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icanseethefuture333 · 6 months ago

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How to gain followers as an influencer according to your Midheaven

Aries MC:

These influencers are blunt and say whatever that comes to mind. They have a confident aura to themselves and a lot of people gravitate towards them because of how infectious their personality is. Aries MC as influencers are competitive, bold, and outgoing. They also can have a cute and bubbly nature due to Aries being the youngest of the zodiac signs. In order to gain followers or success an influencer - speak your mind. Post pictures of yourself in the gym, dancing, or playing sports, Aries are known for their athleticism and people admire the amount of energy they possess. Aries MC do best in their career as an influencer when they are energetic and thriving in life. Their following might go down if they talk about losing or show a significant change of attitude in their content such as accepting defeat. Fans can emphasize with them if they open up about trauma and abuse.

Loren Gray’s most viral video is when she transitioned from blonde to brown hair. Making bold choices such as a change in hair color, makeup, or fashion style will attract more attention.

(Ex: Tana Mongeau, Loren Gray, Lisa)

Taurus MC:

The misconception of Taurus MCs is that they are always perceived as classy or being “refined” in their aesthetic. When the most famous Taurus MCs influencers are the exact opposite. They have this “untouchable” essence to them (“Yo voy voy voy”). Like those cool girls you pass by in the mall and never see again. They live a life of fun and luxury, their stories you always want to tune in because they’re always doing something interesting. Taurus MCs need to give little by little, share your interests while also keep an air of mystery to yourself. They are the life of the party and you can often see them enjoying good food, alcohol, and/or on vacation. Taurus MCs can pull off slick buns, gold hoops, glossy lips, and tight clothing like no other as well. Unless they are showing off their riches and bragging, people will get bored of them. They don’t want someone they can relate to, so these people often get put on a pedestal or people look up to them for motivation. Most likely to be the ones on somebody's vision board. People are turned off when they display arrogance and envy out of insecurity.

Alex Consani’s most viral video of her is at a fancy restaurant singing “Lifestyle” by Young Thug.

(Ex: Alex Consani, Alexa Demie, Selena Gomez)

Gemini MC:

These girlies are some chatterboxes. They are similar to Aries MCs in a way when it comes to saying whatever they want but what they say often… doesn’t make sense but also totally makes sense, yk? The girls that get it, get it, and the girls that don’t, don’t! Queens/kings of musically fr. Gemini MCs are good at being animated and cunning when creating content. They act really ditsy and lost but they are secretly very intelligent. To gain followers, just be WEIRD, but not weird as in it being forced to be unique and different. I mean weird as just being yourself - unfiltered. Imagine yourself at 10 years old and how annoying but funny they were then letting it out as an adult now that you have control of your life. Give your inner child that space to be creative and humorous without overthinking.

Trisha Paytas being a Gemini MC in her most viral videos. That is all.

(Ex: Trisha Paytas, Liza Koshy, Bella Hadid)

Cancer MC:

Ahh Cancer MCs, they just give mother, ykwim? Something about them is just so feminine and nurturing. If they are young in age, people are drawn to their girl/boy next door vibes. They often fit the beauty standard and are praised for their youthful features. They are way over romanticized sometimes and people have an unhealthy obsession with them. People often see Cancer MCs as overrated but honestly who cares? You are capable of gaining followers by making content with family members, at home, or honestly doing the bare minimum (this placement doesn’t require much effort).

Ari Fletcher is famous for being the girlfriend of rapper G Herbo and mother of their son, Yosohn, she often posts videos of her and their son together.

(Ex: Charli D’amelio, Ari Fletcher, Zoë Kravitz)

Leo MC:

Divaaaas. Leo MCs just give celebrity through and through. They are probably some of the youngest influencers out there. These are the people who were in their bathroom making YouTube videos at 11 and getting over millions of views just for talking about their day at school. They could talk a lot of shit and people would just tune in for the gossip. They are hilarious and entertaining to watch. Always hated but could never be imitated. They are just that it girl/boy. Leo MCs gain attention for their voluminous hair, balanced features, and radiant style. The more they shine, the better. These people gain followers when they look the most glamorous and behave unapologetically themselves. Fun to hear them talk while drunk too. Might have to make a few apologies throughout their career but their fans are loyal and would never turn their back on them lol. “They could never make me hate you ahhh😝”. Leo MCs live by the saying “only god could cancel me”, the feline that got 9 lives. Haters would even miss them if they died.

Bretman Rock’s viral contour video that’s … dare I say chaotic.

(Ex: Justine Skye, Bretman Rock, Doja Cat)

Virgo MC:

True natural beauty. These people probably started the “clean girl” trend, they are so effortlessly perfect at everything they do. Top student of their class, successful in their career, etc. You name it. Virgo MCs are admired for their good reputation and clean image (or in another case, when their reputation goes to shit, they can salvage it by being clever and profiting it off themselves. Kim Kardashian became famous for being in a sex tape and ever since then she’s been one of the biggest influencers in the entertainment industry). They gain followers for posting content of their everyday routine, cleaning habits, and comfortable but stylish wardrobe. These people lose attention when they are looking messy and dirty. Sometimes engaging in reckless behavior and not always being the “perfect” girl people perceive them as can gain attention - good or bad. These people may have a harder time keeping up with the standards people enforce onto them and often face criticism more than others which could impact their mental as well as physical health.

(Ex: Yara Shahidi, Hailey Baldwin Bieber, Maya Jama)

Libra MC:

The ultimate beauty gurus omg! These are the best people to receive beauty tips from. Unfortunately, people could never look as pretty as them but they could at least learn tips that would help them enhance their appearance with makeup, skincare, etc. Libra MCs are the embodiment of beauty and style, they make the perfect influencers and a lot of them are very popular on social media. They know how to balance humor while being serious when giving advice, giving off big sister/brother vibes. The beauty standards they present could be unattainable, so they could receive both love and hate from others because they are not able to replicate them. These influencers are the type to set trends such as “#wonyoungism” and what not. Wearing pink, using your artistic skills, and being an advocate for a cause you care about could attract more followers.

Jenna Marbles most famous video is ironically about “how to trick people into thinking you’re good looking”.

(Ex: Jenna Marbles, Kylie Jenner, Michelle Phan)

Scorpio MC:

Sexy spooky gals. Scorpio MCs possess a beauty that is haunting to the mind, they are the bad girls/boys. They are daring by nature and their quirky personalities contrast with their sensual appearance. These placements could be former porn stars or be very popular on onlyfans (*cough cough* Mia Khalifa). They are often involved in scandals, dating rumors, and people view them as dramatic. Indulge in people’s fantasies and feed into others illusions. Emphasize your eyes by doing a smoker eyeliner look, contour your cheeks, and wearing a nude lip is a signature look for the Scorpio MCs. Wearing leather, revealing, or stripper type clothing and having tattoos is part of their grand appeal as well. Entertain your fans by engaging in harmless flirting and venting about your emotions.

Quenlin has been gaining popularity recently for being involved in a dating rumor that her, Billie Ellish, and Odessa are in a throuple after making a video together.

(Ex: Emma Chamberlain, Quenlin Blackwell, India Love)

Sagittarius MC:

The one everyone wishes to find. These people become the most searched in a matter of seconds. Everyone wants to know who they are, what’s their name, and where are they from. Sagittarius MCs could be praised for their “exotic” look or extravagant style. Wear clothing and jewelry from foreign countries, these people have to give off the vibe they just came back from vacation. They are often seen sporting tans and look good in “airport fashion". To gain followers, post content of videos of yourself talking in the car, traveling, going to the airport, being on vacation, driving to your favorite places, and/or speaking in foreign languages. Sagittarius MCs become famous “unintentionally” and they experience a lot of luck and success within their career. Being too stagnant could harm their success.

Cindy Kimberly went viral after Justin Bieber posted her on his instagram asking people who she was.

(Ex: Cindy Kimberly, Khloe Kardashian, Jenna Ortega)

Capricorn MC:

These mfers are always mewing. Patrick Bateman core. These are the business moguls, supermodels, and professional gamers. They are competitive and efficient when it comes to their work. They look great in black and have noticeable tattoos. Similar to Scorpio MCs with having a baddie image but instead of being just “bad”, they give off mafia vibes. The sexy super villain that’s hard to resist and secretly rooting for. People want to know how much money they make and what they did to achieve being rich (“sprinkle sprinkle”). Capricorn MCs are appreciated for their dedication and hard work. People admire them most when they talk about their struggles and how they overcame obstacles to become successful. Although, if they are someone who benefits from nepotism, people could really despise them. Be the unbothered queen/king you’re meant to be and invest in yourself, remember your time and energy is valuable.

Rihanna’s most viral video is of her saying “she could beat me but she could not beat my outfit” during a speech.

(Ex: Vinnie Hacker, Rihanna, Kendall Jenner)

Aquarius MC:

The definition of social media stars. These are the innovators and trend starters. They are the reason influencers are so big now on the internet. Aquarius MCs gain popularity for their unique perspective and usage of technology (cameras, editing content, etc). They could post about tech, talking about interests from their fandom, doing Q&As, and having a close relationship with their fans. People admire how friendly and down to earth they are. Aquarius MCs lose followers when they are cold and distant. These people could wear just about anything but look best in a hoodie, sunglasses, and jeans. They are oh so casual chic.

Madison Beer went viral in her cover of Etta James when she was only 13, she showed gratitude to her fans in the comment section and was praised by Justin Bieber as well.

(Ex: Madison Beer, Jackie Aina, Dixie D’amelio)

Pisces MC:

These people just spawned into existence. They are otherworldly in terms of appearance. Pisces MCs are quite strange when it comes to how they express themselves and people who are often misunderstood find comfort in these public figures. As influencers, their style has spiritual or mystical elements. They look like a fantasy character come to life and their makeup style can be quite bizarre. These people lose followers when they try to fit in and dim their light. They make a positive impact on others when they talk about acceptance and self love. Pisces MCs’ sexuality could be a hot topic as well and they might be very progressive with their views. These people could be psychic and are very intuitive in terms of the future.

Julia Fox’s most popular video is about how her son was born the same day her best friend who died (she also talked about how she came to her in a dream to tell her she was having a boy!)

(Ex: Julia Fox, Addison Rae, James Charles)

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nevadancitizen · 8 days ago

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-> OH VIKTOR, MY VIKTOR (WHAT COULD'VE BEEN)

synopsis: viktor reality-skips and meets different versions of you, different versions of himself, and some sort of god, who tells him of an unyielding truth.

word count: 5k

ships: viktor/reader

tags: angst with a happy ending, fluff and angst, pre-established relationship, pre-season 1 act 3 (aka sky isn't dead (yet))

notes: this is me cashing in my birthday fic (as in i can write anything cause it's my birthday) so i rewrote my other viktor fic w a twist from his perspective

related reading: Rot in Purest Gold

It’s been six weeks since you… left.

Well, ‘left’ isn’t the right word, and Viktor knows that. But it lessens the blow upon his heart and his mind to just say that you left. Like you took a vacation instead of just disappearing into thin air. But that doesn’t erase the memory of the blue arc of… something – natural lightning, artificial electricity, something else – coming from the Hexcore and touching you, and you just not being there the moment after.

