her over the edge, but you would take it. You thanked her and promised to touch base on schedules once Dean was in the loop.

You put your phone down and stared at your ceiling, it was actually happening. Something told you that Dean would go along with it, even if just for a little while. And with that thought, you slept soundly for the first time in ages.

Tagging: @deans-spinster-witch@mrswhozeewhatsis@cosicas-cuquis@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like@suckitands33@ladysparkles78@deans-baby-momma@stoneyggirl2@sassy-pelican @leigh70

Chapter Four: Bravura

#spotless series #dean/reader #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfic #rockstar au #fake dating

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