He had scrambled for you, his cane clattering to the ground as he grasped at the air where you just where. A chant of “No, no, no,” left his lips, and panic quickly wrung his chest until he felt like he couldn’t breathe – more than he usually couldn’t, anyway. His leg buckled beneath him and he held his hands to his chest as he fell to his knees, trying to hold onto whatever was left of you (which was… nothing).

It’s been six weeks of a cold bed, six weeks of not waking up next to you. 168 pills (two for pain, one to regulate high blood pressure, and one to dilate the bronchi in his lungs to breathe easier – all taken daily). 36 days of work, despite your insistence that he take both days of the weekend off.

It’s been 42 days of you… you left. You didn’t die. Your body would’ve been here if you died. There’s no body, so you’re not dead. (At least, that’s what Viktor hoped and prayed for.)

But, for all that hoping and all that praying, he never thought about what he’d do if he walked into the lab one morning, with you just… waiting. Sitting on the workbench, cross-legged, looking out the window.

He says your name – a rasping whisper, honestly – and you turn.

A soft smile spreads across your face. It’s polite, but forced all the same. “Hello. Do you happen to know where I am?”

“You’re here,” Viktor says, breathless and unbelieving. He staggers forward the best he can while his body is still in this state of pseudo-shock. His mind is racing – the speed of the hexgates couldn’t even hope to compare.

“Uh… yeah. I am.” You look around the lab and pull your knees to your chest. “Pretty nice place you got here. You rich or something?”

The tip of Viktor’s cane drags along the ground – he can’t even bother to lift it properly as he makes his way to you. You probably can’t even begin to know what this means to him. Seeing you, you for real (not in his dreams, or behind his eyelids, or in photographs).

Tears well up in his eyes and mist his vision. “My love… what happened to you?”

Viktor rests his hip on the edge of the workbench and reaches out to you, his hand trembling. You shift away, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Excuse me?” You say.

His body shakes as a sob racks through it, his teeth gritting together to suppress the ugly sounds threatening to escape him. Viktor is usually calm, controlled; the one with a royal flush hidden against his chest. But this poker hand isn’t one he recognizes – what game are you playing?

A look of panic washes over your face and you take Viktor’s hand, probably to try to soothe him. But in that instant where skin meets skin, something… happens.

Viktor opens his eyes with a start. He sits up in bed, and his joints groan in protest.

The bed is… plush. Many blankets and pillows with a straw mattress much too big for just himself. And the bedroom itself isn’t huge, but it’s much bigger than anything down in Zaun. (Probably something below average in Piltover.)

Viktor pushes the layered blankets off himself and hooks his legs over the side of the bed. He stands and grabs his cane.

There’s a knock at the window above the desk across the room. He looks over, only to see you, smiling, perching on the outside window sill. You look younger – maybe fourteen, or fifteen?

The thought strikes Viktor just as he passes a full-length mirror propped in the corner of the room. He looks younger, too: the same age as you, most likely. His face still has remnants of baby fat, and it looks like he’s in that awkward stage where he’s yet to grow into his cane.

You rap against the window again –

– and it’s not a window. It’s two doors. Big ones, at that; with armored guards with spears standing on either side.

“Enter,” Viktor calls out. It’s an odd sensation – he wasn’t the one who commanded his lips to move, but it was his voice coming from his mouth all the same. Like he’s being puppeteered.

The guards’ armor clanks as they pull open the door. You stagger through the entryway, gritting your teeth and clenching your jaw repeatedly. You look almost… manic. Crazed.

As you come closer, Viktor observes you – no matter how hard he tries to move, he can’t. It’s like this body is his, but… not. He’s just an observer. He can’t approach you, hold you, even if you look different. He knows it’s you.

Grey streaks through your hair, and deep scars litter your body, the nastiest above your heart on your bare chest. Your baggy pants are torn and bloodstained. Mud and dirt cover your worn feet. Your gaze is trained on the ground; you don’t dare to meet Viktor’s eyes.

You finally kneel before his throne. Wait – was he sitting on a throne all this time? Is he, like, a king or something?

You confirm his thought with a whispered, reverent “My Liege.”

“My warrior,” Viktor responds in kind.

You begin to reach for him, but stop yourself. Instead you rest your hand on your knee. “The exile to the badlands… I – I wanted – needed – a conflict to call me back home. Back to you.”

Viktor thinks to himself as his disconnected body stays silent. Why would he cast you out, especially if you’re in such high standing? The scars on your body indicate numerous battles, and you being alive before him indicates you’ve won all of them…

“If I may have the honor…” You trail off. You glance up at him once, but don’t meet his eyes. You bow your head. “I would�� it would bring me great joy to fight for you again. To be your chieftain once more.”

His body continues to stay silent. If King Viktor has any thoughts, he can’t hear them. Well… this might be an improvement from the last… reality? Since Viktor only had a few moments of seeing you before he jumped to another one. Wait – jumped? Skipped? He needs to get back home to discuss this with you further. (Never mind your apparent amnesia – he’ll deal with that when he gets to it.)

“When the vultures start to circle…” Viktor begins.

“I will keep my nerve still,” you complete for him, your head still bowed.

He hums appreciatively. A small sound telling you to continue.

“The badlands…” You shake your head. “We must bring order. There are no gods, no kings – only man. The people there are many, but they don’t know how to organize amongst themselves. They have nothing but pride to defend.”

“Pride is a powerful motivator,” Viktor says.

“They speak of a crown for the victorious,” you say. “It shall be rightfully yours, if you allow me to conduct battle in your name.”

He takes you in. Your body is strong, chiseled, half-bare. You look battle-forged, molded in a crucible fuelled by hellfire. He can’t tell if the badlands have done you good or bad, but you stayed loyal to his kingly counterpart. That ought to count for something.

Viktor holds out his hand, his palm upturned. You look up, your eyes trained on his hand before looking up and meeting his gaze.

A moment passes. Your face twists slightly, the corners of your lips turning down a little and your eyebrows coming together a bit. Your jaw starts to clench and unclench again.

He turns his hand over, the back of it presented to you. You breathe out a shaky sigh and lift your hand from your knee.

“May the true king rise,” you say softly. You take his hand –

– and then immediately flinch away, clutching your palm. You let out a low growl, your face contorting in pain.

Viktor feels his stomach twist and his heart drop. He stumbles backwards into the corner of his cage, flexing his hands and digging his fingernails into his palms.

“No! No, no,” you say. You clench your hand, trying to stop your palm from bleeding. “No, Viktor. It wasn’t your fault. You just don’t know your strength yet, that’s all.”

You put your uninjured hand on one of the bars. “Please, Viktor. You’re hurting yourself.”

Viktor looks down at his hands. Sure enough, his fingernails have broken skin and his palms are starting to bleed. And, when he really looks at his own hands, they seem… different. His hands were comparable to King Viktor’s, but not to these.

His hands are rough and big, almost paw-like. And the rest of his body is, too; it’s mutated and it’s wrong.

He looks at you. You look… mostly the same. Your eyes are the wrong color and you’re a little bit shorter, but still. So why was he so different? What the hell happened to him?

“What…” Viktor’s voice is not his own. He’s not controlling it, and it’s deeper, his accent is thicker, and his words just barely slur together. “What did you… do to me?”

“I’m saving you,” you say readily. “You – you told me to continue the treatments…”

His eyes flutter shut. That’s right. He did. His disease is progressing and he is dying. This must be a truth in every reality.

“Don’t feel guilty,” you say, your voice soft and reassuring. “It’s worth it. Everything is worth it.”

Viktor opens his eyes. You’re still there, still smiling through the pain and still by his side. You look at him with nothing but love.

He lumbers forward, his bum leg no longer as much of an issue. He raises one of his hands and gingerly presses his fingers against yours where they rest on the bars of his cage.

“There you are,” you say softly.

Viktor’s eyes sting with tears. He leans forward and presses his forehead against the bars, letting his eyes slide close. It seems like there’s two truths in every reality – his disease and your love for him. Even if he’s a monster, you love him. You love him.

Surely, at home – in his base reality – you still love him. Somewhere, deep inside, there are remnants of your feelings… and Viktor would do anything to help you remember them.

A tear rolls down his cheek. “Here I am.”

“Oh, Vik…” You bring your hand to the side of Viktor’s neck, holding his jaw. “Don’t cry. You’re perfect.”

He lets out a shaky breath. He feels your lips meet his forehead –

– and then pull away. There’s a crooked smile on your face, and there’s something around Viktor’s neck.

He looks down, noticing a necklace you must’ve slipped on him while distracting him with a kiss. It’s sparkling with diamonds and white gold, but speckled with blood. He takes it off and puts it on the desk in front of him.

“Money is easier to process,” Viktor sighs. He shifts in his seat and crosses his legs. “But I appreciate it.”

“I put a whole lotta effort into gettin’ you all these nice things,” you say, your tone holding a twinge of a whine. You sling your arm around his shoulders and lean in. “Do all them families without pig-cop-daddies mean nothin’ to you?”

Viktor breathes in, then exhales slowly. He puts a hand on yours where it rests on his shoulder. “It means the world to me.”

You laugh and squeeze his shoulders, pressing the tip of your nose against his temple and knocking his glasses askew. Even though Viktor still feels… trapped in this body, for lack of a better term, this is nicer than the body he was in before. You’re warm against his cool skin, and he can feel himself smiling.

He allows you to continue your clinging as he flicks on a bright lamp and picks up a small magnifying glass. The word comes to mind – loupe. He hums softly as he brings the necklace close to his face, inspecting it with a careful eye.

“The white gold is real,” he says. “Most of the gems are real diamonds. Some of the smaller pieces are substituted with quartz. The piece looks relatively old, so they are more likely to be blood diamonds rather than lab-grown.”

You rest your cheek on Viktor’s shoulder. Your hand moves away from his other shoulder, instead tracing shapes into his back. “How much d’you think it’ll go for?”

“Our usual fence is shifting something big in Miami,” he says. “If that deal goes well, and she’s in a good mood… maybe twenty thousand?”

Viktor can feel you smile against his clothed skin. “Mh… I hope.”

“And the duffels you and the others brought back…” He sets the loupe and the necklace down on the desk. “How much do you estimate?”

“Maybe… half a mil each,” you say. Your hand moves further down his back, tracing over the notches in his back brace. “Silco has been talking to Danske Bank – they’re willin’ to launder. He also has an investor in Bosnia lined up.”

His stomach drops at that name. Silco. But… he might be different. Viktor’s different, you’re different – it’s almost as if you’re part of some sort of robbery group, with Viktor as a mediator with the fences. The blood on the necklace and the duffel bags full of money are evidence enough.

“Maybe we can take a trip there,” Viktor says, leaning back into your touch.

“Vik…” You laugh. “I’m on, like, seventeen ‘do not fly’ lists.”

He lifts a hand and runs a few fingers down your jaw. “When has that ever stopped you?”

You hum and lean into his touch, silently acknowledging that, no, a simple piece of paper (and the authority behind it) has never even given you the slightest bit of pause. “Why, ain’t you the smartest gemologist there ever done was…”

“You are quite the flatterer,” Viktor hums.

“Only the best for the love of my life,” you say softly.

His heart roars in his chest and he’s smiling so wide he’s sure he looks stupid. A breathy laugh escapes him and he turns, holding your warm face in both his hands.

You scrunch up your nose and screw your eyes shut, your smile big as you put your hands over his. Your laugh is soft and giggly when he pinches your cheeks lightly.

Viktor leans in, but his mental projection onto this body is so strong that it actually hesitates for a moment. This is… a different version of you. But he’s also a different version of himself – one that’s in love with this version of you. Besides, he doesn’t have that much control of this body, anyway. He’s missed you so much he can’t bring himself to care.

It’s almost as if you can feel his close presence, or his breath on your face, or maybe you just want to kiss him. His thin, chapped lips meet yours –

– and your lips feel rough, with patches of moss smattering across your face.

Viktor pulls away, one hand still splayed across your cheek, the other holding himself up with his cane. You bring him away from your face, and he can take you in in full.

He’s standing in the palm of your hand. You’re huge; sitting, you must be a story and a half tall. Your skin is covered – no, actually, you’re made of wood, twisting branches and trunks and bark making up your entire body. A winding crown made of bramble sits atop your head. Golden flowers, almost glowing, bloom across your collarbone and up one side of your neck, the petals looking almost silk-like. Your face is a simple blank mask, but Viktor can tell how you feel. The intrinsic connection between you two is almost tangible.

You hold out a finger towards him, then slowly, carefully ruffle his hair. Viktor feels a little like a doll, but the care and caution you use when handling him causes delighted laughter to bubble up his throat.

He leans into your touch, and a moment later, he realizes it’s of his own volition. He’s not trapped – his thoughts match his body, and he can do whatever he pleases. The very idea brings a smile to his face.

You make a sound that’s vaguely affirmative, kind of like cooing. You run your fingertip across the shell of his ear and past his pulse point, tipping his jaw up.

He looks up at you, that content smile still on his face. “Yes?”

You (again, slowly, carefully) move him close to you. With your free hand bracing against the ground, you stand. Wind batters Viktor, but he blocks most of it out when he hides against the flat, broad expanse of your chest.

When you stop moving, he looks over his shoulder across the vastness now exposed to him. Roots of trees reach from the ground into the night sky. Some are weaved together neatly, some are jerked into tight knots, some seem to be isolated from all the rest. None are the same. Everywhere Viktor looks, it’s crowded, with roots from one collection traveling a ways before joining another knot or weave or lattice, then another.

“What… is this?” Viktor asks.

“Behold the beauty, the interconnectedness of all realities,” you say. Your voice is deep and rumbling – it reminds him of the far-away explosions he’d hear in the mines as a child. “Lo, Viktor, witness the cosmos. We nurture its essence, lest each fragile existence come unraveled.”

“We?” Viktor echoes, looking up at you.

You look down at him, then raise your free hand to lovingly caress the flowers blooming on you. The color of the petals almost seem to match Viktor’s eyes. “Yea. We.”

You look forward and take a slow step that thunders when your foot meets the ground. The roots of the trees groan and whine as they bend out of your way as you walk. “Not long ago, I beheld a reflection of my own being… they were of your kind – small and frail, bound by the same fleeting fate. Dost thou know of this encounter?”

“I… did not know of this, no,” he says.

You hum, and it sounds like the rolling tide of an avalanche. “Yes. It is as I thought.”

Viktor watches as you reach up to a particularly intricate weaving of roots. Your fingertips grow branches and intrude the plait, lacing themselves into it.

He reaches out and splays a hand over the pad of your thumb as you… work? He’s not sure what you’re doing, actually. He doesn’t try anything else – just slowly lets his fingernails drag and catch on the dips of your thumbprint. It’s almost peaceful like this. Not trapped in his body or forced to say words he doesn’t mean.

“Doth that reflection of my own being recall thee?” You ask softly. (Well, as softly as you can ask, anyway.) “Or art thou but a wisp of memory, lost in the abyss?”

“They… they do not remember me, no,” Viktor says, his voice hesitating despite himself. “I do not even know if they would wish to have their memories back.”

Your fingertips slowly retreat from the lattice. “Thou and I art entwined, Viktor. A truth, unyielding – two fated souls, forever bound in every existence. In all realms, thou art bound to me, as I am unto thee. This truth cannot be undone; not even by mine own hand.”

“In every existence…” he repeats, a whisper to himself. The thought – fact, as you had pointed out – makes his chest swell.

Viktor gets interrupted when he feels something make contact with his foot. When he looks down, a root, skinny and scaly, is winding around his ankle. It reaches underneath his pant leg, and when it touches his skin –

– it’s you caressing Viktor’s ankles as he rests his feet in your lap.

Nothing to be scared of. Nothing to be afraid of. Everything is fine. There are no cosmos, no alternate universes and nothing to worry about.

The living room is warm and comfortable and it smells like home. It smells like you and sweetmilk. Fast-moving, sequential images are being displayed on a weird, skinny box – it’s a television. Something is playing on the television.

A rather… odd-looking man is sitting behind a table stocked with various candies and foods. He throws a handful of colorful candies in his mouth and chews. After a few moments, his shoulders start shaking in either subdued laughter or poorly-concealed terror – it’s hard to tell.

“It tastes like hamburger meat,” the man cries. “It tastes like raw hamburger meat!”

You laugh, and Viktor finds himself laughing with you. He doesn’t know what he’s laughing about. What’s a hamburger? A food. It’s an American food. What’s America? Stop asking questions.

“I am nothing if not a scientist,” Viktor says out loud. “And scientists ask questions, do they not?”

He turns to you and you have the wrong face. Distorted, melted. He opens his mouth to scream –

– and finds the breath stolen from his lungs.

You have the root crushed beneath your finger. It crumbles and withers away under the slight pressure.

“Pardon the interruption,” you say. “The feeble realities… they yearn for the conscious, intelligent soul. Thy mind must be a feast most bountiful.”

Viktor gasps, recovering from the mental whiplash. Then, after a moment, he smiles slightly, a soft breath passing his lips. “I would like to believe that it is.”

“More shall seek. They sense thee, crawling forth for whispers of memories remaining.” You move a bit faster now, with more purpose. “We must return thee to thine reality. Mine own dear Viktor slumbers… soon, the time comes for it to wake.”

You continue moving at a quicker pace, but it’s clear you’re making sure not to knock Viktor out of your hand. The roots groan and give soft cracking noises that leave him worried as you continue on your path.

Viktor clocks what you said a second later. “Wait, your own Viktor?”

“Indeed,” you say. “For now, it slumbers. This is for the preservation of both your fates.”

“Your Viktor is in danger?” He asks.

“Nay. With every shard of my being, I shield it from danger unknown,” you say. “Such potent, restless souls dwell within you both. I shall not tempt risk and allow both thine eyes to open at the same time.”

Before Viktor can question you further, you slowly come to a stop in front of a ball of roots – a delicate lace made of strong wood. He feels an intrinsic, instinctual pull to it; like how an animal doesn’t know the word ‘hunger,’ but eats when it’s hungry. He doesn’t know the word or the feeling he has toward this thing – this reality – but he needs to interact with it. Needs to be back in that reality, his base reality.

“Hark,” you say. “Thine home.”

You reach out to it, invading it with your branches like you did to the one before. They snake their way through the intricate weaving.

You then look down at Viktor and bring him up to your collarbone, close to the golden flowers. Up close, the petals are whorls and swirls of golden yellows, and the stamen are crimson at the base with off-white tips.

“Dost thou not behold the beauty of my dear Viktor?” You ask.

He stops himself from touching one of the petals and looks up at you. “This… this is me?”

“Indeed,” you say. “A reflection. Brush over the blooms. It shall lead thee back to thine home.”

Viktor takes a step forward and brushes his hand over the flowers. A chime sounds, and pollen falls – well, it doesn’t really fall so much as it floats in the air.

A translucent, almost celestial figure appears from the flowers and pollen, curled up with its eyes closed. As it hovers, it morphs for a few seconds, then becomes a reflection of Viktor; naked, warm, peaceful. A small smile rests on its lips.

“Lo, witness my harbinger. My Viktor, the conduit of fate,” you say. “A catalyst for thine return. Touch, and behold its might — your might.”

Viktor looks up at you.

“Be not afraid,” you say. Your voice shifts, and it’s no longer deep and thunderous and godlike. It’s yours. It’s the voice you have in Viktor’s reality. It’s the voice you use when you’re marveling at his beauty, when you make him turn soft and mushy and romantic. “They wait for thee, Viktor. Who art thou to deny thine beloved?”

And something in him cracks and blooms, like a weed through the concrete slabs of Piltover sidewalks. Viktor reaches forward and touches his reflection’s shoulder.

His reflection breathes out a sigh, a pink mist leaving its mouth. It slowly uncurls, then opens its eyes and turns to Viktor.

Their eyes meet –

– and he’s home. He’s in the lab, still holding your hand in a crushing grip.

Your eyes go wide and your breathing starts to turn labored. Viktor is still crying. Tears well up in your eyes in response.

“Viktor,” you whisper, your voice warbling.

He whispers your name in return. Quiet. Disbelieving.

You let out a choked, ugly sound, and scramble for him, almost falling to the ground as you get off the workbench. You wrap him up in your arms and he holds you close, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re really here,” Viktor says, his voice thick and sticky.

“I’m here,” you sob.

He pulls away just a little, just enough to see you, to take the true you in again. Your face is twisted in heavy emotion, and yet, you still look so gorgeous. Fat tears roll down your face and you can’t stop crying, but you’re all that Viktor ever wants.

“I never thought I would see you again,” he says softly. “When you – it…”

He tilts his head forward, touching his forehead to yours as his eyes close. “I was so scared. I thought…”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” You laugh weakly.

“What? No, no, don’t say that.” Viktor moves his hands, one now holding your face and the other resting on the back of your neck. “I would never get rid of you. Never, never in a thousand years.”

You put your hand on his where it rests on your cheek and relax into his touch. A moment later, you gasp, turning away from Viktor. “The Hexcore!”

You look around, then spot it silently hovering above its place on the workbench. It doesn’t make any noise, doesn’t spit blue arcs of lightning, doesn’t do much of anything.

“Is it…” You trail off and sniffle. “Is it stable?”

“We have not so much as touched it since you left,” Viktor says. “We did not want to risk anything… not until I got you back, at least.”

“You got me back?” You turn back to him with a smug smile playing on your lips despite the drying tears on your face. “Possessive.”

He laughs and returns to his rightful place, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Yes, maybe. But you cannot blame me, no? You have been gone, and I… I have been afraid.”

“I’m here now,” you say softly. Your arms wrap around him and ensure he stays close. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t know what to do.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Viktor says.

You hum and rest your head in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He remembers you fawning over the faint scent of sweetmilk that hid under the smell of electrical smoke, smiling and telling him that it made him ‘even cuter.’ (But you had complained about the smell of rancid smoke. You told him to go get a change of clothes soon after.)

“I’m exhausted,” you say softly. Your voice is so quiet only he can hear, like it’s a whisper, like it’s a secret.

Viktor pulls away just slightly, then guides you to the plush sofa hidden behind the blackboard. He wheels it out of the way and waits for you.

You lay down and stretch out, wiggling until you’re comfortable. You reach behind your head and prop your head up with your forearm, then pat your chest in a silent invitation.

Viktor props his cane up against the side of the sofa and carefully lays down on you, slotting himself against your body. You’re just as warm as he remembered. Your free hand strokes his messy, untamed hair, and it’s like you were never apart from him.

He silently promises himself that this will never happen again – this separation will never happen again. The Hexcore will be dealt with, whether that means taming or destroying it.

Viktor will never leave you again. Just like the god-you said, with every shard of his being, he will protect you. He may be a dying cripple, but a dying cripple doesn’t have a lot to lose.

“Thou and I art entwined, Viktor. A truth, unyielding – two fated souls, forever bound in every existence. In all realms, thou art bound to me, as I am unto thee. This truth cannot be undone; not even by mine own hand.”

The voice of god-you, deep and thundering, whispers in the back of his head. The thought gives Viktor comfort.

He slides his hand underneath you, holding you just as you’re holding him. He’s not letting you go, not for a while. As long as you’ll have him, he’ll be yours.

Come hell or high water, he’ll always be yours. He doesn’t have that much energy to fight that fate anyway. (Nor does he really want to.)

#riptide writes 🌊#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x gn!reader #arcane #arcane x reader #viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #arcane viktor x you #viktor x y/n #viktor arcane x y/n #arcane viktor x y/n #viktor league of legends #viktor league of legends x reader #viktor lol

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i-cant-sing · 1 year ago

Note

I can’t get this scenario out of my head with yan!batfamily in which Bruce worms his way into a depressed reader’s life by marrying their mother and slowly taking over the role of parenting reader while dealing with the depression.

No because Bruce would do that. In his head, its just another mission to "save Y/n" and sure, your mother isn't exactly his type, and your depression isn't exactly her fault- the poor woman just works day and night for you both to survive in this outrageous economy, she doesn't have had enough time to see you not doing so well mentally.

Bruce and his sons, by whatever sequence of events, are now infatuated with you. What started as concern for your well being has now turned into obsessive need to control your life to make it better. So, yeah... Bruce decides to marry your mom, who is more than happy to finally find a chivalrous, handsome man... who just happens to also be very rich.

Meanwhile, you hate him. It's stupid, but you hate how filthy rich he is and even though you know that he donates a lot to charities, you still hate him because Bruce thinks money can solve everything (and in your case, it almost can), but you can't help but feel insulted everytime he offers you a cheque, a wad of cash to pay off your bills and loans, or even a $20 bill to get yourself some snacks. It feels... abnormal. You're not a charity case.

Perhaps your socioeconomic status isn't the only reason you're depressed. Maybe it's just you missing your father (could be dead/murdered/suicide/just moved far far away).

The moment Bruce finds out that your dad is the reason why you're so depressed, oh it's "I WILL FATHER ANOTHER CHILD IN NEED OF PROFESSIONAL HELP" time. He's doubling down on his paternal instincts and he's just mentally smacking himself like "ofc you need a father figure in your life. Who better than me????"

And it just makes your skin crawl at how nonchalant Bruce is about all this- about incorporating himself into your and your mother's life. Treating you both, especially you like you're actually related. Like he's been around with you two his entire life. You lose your appetite when he stays for dinner, but you sit at the table for your mother. You try to make excuses when your mother tells you that you have to go with her at the Wayne Manor because "Bruce wants to spend a day with family". You can't help but look at your mother in wonder at how she is comfortable when you both pull up at the manor. You thought things would be easier if Bruce's sons were also uncomfortable or even hated you and your mother (or thought that your mom was a gold digger), but no, they're just as worse as Bruce. Dick being particularly the worst in the sense that he's more affectionate and his love language is physical touch, so you get squished to his chest everytime he sees you, with a small cry "my baby!" Sometimes, "sis" would be added.

You didn't like either nickname.

Then there's Jason, who is the most normal one of them all, perhaps because he isn't around much and when he is, he just makes small talk.

Tim doesn't talk much either, but he stares a lot. Somehow you feel like he knows something about you, at least more than he's letting on.

And lastly, there's Damian, that pompous little shit. You know he's being amicable for Bruce, but his eyes look at you like he's judging you- thinks you're beneath him. Which is true, in the sense of finance. Despite all of that, Damian still wants to show you off his interests/things around the manor. He's still being arrogant ofc, "Look at this oil painting- it's a Van Gogh original. Van Gogh is a famous painter- he's dead though. I'm sure you aren't familiar with his works. I can take you to the Gotham gallery to show you more paintings. Father owns it, so it can be just us two without other people bothering us." He's nice but also not nice. But at least he's not doing it intentionally.

Then there's Bruce. Who is always looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes are always analysing you, even when he's not looking at you directly, you know that he's watching your every move like a hawk. He tries spending time with you, often he succeeds, only because your mother makes you go. He's a good man, hasn't done anything exactly inappropriate, but... even something as small as making you walk on the inner side of the sidewalk so that you're safe from the cars... it doesn't sit right with you. Why is he being so paternal? You certainly have been rude to him on purpose. Always giving him one word answers when he asks you how your day was.

Then one day your mother returns home with a beaming smile.

"Bruce proposed to me! We're getting married!"

After only 3 months of dating? It's what you wanted to say, but you held it back when you saw how happy she was.

The next day, Bruce held a dinner at the manor to celebrate the engagement. Surprisingly, that was the first time you saw Damian looking mad at you and your mom.

It was a reasonable reaction. Acceptable to you, instead of the overly excited yell of Dick "WE'RE GOING TO BE SIBLINGS! That means we can have slumber parties and pillow fights and-"

Your mother and Bruce were shopping for the wedding, looking at dresses and venues and all the shenanigans while you were at the manor, moving your and your mom's stuff in with the boys. It was the last thing you wanted, but your mother.... she insisted on it. Or at least that's what she says, you know Bruce insisted.

Doesn't matter because by next year, you'd be moving away to college anyways.

You just need to put up with this for a little longer and see your mother finally be happy.

You didn't expect your mother to be dead a week before the wedding.

It was out of the blue. You were sitting in the library at the manor because Dick refused to let you be alone in your room all the time, so he was making you some cookies while you read. Then he and Bruce came together, their faces pale as they looked at you.

"Y/n... your mother, she... she got in an accident."

She was driving to some restaurant, wanted to get you your favourite fried chicken and spend some time with you alone. But on her way, a truck crashed right into her car.

She died on the spot.

Whatever little improvement you had on your mental health went straight down the drain. You locked yourself in your room and just cried quietly. They left you alone the first few days, but then Bruce and Dick tried to persuade you to come out, that they were concerned for you. You did come out the day the funeral was held. And it hurt you... it hurt you so deeply when you found out they were burying her at the Wayne cemetery.

She wasn't a fucking Wayne.

If you had any strength, if you had any energy at all, you would've taken your mother and buried her someplace else.

But you didn't.

When you returned inside the manor, you went straight to your mother's room, which was also Bruce's room but you didn't care if he saw you in there or not. You just started packing all of your mother's stuff, her clothes, her jewellery, her photos, everything she came here with, which wasn't much to begin with but still.

"Y/n?" You stiffened when Bruce called you, but you didn't pause on packing. "What are you doing? Looking for something?"

You sighed. Might as well get this over with.

You turnd around, not looking him in the eye.

"I'm moving out. And I'm taking mom's stuff with me. You can check, I'm not stealing anything that belongs to you."

Bruce looked at you in confusion. "Moving out? Where are you going?"

"College. I'll be going there soon anyways, so I'm moving to an apartment with some friends."

"Oh, but you don't need to move out. You can stay with us. Youre family-" you cut him off.

"Bruce, let's not." You finally look at him. "We're not family. I never was, I never wanted to be. Mom's gone now, and I have no reason or desire to be here. Thank you for letting me stay here for as long as you have, but I will be moving out by tomorrow, if not tonight." You said picking up your mother's bag of stuff and walking out of the room. Bruce followed you to your room.

"But I don't want you to move-"

You dropped the bags. "I don't care what you want!"

Bruce looked at you with his brows furrowed. He didn't get why you were acting like this. Your yelling had gotten the attention of the boys too, all looking in confusion at the bags.

"I don't want to be a part of this family. I never have, and I never will. I never liked you or anyone in this family. And if you're concerned about me speaking to the media about you guys, don't worry. If it helps you, you can make me sign an NDA!"

Damian narrowed his eyes at you. "Dont talk to father like-"

"Shut up!" You yelled harshly. You didn't care who you were hurting. Your mother was gone, you had no reason to be amicable to them anymore.

They left you alone that day, and by the next morning, you were ready to leave. At 6 am, you walked down to the main door, with your bags. You weren't expecting them all to be waiting for you, but here they were. You took a step towards the door, but Dick stopped you.

He cleared his throat. "Um, this is the NDA... if you'd just sign it here." He handed you the papers.

Unbelievable. They actually drew up a contract. You took the pen from his hand and signed at the dotted lines.

"Bye." You took another step, except Damian and Tim blocked your path.

"What now?"

"Where are you going?" Tim asked.

"Do we have to go over this again?" You grumbled. "College." You answered.

"You can't." Damian said smugly. What's he smirking for?

"You're gonna break my legs?" You scoffed.

"No, you just signed a document saying that you're a part of this family, and Bruce Wayne is your guardian and has authority over all decisions concerning you like going to college, or even... going out of the house." Damian replied.

You looked at Bruce, because there's no way Damian is being serious. But there were no signs of joking. You looked at Dick, at Jason-

They were all dead serious.

"You cant- you can't be- you can't keep me here." You said.

"You signed the documents. It's your fault for not reading them." Tim said.

"Bruce-"

"I really do believe that it'd be better for you to stay here." Bruce said, taking ahold of your shoulders. "At least until you're doing better mentally."

"I'm fine-"

"I don't think so. And I could even take you to a psychiatrist, they'd agree with me." Bruce cupped your cheek as you flinched away. "You'd be happy here. I promise you that, you'll be safe and happy with us."

You'd try fighting, but you already knew you were outnumbered.

Besides, even if you weren't, even if you were alone with the smallest one of them, you still wouldn't be able to leave. You have no idea what Damian is capable of.

After all, he's the one who had your mother killed.

#yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere batboys #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere tim drake #yandere jason todd

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artist-ellen · 10 months ago

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Young Laena Velaryon

Teal and gold are exactly what we are looking for in Laena's design. And pearls, lots and lots of pearls. Her design is also directly related to Rhaenys with the over the shoulder wrap-dress design, but with a shorter puff sleeve under the long over-sleeve. The over-sleeve design was one of my ways of sneaking some of the precursors to fashion elements that Daenerys eventually wears in my GoT redesigns. Can you imagine her entering the wedding venue for Rhaenyra's wedding to Laenor in this? Subtly matching with elements of her families fashion and perfectly encapsulating how rich and powerful the Velaryons are.

I am the artist! Do not post without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me over on: instagram, tiktok or check out my coloring book available now \ („• ֊ •„) /

https://linktr.ee/ellen.artistic

#leana velaryon #young laena #team black #fire and blood #house of the dragon #redesigning hotd #ellenart #ellen artistic #character design #digital illustration #costume design #historically inspired #byzantine targaryens #house targaryen #house velaryon

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yanoverload · 2 months ago

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Yandere Incubus

I hope the company he is named after doesn't sue me LOL

I wuv him very much ok

Supernatural beings have always been in touch with humanity, but the meetings were so sparse many didn't even believe it.

That is until recently. Supernatural entities started to get in contact with the people out of nowhere, and no one can comprehend why.

The only ones that anticipated this were those in the path of sorcery and witchcraft. Humans that forgot what makes them human for the path of energy harvesting and spells.

Witches have always had good relations with the unknown, which give them the title of evil, or demonic. When it was the contrary. Witches keep them at bay to protect those not of the path.

One example is succubus and incubus. When one is brought to life, their first meal is recommended to be with a witch, a human that can withstand their soul draining. The witch teaches them everything they need to know to go their merry way, and if push comes to shove, help the demon again so no human has to die. A commensalism of sorts.

You were one of those witches. However, you seem to be in a bit of a predicament.

The first incubus you ever helped seemed normal, and went their way after the deed was done, only to return to your house a few days later.

And again, and again, and again.

The books never taught you what to do about this situation. These types of demons were very independent apart from their feeding necessities, so why keep coming back just to keep staring at you? Weirdo.

You thought of exorcising him before, asking a more experient witch what to do but....

"Master, have this! It's from my latest vict- I mean human! I stole got this watch from them! Can you make me your familiar now?~"

Is that a gold watch full of diamonds around it?!!!

Well.... You suppose he can stay a bit longer.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Some more facts about him! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You decided to call him Ramune, because he always seemed to hunt the drink from your fridge. You can shake the bottle and he will show up from miles away just like you would a cat.

His blood is a dark purple, almost black.

He has a few tattoos in his body, including a womb tattoo. They light up in the dark.

Wears girl clothes all the time.

Obsessed with anything grape flavoured. Only human food he eats.

Asks you to do his braids when he comes by.

Has a pear like body. All hips and ass, almost no boob.

His ears can twitch, along with his wings and tail.

You saw his nails cut through metal once. You still have nightmares of what he could do if he decided to scratch your back in your....intimate moments.

Really wants to be your familiar, even though demons cannot be a witch's familiar.

An utter and complete brat.

The tag on his choker has your preferred title (Sir, Mistress, Daddy, Mommy, etc)

Gives you gifts from his victims. He's very popular with the rich it seems.

Height: 168 cm (5’6 feet)

Would make a porn account if you ask. Or even a dark web one to do....you know.

He fake tans and has bikini marks... Yup.

#oc intro #yandere oc #yandere art #sub yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere x you #yandere incubus #yandere boyfriend

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episims · 1 year ago

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Turn On/Off Replacements: No Zombies Edition + 3t2 Trait Support

This is basically an update of my TO replacements, but I want to keep the post clear, so I'm sharing it as a new version.

Here's what got changed:

⭐ No More Glasses Zombie TO Instead of zombies, you'll get a brand new TO: Enthusiast. It's triggered by sims who are invested in their hobbies.

⭐ 3t2 Trait Support If you use 3t2 traits, sims with fitting traits will trigger directly related turn on/offs. This is only a subtle flavor; if you want the whole chemistry system to be trait-based, this mod isn't for you. These replacements still work just as well even if you don't have 3t2 traits in your game.

⭐ Polished Icons All the TS4 icons are now slightly smaller and hopefully work better with UI replacements. I also changed or edited some that I felt needed improving.

There are still two versions of the mod: the other replaces the Grey Hair TO with the Mersim one, the other leaves it untouched. Both versions are included with the download.

Download (SFS) (alternate)

Files are compressed. Probably requires all EPs. Conflicts with other turn on/off replacements (including my old versions), tunaisafish’s Attraction Traits Fix, and might conflict with cologne-related mods.

Compatible with UI replacements as long as this mod loads after.

🚨🚨 The Mersim version requires Midge’s Mermaid Mod.

Translations included: Spanish, Italian, Swedish, Finnish.

Update (29.8.2024): Fixed the life skills TO sometimes not updating properly upon changing TO replacements.

Update (31.3.2024): The alien trait by @tammyhybrid21 now triggers the Alien TO too.

Update (11.1.2024): Enthusiast TO now replaces zombies instead of glasses.

Update (11.1.2024): Changed it so that business owners with level 6 or higher business and young adults with a GPA 3.7 or higher also count as hard workers.

Credits to @lazyduchess, @midgethetree, and simler90 for the groundwork and bits and pieces used in the mod. Translations by @bothersomecryptid, @themeasureofasim, @dystopianam, and @vegan-kaktus.

Full list of the TOs under the cut.

Replaced TOs:

Cologne -> Life Skills (has learned at least two of the life skills)

Stink -> Poor (household fortune* ~§20 000 or lower)

Underwear -> Rich (household fortune* ~§100 000 or higher)

Swimwear -> Great Dancer (dance skill 6 or higher)

Formalwear -> Pet Lover (has at least two pet friends or the Animal Lover trait)

Full Face Makeup -> Talented (has at least one silver or gold talent badge)

Hats -> Good Reputation (reputation level Reputable Resident or better)

Jewelry -> Bad Reputation (reputation level Lousy Loser or worse)

Custom Hair -> Alien (either skintone, eyes, or both, or the alien trait)

Zombie -> Enthusiast (level 5 or higher on at least one hobby)

Grey Hair -> Mersim (with Mersim version)

TOs with additional new trait support:

Hard Worker (career level 6 or higher, teen career level 3, owned business level 6 or higher, young adult with a GPA 3.7 or higher, or the Workaholic trait)

Logical (logic skill 5 or higher or the Genius trait)

Charismatic (charisma skill 5 or higher or the Charismatic trait)

Great Cook (cooking skill 5 or higher or the Natural cook trait)

Mechanical (mechanic skill 5 or higher or the Handy trait)

Creative (creativity skill 5 or higher or the Artistic trait)

Athletic (body skill 5 or higher or the Athletic trait)

Good at Cleaning (cleaning skill 5 or higher or the Neat trait)

TOs with minor fixes:

Unemployed (young adults and business owners aren't counted as unemployed)

Robot (servos don't trigger hair color TOs)

Unedited TOs:

Fatness (TS4 icon)

Fitness (TS4 icon)

Facial Hair

Glasses (TS4 icon)

Makeup (TS4 icon)

Blonde Hair

Red Hair

Brown Hair

Black Hair

Grey Hair (without Mersim version)

Vampire (TS4 icon)

Plantsim (TS4 icon)

Lycanthropy (TS4 icon)

Witch (TS4 icon)

For the sake of cohesion, all the supernatural TOs now have simpler, singular names (instead of vampirism, plantsimism, and witchiness).

*The household fortune is counted by its funds, the lot value (if the home lot is residential), and other owned lots. The precise value that triggers the TO might slightly vary.

#ts2 #ts2cc #sims 2 #s2cc #the sims 2 #the sims 2 download #dl mods #dl default

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anonymous-existences · 4 months ago

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I just had a thought prompt bullshit.

Prompt DCXDP

Band Danny Fenton(17), his ex is Dash Baxter

New Fan of Danny Damian(17), His Recent Ex is Jonathan Kent

Two heartbroken fuckers

One is a majestic gay singer with a heart of gold and a possibly suspicious identity and odd friends.

One is Handsome Gay Rich Boy Son who has a secret vigilante life who's absolutely Smitten with the "civilian" singer Danny

It's not immediately like sort of a dense At Feelings Idiots then going to Idiots In Love Type of relationship.

So it starts with a Heartbroken Damian trying to cope through the intense unfamiliar emotions and finds a Recently Debuted and Slowly Going Viral Band Named "Phantom's Core" or "Ecto-Heart"(this sounds like a song title ngl—) and he realizes, Damn the songs are relatable as shit, he just starts listening to them and their new songs all the time and then BOOM! They're famous now because Damian Wayne keeps Posting About them and now his room is half filled with Masterpieces Art and Stuff and the other half is The Band Posters and Fanart Of Danny Fenton the Lead Singer.

Then he soon realizes they're also in the same school as he stumbles upon him in their 2nd years and having the same classes, that's where the slow burn happens, Damian is nice and smiles towards Danny but not much to others.

The Batfam is absolutely going paranoid, I mean it's Damian Wayne. He's smiling?? LAUGHING?? and GETTING ALONG WITH A CIVILIAN?? It's a miracle if anything for Them because he's gonna be much nicer when Danny is around to visit and do projects or Homework or study nights with Damian.

Alfred already approves of the Kid, he's nice kind hearted clumsy sure and also it's the fact that he's covered in scars that were clearly not "accidents" as the kid tries to excuse it.

Maddie and Jack are supportive parents and Bruce Wayne cannot absolutely not adopt Danny because of that and Damian also opposes cuz he has a crush on the Boy.

MY LINE OF THOUGHT NOW!

How does Danny CONFESS to an already Inlove with Him Damian.

A song Album Called "Confessions to Your Shadow" with 6 + 1 song that has their first letters that spells like

+ this song that's titled "I think I'm Inlove."

YES! HAHAHAHA

Idk how to do the phantom aspects and the vigilante parts yet but that's my prompt.

Edit: I forgot to add the inspo.

It's ROMANTIC HOMICIDE LIVE VERSION <33

#danny fenton #danny phantom #danny phantom fandom #dc x dp #dcu #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dead serious #damian x danny #damian wayne #dcxdp prompt #dp x dc prompt

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caesium-55 · 11 months ago

Text

—seven days. [ ii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. here's part 2 folks. part 3 is on the works now. did i write this fic instead of studying for my important quiz tomorrow? yes, yes i did. pls pray for my score.

masterlist.

For Christmas in 2019, Max has gotten you an apartment near his in Monaco. It is a loft apartment good for one on the 8th floor, a building away from where Daniel and Max lived. Originally, he wants to get you the unit a floor below his. You decline quickly, insisting that you are very fine with rooming with Julia and Kendall, who are both members of the Red Bull PR team whom you have gotten close with since your first year working with Red Bull. Max may have beef with the PR team for making him do a lot of embarrassing shit for the views but you're besties with most of them and actually thank them for making Max suffer through PR stuff because you cannot afford therapy and watching Max suffer through PR-related activities is a good form of free therapy. Also, Monaco apartments are fucking expensive. Red Bull might be paying you well but not well enough to afford an apartment in a country as expensive as Monaco.

“I want you close,” he tells you. If you did not know any better, you'd have butterflies fluttering in your intestines right about that moment. Sometimes, Max utter the most heart-fluttering of nonsense without meaning to. It causes your heart to stutter more times than you would like to admit.

“Well, I don't want you close.”

Max will never ever win an argument with you. He knows that. You know that. The best he can do is come to a compromise, a compromise that is usually tailored to suit whatever you want.

So you got that small loft apartment a building away, good for one person only. It's easy to clean and it's cheap, Max already said that, which makes you happy because you can set a payment plan for that. An apartment as a Christmas gift is already too much, borderline giving you a heart attack already. Rich people spending their money give you, a person of the middle class folks, heart attacks. Why can't Max be normal and give you a normal gift? A bracelet? A bag? You’ll even accept it if he gave you a slice of cheesecake. Not even your parents can buy you an apartment.

It has only been three years since the keys are passed on to your ownership and people say three years is enough time for a person to make a place home. But your apartment doesn't even feel like home, only a place you’ll sleep in if you happen to be in Monaco for the evening.

Home is that humble, two-storey house painted in red and yellow in Lynnwood Avenue, Vista Del Pueblo, Austin, a total picture of a picket fence dream. Home is Abuelo's old farmhouse in El Paso where you spent your childhood riding horses and driving ATVs across the dusty dry earth. Home is the retro milkshake place owned by the sweet old couple that has been in the neighborhood longer than your entire existence. Home is the tree-lined streets where you walked the family senior dog, Niko. Home is the Austin Fire House, your Dad’s workplace that you visited a handful of times back when you were a child to deliver cookies that your Abuela baked so your Dad could share it with his co-workers. Home is your mom’s clinic in the middle of downtown, always smelling like eugenol, disinfectant, formaldehyde, and her perfume. Home is not glitz and gold and glamor and cash cash cash. Home is not seeing wealthy people left and right. Home is not Monaco.

And it is not like you stayed long in your place either. You're always off traveling around the world with the Red Bull team and accompanying Max wherever he needs your presence. You don't even spend your breaks in that apartment because you immediately fly home to your family once a break is graciously given to you before flying off again to watch Max collect trophy after trophy.

Six days from now, you're going to be flying off to Texas. That means you have six days—less than six days actually—to pack all your crayons and go. Of course you're going to pack up the day before you leave. Doing shit last minute makes your life exciting, and it's not like you had a lot of shit to pack anyway. All your belongings can be tucked into a total of three suitcases. Three years worth of belongings in three suitcases.

you: you doin good there?

Max has been holing himself up in his penthouse since your arrival from Abu Dhabi, probably dealing with his breakup with Kelly. A shame, really. You thought the two looked good together. (Do they really? the asshole part of your brain thinks.)

And P. Thank God for that child’s existence. You hate children but P is an exception. P brings the best out of Max. Max has gotten the chance to act as the father he never had. It's heartwarming, to be honest.

him: not really no

him: can you bring me coffee

you: on it champ

Fifteen minutes later, you’re knocking on the gigantic double doors of his penthouse, a tall styro cup of espresso from that cute café two streets down and a slice of blueberry cheesecake because you’re thoughtful enough to buy him his favorite cake. You experienced a breakup before. A cake and an icecream work wonders when it came to healing broken hearts.

“You're fast,” he immediately says after opening the door. You kind of expect that he’d look worse, snotty and messy and looking like he ran from hell and back. But no, he looks……fine? His sweater and shorts look absolutely neat and comfortable and dry of snot. His hair is a little fluffy from lying on his bed but not too messy. He doesn't even look like he was crying. No red-rimmed eyes. No red nose.

You fake gasp, putting a hand on your chest for additional dramatic effect, “The fastest racer in F1 callin’ me fast. Truly honored.”

A smile plays on his lips, sidestepping and beckoning you in.

You frequently come by Max’s home, for work purposes of course, but you still cannot help but be amazed by the enormity of it every time you enter. Max’s penthouse is twenty times bigger than the apartment you currently live in. One man and a big house—it must be very lonely now that P and Kelly are no longer around. Now, you’re even more worried about what will happen the moment you go back to Texas.

Oh… You still haven't told him yet.

“Coffee,” you hand him the warm styro cup to which he accepts gratefully. He utters his thanks, taking a whiff before sipping, letting out a pleasured moan.

You make your way to his gigantic kitchen, navigating your way through his cabinets in search of a plate and a fork. You slide the cheesecake on the plate towards Max, who followed you to the kitchen and sat on the empty stool in the kitchen counter.

“Thank you,” he says, picking up the fork and taking a bite. He glances at your feet, eyes trained on your YSL. The obnoxious sound of the heels clicking against the floor as you walk probably is the one that caught his attention.

“You know, you've been wearing the same shoes since 2019.”

Points for Max for noticing. These YSL Opyum heels are the first luxury items you bought for yourself after saving for three years to buy one pair. You saw a rich international student wear it once back in university and you liked how sophisticated it looked compared to all the pairs of converse or platform boots you owned. So you made it your life’s goal to own one. In 2019, after doing tons of part time jobs in university and working with Red Bull for a whole year, you managed to buy yourself one on your birthday and you’d been wearing them to work ever since.

Your regular work uniform consists of a Red Bull polo shirt, a pencil or a slit skirt, and that specific pair of heels. Around 2021, you bought another pair to replace the old one because the old one broke. And 2022 again.

“What's wrong with ‘em?” you ask, brows furrowing as you followed his train of sight. Your heels might be a year old already but they still look fine.

Max blinks, “No, there's nothing wrong. Just…Do you think you would want to wear some other design?”

“No,” is your reply. “I like ‘em just the way they are.”

“Okay.”

Your conversation drifts into something else as Max finishes his coffee and cake. You spend the rest of the day in Max’s penthouse, lying on his plush couch while a slasher movie from the 2000s played on his wide TV. He has given you access on his Netflix account so you abused it to your heart’s content because you don't even have. a Netflix subscription. You can absolutely afford one, you just choose not to. You have opted in using your phone mid-movie because the movie is beginning to get real scary but you do not want Max to think you're a coward so you acted like you're disinterested instead.

“Oh look, Charles is also back in Monaco. Do you want to hang out together?” you nudge Max with your foot, who swats it away from him, face contorting in disgust. You show him the post on Charles private IG—yes, you were mutuals in each other's private IG because whoever is friends with Max was friends with you by extension—on your phone.

“Stop makin’ that face, my feet are nice.”

Your toenails are a glorious red now. Ferrari red actually and they suit you better than the Red Bull red. Huh, maybe you should have considered applying for Ferrari instead of Renault in 2018.

“No, it isn't.”

You roll your eyes, pulling it away from him and sitting up, “Do you want me to schedule you a dinner with Charles? You might need the bro time, you know? Dad said bro times are also important, but not as important as family time, of course. My bro broke up with his sweetheart back when I was still in uni and his best buds were the reason he was back up in tippy top shape by the end of the week.”

Max stares at you blankly, “I think I understand the words individually but not the sentence entirely. I don't know if it's the accent or you Americans just have a strange way of structuring your sentences.”

“Point is, hang out with a friend because a friend can help you move on from a pussy.”

Max hurls a throw pillow at your direction, which you luckily avoided thanks to your non-racer level but still considerably good reaction time, but unfortunately, this action causes your center of gravity to shift and before you know it, you're falling from the couch. Unconsciously, you grab Max but then Max doesn't expect that you’ll grab him so now, you’re both falling off the couch and onto the floor.

You groan.

“Fuckin’ ass, man. That was uncalled for.”

He flips you off.

Nevertheless, Max ends up following your advice though and calls Charles to hang out the next day. Lestappen fans should be thanking you on Twitter the next day for bringing those two together on an off-day in Monaco. Maybe they'll hang out and eat together in a restaurant? Maybe they'll go on a yacht picnic?

Except Max sends you a message at high noon.

him: sos

you: is your kitchen burning

him: no

him: but this is still an emergency and you need to come quick

him: he’s with his girlfriend and i don’t want to thirdwheel

you: succ it up

him: you can’t do this to me

him: i just got my heart broken in abu dhabi

you: where are you

him: home

him: i also need help in cooking

Charles is the one who answers the door when you knock. He looks genuinely surprised when he sees you and you deduce that Max hasn't told him that you're coming over.

“Babe, who’s that?” you hear Alex’s voice behind Charles and you light up immediately, quickly moving past Charles to throw your hands around the sweet young woman.

“Alex!” Alexandra laughs and hugs you back. The sound of her laughter is as pretty as she and God definitely has favorites because why did he sculpt this twenty-one year old like the daughter of the Aphrodite while you look like you were born from one of Hephaestus’ sperm that lost the gene pool contest? The world is unfair. You always get the short end of the stick, may it be career-wise or appearance-wise, and you can't even bring your personality to the table because normally, without the whole act of professionalism and sophistication you put on, you act like an extroverted American frat boy on a good day and a sassy drag queen slash war freak on a bad day so yeah, you guess that's the short end of the stick, too.

“Seriously?” you look up and saw Max holding a frying pan, staring at you unimpressed. You roll your eyes and slowly pull away from the hug, gaze returning to Alexandra.

“How’ve you been, sweetie? Been a while since I last saw you.”

You didn't get a chance to talk to her in Abu Dhabi and in Las Vegas.

“Good,” she replies, smiling sweetly and ugh, you want to pinch her cheeks so bad. But Charles is pulling you away from Alexandra before you can do so.

“No, no, she is mine, yours is right over there,” Charles says, pointing at Max, who's still standing there in the corner. “Go on. Shoo.”

You roll your eyes before walking up to Max, “‘Sup?”

Max raises a brow at you, “So Charles’ girlfriend gets a hug and I get a sup?”

“Well, she's Alexandra Saint Mleux and you’re just….” you look him up and down. “Nevermind, what you trynna cook?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I thought you said you were cooking.”

“I said I needed help with cooking.”

Your eyes narrow into slits, “You’re going to let me do the cooking, aren't you?”

“You know that pasta you made in September that you said was your mother’s recipe?”

A sigh escapes your lips as you roll the sleeves of your button-up to your elbows and power-walked your way to the kitchen, the sound of your YSL heels clicking against the floor bouncing against the walls of Max’s kitchen.

Lunch goes great. Charles and Alexandra love your cooking. Max has even asked for seconds. Good to know that he's eating well. Somewhere down the line, champagne is served even though it’s mid-afternoon and the four of you're sitting in Max’s balcony, staring at Monaco scape below. Thankfully, it is a cloudy day in Monaco. The heat of the sun isn't too harsh on the skin. Despite that, you hand Max a sun screen.

“Sorry about Kelly, by the way,” Alexandra says. Your conversation has drifted towards Max’s failed relationship now.

“That is very nice of you to say,” replies Max, smiling slightly. “But I’m okay.”

You give him a look, clearly unconvinced. Admitting vulnerability gives him hives so he's definitely lying.

“You look too okay for a guy who ended a three-year relationship,” Charles muses and his words get you immediately thinking.

Oh? So they’ve been dating that long? You never noticed.

“Even [Name] looked worse when she broke up with that Williams mechanic two years ago and they dated for like what? Barely a year?”

“Unprovoked!” you exclaim. Alex and Max laugh.

But yeah, Charles is right. When you broke up with Leo in 2021, it was not the prettiest sight. He entered Williams mid-2020 as a mechanic and he immediately caught your attention. He's kind and handsome and a very sweet guy. You have similar interests—engineering—and a similar sense of humor and you just….work so well together, you know? You were sure he was your soulmate the moment he cracked up that Physics pickup line and you know it was the same with him. You swore to God that you’d run away from all the British charming assholes but Leo made you eat your own words and gave you a run for your money.

But alas, 2021 season came and Red Bull Racing became busier than ever because Max and Hamilton got crazily competitive and Max demanded your full attention, needing you as a support system to win.

And Leo. Well, he’s busy, too. Engineers are always busy. But he felt neglected because all your attention was on Max. He felt like he was competing with Max for your attention and it shouldn't even be a competition in the first because Leo was the boyfriend and Max was not. And you cannot even deny that you prioritized Max that year. You wanted Max to win. You needed Max to win, so he can finally ask Horner to move you to the engineering team.

Losing Leo is devastating but Max won the WDC title that year and while you spent nearly a month crying over Leo after the breakup, you're hoping that at least, in 2022, you’ll finally get that damned engineering position at the cost of losing your soulmate. That the tears you shed and the broken heart you carried inside your ribs will be worth it if it was in exchange for your dream. Then, it does not happen. The job isn't given to you and you spent the early months of the 2023 season wishing that you have chosen Leo instead of Max Verstappen.

“You’re still friends with him, right?” Charles turns to you.

“Of course,” you say honestly. You're still mutuals on IG and he still hearts your IG stories at times. You still talk, too, on the freer nights where there's a lot of time to waste. “We ended on good terms.”

“How about you, Max?”

“Can we not talk about this please?”

The four of you empty that bottle of champagne and once the sun has begun retiring for the night, Alex and Charles also left. You're soon to follow, fixing your tote bag and going through the mental checklist in your head so you will not forget anything and not waste energy returning here to pick it up.

“You can stay for dinner.”

Max’s offer surprises you.

“No.”

His face drops as quickly as your answer came.

“You're goin’ to let me cook again.”

“No, I’ll cook.”

You give him an unimpressed look. Clearly, you're not convinced.

“I swear, I’ll cook.”

“What if I get poisoned?”

“You won't get poisoned.”

When you continue staring at him, he sighs.

“Just stay please?”

Of course, you stayed. He asked after all.

You keep your eyes on him as he makes dinner with clumsy hands and a bit of unsureness behind his actions.

“You're goin’ to burn it, honey,” you point out.

“What honey? I didn't put any honey in it.”

You blink. He blinks back.

“You’re gonna give me aneurysm one day.”

Shaking your head, you walk into the bathroom at the end of the enormous hallway, lock the door behind you, lean your back against the door, and slowly slides down until your ass meets the cold bathroom floor. You slap a palm against your forehead and purse your lips to stop a scream from erupting.

God fucking dammit, Max is too adorable back there and this is not doing good things for your heart.

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #manager!reader #fluff #formula one #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv33 #mv33 x reader

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threepandas · 8 months ago

Text

Bad End: Hidden Heir

Next ->

The Duke's family had very distinct eyes. It was genetic. An aggressively dominant trait at that, though it tended to die off, after a few generations out of the family. Supposedly a "blessing of the Gods". Spring to be exact. Bounty and luck. And the family certainly WAS bountiful.

In all the best and worst ways.

Wealth, corruption, children and bastards. It was a family so aggressively ALIVE, it could only be Spring's blessing that made them so. Pouring mania and madness into their veins like sweet sunlight. Whispering glory and riches, into power addled ears. They burst with life. Even as they endlessly destroyed themselves.

They were fictional.

Fascinating set dressings, for the stage play of someone else's story. Unimportant beyond their role in world building. As the origin story and power base of a character lead.

The Story ITSELF didn't even occur here. But rather, in the capital. Where the players of significance had gathered.

And I? Oh I was some minor antagonist, so insignificant to the plot, I genuinely could not remember which of seven different women I actually WAS. It had been an ongoing series. Otome Isekai. Reverse harem.

And I was either in the ORIGINAL original novel, the isekai'd plot novel, the anime adaption, OR a horrifying fever dream. My memory was largely useless. But? I did remember the characters. The archetypes.

And the fact, that the author had clearly been going though a Yandere phase.

My region of the Reverse Harem collect-o-thon? Horrifying! Red flags everywhere! No one here should date, leave room for fantasy Jesus, have we considered the joys of being a NUN? Yes. Yes I HAVE thought about it.

I was pretty sure I'd never make it. End up dead or captured by some sort of Nun Yandere. Or God Yandere. Possibly both. Assuming the bandit yanderes don't get me first. It... it was very stressful, living here.

Luckily? I knew when I could leave.

Or so I thought.

Because my house? The Dukedom? Had the "yandere butler who is secretly an heir." Who starts out with loyal dog behavior. A little highly possesive master and servant play. Then rises to become a Duke. Presumably? That is when I die. Or am disowned.

Death is most likely. Since my role was "minor antagonist" and I was to be mean to the sweet, earnest, Harem possessing Protagonist. Don't see WHY I would. Live and let live. Good for her etc etc. But regardless? Best to avoid, just in case.

The problem? Who do you think Mr Illegitimate Heir serves before she gets here? The OTHER possible heirs? Of course not! They'd "oops! Hunting accident~☆" him in a heart beat. Father isn't stupid. And my sisters? Issues. Violent, violent, issues.

He ends up with ME.

Father, WHY.

Obviously, I ignore him. I see nothing. I hear nothing. There is no war in Ba Sing Se. Mmmmm, tea. Good book. Ignore his creepy staring. His creepy, creepy staring.

Thankfully? I never really ran out of Totally Legitimate reasons to send him away to learn or do something. Proper tea making. Door maintenance. Eastern embroidery. Something, anything, and off you go! Bye bye~☆!

Unfortunately. He got faster. Better and better at learning. Mastering skills. Coming BACK. Showing up to stand in the corner, silent and looming, like an omen of death. Those damn eyes. The fucking family eyes!

I don't have them. And NOT as, my Father would have me believe, because I "take after my Mother". But because I am not genetically related to the Duke. I have GOLD eyes. When I wear the right shade of green? I pass. So I am condemned to forever wear green. Don't even really like it much. But?

I am pretty damn sure? I was just... pretty.

A lovely, orphaned, golden eyed child that COULD pass as his. So why not? It was a whim that payed off. Unlike in the original stories, I imagine. Since I am by FAR the best behaved child in this entire house. Ha! Suck it, bio-kids, the adopted one's the favorite! Maybe should have been less lil bitchs.

....I carefully do not say.

Those are INSIDE thoughts.

Fuck. He's still LOOMING. Isn't he? Go awaaaaaay. Where is Protag-chan? Come be doe eyed and busty! Trip adorably! Go "kyaaa~" or something! I feel body heat and freeze. He's leaning over my shoulder to pick up the teapot, pour me another cup. I can FEEL the barest graze of his knuckles against my back, from where he's gripped my chair. The smell of his aftershave almost hauntingly pleasant.

Like he KNEW exactly what smells I liked most. Went out of his way to find one that best suited my preference. Coincidence. Please, PLEASE be a coincidence! I do not turn my head. Keep my eyes locked straight ahead. Barely breathing.

He steps back.

The new pot is sharp and herbal. Almost bitter. I force myself to drink. Can't see a sugar dish, and REFUSE to turn around and ask for one. Ignore. IGNORE. My pounding heart calms. My muscles slowly start to relax.

It... it IS weird, though, now that I think about it? That Protag-chan hasn't reached the Dukedom yet. She should have. God only knows I sent Creepy to the capital enough times, with enough highly specific instructions, that he should've had his meet cute's and dates by the dozen. Been half way in love. So... why...?

Huh.

Dizzy.

The taste of tea sits wrong on my tounge. I stop drinking as the world sways. Letting the cup fall from my hand. Splatter, roll, and shatter. I try desperately to stand. A gentle gloved hand catches my elbow, supporting me. I turn. Giddy eyes. Triumphant, wide, spring green eyes. Too green to be gold, too gold to be green.

An almost cruel, mocking, yet loving grin.

Another hand slides around my waist, braces me against his side. Gleeful little murmurs, too pleased to be reassuring. You. You did this! You DRUGGED ME!

I can barely move, body relaxing against my command, going limp, as he draws me close. Presses his face against the side of my head, against my temple. A deep, shuddering breathe, that he savors like wine. I try to pull free but can not. Feel his lips pull into a vicious grin against my skin. Hands begin to run in gentle, claiming, exploration.

And at last the drugs kick in... the wo..rld..

G..oes..

Dar..k........

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere otome isekai #yandere x you #yandere duke #adopted reader #they are not half siblings #yandere oc #yandere otome #just wanted to clarify cause it be like that sometimes in otome #bad end au #bad end hidden heir au #hidden heir au

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aventurineswife · 3 months ago

Note

Slow dancing w/ Aven plz? 🥺🙏🏻

“Can we always be this close forever and ever?”

Summary: In the intimate setting of two lovers shared apartment, you and Aventurine share a slow dance, enveloped in soft music and warm light. Aventurine reveals a vulnerable side, expressing how dancing with you is a risk worth taking, leading to a heartfelt exchange about love and connection.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff, Slow Dancing, Romantic Moments, Intimate Setting, Vulnerability, Heartfelt.

Warnings: Kissing, Emotional themes related to vulnerability and connection

A/N: I LOVE YOU FOR THIS REQUEST ALONE!! 🤭💖 I was thinking to make the settings in the rain since it would've been more romantic but decided to just go for the living room of a shared apartment instead so you guys do not get sick <3 Keep those requests coming, I honestly love writing about them 🤭

The evening air hung heavy with warmth, a cozy embrace that filled the apartment. Soft light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting gentle patterns on the floor. A delicate melody floated in the background, its slow rhythm inviting and soothing. It was one of those rare moments where time felt suspended, where the outside world faded away, leaving only the two of you and the music.

Aventurine stood by the window, his sandy-blond hair catching the light in soft waves. He wore his usual attire—a dark green, gold-accented dress shirt that framed his frame perfectly, unbuttoned just enough to hint at a hint of mischief. The black choker on his neck added an air of sophistication, while the rolled-up cuffs of his blazer revealed his wrist adorned with rings and bracelets that glimmered in the ambient light.

You watched him, captivated by the way he carried himself, exuding charm and confidence. He was a master of risk, a player in the game of life, and yet, here he was, simply being himself. His eyes turned towards you, curiosity dancing within them.

“Care to dance?” he asked, a playful smile spreading across his lips.

Your heart fluttered at the invitation. You nodded, your pulse quickening with anticipation. As you stepped closer, Aventurine extended his hand, the warmth of his skin igniting a spark within you. You placed your hand in his, feeling the rush of electricity between you as he pulled you gently into his embrace.

As you moved to the center of the room, he guided you into a slow sway, your bodies fitting together seamlessly. The world around you melted away as you became lost in the moment. He held you close, his arm securely around your waist, while his other hand intertwined with yours.

His breath was warm against your ear as he whispered, “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

A shy smile crept onto your face as you leaned into him, feeling the rhythm of the music carry you both. Each step felt deliberate, yet fluid, as if you were navigating a dance that only the two of you knew.

“Do you remember the first time we danced like this?” he asked, a hint of nostalgia lacing his tone.

You chuckled softly, recalling the clumsy steps and laughter that had filled that moment. “How could I forget? You nearly tripped over your own feet.”

He laughed, a rich sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “It was worth it just to see you smile.”

His gaze held yours, an intensity that made the room feel even warmer. The music enveloped you both, a gentle backdrop to the unspoken connection that lingered in the air.

“Sometimes, I feel like life is just a series of high-stakes bets,” he mused, his voice low and thoughtful. “But in moments like this, I realize that some risks are worth taking.”

You tilted your head slightly, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

Aventurine's smile softened, his eyes shining with sincerity. “Dancing with you is a risk I’ll always take. It’s the only gamble I never regret.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. The vulnerability behind his bravado revealed a side of him that few had the privilege to see. You felt a rush of emotion swell within you, and in that moment, it was as if the universe had conspired to bring you together in this small, intimate space.

As the music played on, you lost yourself in the cadence of his movements, the warmth of his body against yours, and the promise of the night stretching ahead. Aventurine spun you gently, twirling you under his arm before pulling you back into his embrace, the world outside fading into a distant memory.

“Let’s make a deal,” he said, his voice teasing yet serious. “For every dance, we share, I’ll bet a piece of my heart. And if I lose, well… I’ll just have to keep dancing until I win it back.”

You laughed softly, a rush of affection bubbling up within you. “Sounds like a risky wager.”

“Only if you’re willing to play.” His gaze locked onto yours, a challenge that made your heart race.

“I’m all in.” you replied, your voice steady.

Aventurine grinned, his eyes twinkling with excitement. As the music swelled around you, you felt a warmth spread through your chest. You were no longer just two players in a high-stakes game; you were partners, dancing to the rhythm of your own hearts.

In that moment, as the last notes of the song lingered in the air, you realized that some bets were meant to be made. And as Aventurine leaned in, capturing your lips with his, you knew you’d gladly take the risk, no matter the stakes.

#x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #hsr aventurine #hsr aventurine x reader #fluff #intimate moments #romantic moments #Intimate settings #slow dance #vulnerability #heartfelt words #heartfelt connections #kissing #Emotional themes related to vulnerability and connection

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k-tarotz · 1 year ago

Text

PICK A CARD; Your & Your F/O’s Dynamic

PILE ONE PILE TWO PILE THREE

hii and welcome to this pick a card! 🫶🏻 it will be a reading related to your fictional other! if that’s not your thing remember to not judge, everyone has different interests. that being said, if you are unsure how to pick a pile take a deep breath and choose the one your eyes first landed on, or the one you feel most drawn to. have fun and thank you for participating.

F/o reading | Kpop reading | personal reading | masterlist

PILE ONE

the sun, nine of pentacles, six of pentacles

so right of the bat this is someone who genuinely adores you a lot. they love the way you laugh, dress and carry yourself. they have a deep sense of love and adoration for you! not a single thing they don’t like about you.

they see you as the sun. the brightest, best thing in their life that they cannot live without. it doesn’t matter it you are a gloomy person, or not as positive as you could be. they will see only the good in you, never focus on your faults. they have a really high sense of love and adoration for you and nothing can change that. in their eyes you can do no harm, and that stays like that, most probably forever.

they would also most probably love to spoil you rotten, whatever you want is yours because they will get it for you in a heartbeat. they won’t accept a no. for some of you, your f/o could be really rich so they have no problem spending money on you. for another half of the group this is someone who doesn’t have a lot but is an insanely hardworking person and will do anything to provide you comfort.

they love you too much to just sit and watch you daydream about the things you could have. they are very action oriented and it will show in your relationship. there is also a possibility they aren’t good with words but they for sure will love you so much EVERYONE will know it. even strangers.

they love you dearly and would never ask for anyone else in their life, to them you are like a sweet summer song on a warm night under the stars. something that is impossible to forget.

this dynamic mainly sun x moon, but there is also a really strong power dynamic here. neither one of you less than the other but both having different roles. i don’t think theres a specific name for this one but the vibe is ‘would give up the world for them x not used to affection but secretly loving it’

some of you might be very shy receiving so much love and affection because you aren’t used to it or have never been loved this way before but this would only motivate your person further to love you deeply and show it to you everyday, let that be with big or small actions.

channeled messages: “ I love you, my dearest “, “ I wouldn’t mind dying in your arms”, “Do you love me like I love you?”, “Catch me before I fall”, “Wether you are 20 or a 200 years old I love you regardless”, “Summer Time Sadness”

other things that might be relevant:

ice, distance, natto?, orange, laces, black, aesthetics, gold, music/singing, fashion, pool (pool parties for some), king

PILE TWO

judgment, hermit, the world

this one is soooo cute! with all due respect, each pile is insanely cute, but this one is especially sweet. your f/o could be a person that has a hard time opening up to people and could be labeled as a cold person even if they are not. so, ultimately a misunderstood person.

regardless of that they do have a hard time with affection, as i have already said~ they could push people away on purpose and hurting them before getting hurt themselves. now with you this would change. no matter what happens and what they do you just keep loving them without needing a specific reason. you just love them for themselves without any bad intentions and it’s so new to them and they love it so much they just want to be around you all the time and they get so overwhelmed with this feeling they aren’t quite sure how to react to it but before they realise it they fell in love already.

you fell first, they fell harder. way harder. they love you so much they feel like their heart can jump out of their chest at any minute.

since we have the hermit & the world card together it is also very possible that you are their first and last love. (even if they are written to have romantic interest in the show.. it does not matter.)

however don’t be mistaken though, they do have a very ‘fuck it, i am going to love you on purpose’ energy. they want you to know that they love you, are in love with you and that it’s not because of some accident or uncontrollable force but they adore you for the person you are. for the things you do, for the way you talk and because you are you. they love everything about you, even your habits. they find it very endearing.

once they are comfortable accepting the fact that they are in love with you they will be very affectionate with you. let that be cuddling, holding you on their lap (or vise versa, whatever you prefer), kissing you, defending you even when they know you are wrong but correcting you in private, helping you cook, doing the things you have no energy for or whatever makes you feel loved they will do it. you won’t have to tell them. they are attentive and always pay attention to you. they adore you more than you could ever imagine.

channeled messages: “Please don’t cry for me”, “I love you the most”, “Don’t take your eyes of me”, “Theres a million worlds where I love you and I would destroy each one where I don’t if I had the power”

other things that might be relevant:

white cat, car, hell (??), tent, snake, help, healing crystals (?), bites, tags (?), spices, red, power

PILE THREE

queen of swords, nine of swords, four of pentacles

alright so for your person you are someone very healing, maybe not intentionally but you heal them in ways no one could ever do before and they adore you so much for it. you give them more perspective in life and teach them things they wouldn’t have been able to think about before. this could be views on life or specific things. definitely related to how different you two are as people, but in a good way.

do you know that saying? “i can change them” well you actually can, and it’s really cute.

they could be someone that is known as a powerful but morally not correct character, or perhaps just have a personal growth arc. well, with you they would have this not only faster but better. i am not saving that you would be their saviour and they cannot live without you, but that’s kind of the energy here.

maybe at first you wouldn’t be willing to get together or like them? either way, they would want your approval a lot, straight from the get go. they look up to you like to no other and want to be someone you approve of. they have this deep desire for your love. so they would naturally change themselves for the better.

i know some people look at change as a negative thing so i would like to say: they wouldn’t force their personality or anything of the sort to change, but rather their morals/principles and the way they view life. ultimately they would have more understanding and love in their heart because of you. they would want to see the world from your eyes, understanding what you think and why you do the things you do.

they view you as someone deserving of their love, their trust and such. you would be one of, if not the only, people they show their vulnerable side to. you are a diamond in a rough in their eyes.

you are also someone they wish to protect with all their might and will, they could be very possessive over you. (though not in a toxic way.)

channeled messages: “come with me”, “kiss me just one time”, “they might leave but i will never leave you”, “ i understand, you don’t have to say a word”

things that might be relevant:

royal, river, tenten (?), kelp, yoyo, yagami (death note), bandages, fire torches, silver, rings, sunlight

thank you for participating

- Candy

#tarot #pac #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card #pick a photo #tarotblr #spirituality #astroblr #f/o

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insuke69 · 1 year ago

Text

What's in a name?

✰⁂ Hobie brown × Rich!Osborn!reader

Part I, Part II

1/3

Synopsis: Osborn is almost a disgusting name because of the messed up things it has and the dirty money that holds it up by threads. And here is the child that sneaks out one night and meets a punk that goes directly against her father.

✩Warnings: cussing, Some angst, 'crybaby' reader, misunderstandings.

(mostly based on how earth-138 is)

Rated 13+(??).

✰5.7k words.

⚥Afab reader

_________________

Osborn.

“Norman Osborn”

A name everyone has learned for the worst part, the name ‘Osborn’ has run though the streets of Camden through the blood and dirt that drips through its pristine and marble image, spoken like the candyman–as if it were uttered three times, they’d be cursed and face the consequences. The man who hated the poor and less fortunate that were scattered through England. The man who kept his paws clean by hiring those who needed the money, then turning them into the crooked police for the crimes he made them do. The cruel family man who’s destroyed homeless shelters and remade them into his own buildings for business, legal or not.

“(Y/N) Osborn.”

Here she was. The daughter of this monster, the girl who receives bloody money that her father steals from the innocent, The daughter who people are afraid to even talk to out of fear of her dad, the girl who can’t refuse what she’s given because she understands how much worse it can be. That doesn’t stop her from still trying as much as she can. Sneaking out of her mansion most nights to try and get a taste of college parties. Whenever she goes out during the day with her dad’s black card, She spends it on clothes and gives it away to those she knows really needs it, always wearing a face-covering balaclava so her father doesn’t somehow find this out. Instead of the piano lessons she attended where her fingers gracefully flowed between those white elegant tiles to create beautiful classical music–she tried to learn the electric guitar, mostly teaching herself to the rhythmic sounds and rough rumble of the guitar that Hobie Brown wields.

“Hobie Brown“

A name recognized as well throughout Camdon but for the exact opposite reasons, a name that drips with earned respect, a firm rough hardwood image that's covered in stuck-out nails and splinters. A Punk that directly strives against fascists like Osborn, and who’s blood boils when he learns Osborn’s cruel plans to begin using the old Canals again–mostly to flush out the homeless that reside there, The homeless who Spiderpunk always seems to be visiting and helping out.

“Spiderpunk”

Oh. Spiderpunk. A name Y/N can recognise due to her father’s phone calls that she overhears late at night, a name she always hears that is spit out with venom through her fathers and his colleagues lips, the name she sees in bold graffiti almost daily on her dads main company building. Jet black graffiti and red with blue undertones that drip almost beautifully down the glass panes it was sprayed upon. She always bites back a grin smile whenever she hears her dad ranting about the punk he ever so clearly despises.

_____________

Rough Meeting.

It was one of those days, those days where you despised everything in your life–that was unlucky, bad luck of yours to have been born in this universe. Bad luck that you were the daughter of a sadistic monster, how you were seen as a monster for even being related to him.

Guilt.

Rage.

Frustration.

These emotions burned through your veins, making your hands tense and chest heavy. These emotions pool in your eyes the moment you walk through your large white bedroom door and crash into your Jado Steel Style Rose-Gold Bed. Your tense body relaxing but messy black mascara tears flowing down your face. Nobody understood, it's like you were speaking their language on deaf ears that didn’t care to hear you out. They didn’t care to hear out the brat, The Spoiled girl who has her life handed to her, the brat that no matter how hard she tries-

Can’t prove anything to everyone who is dead set on her being a spoiled daddy’s girl.

With boiling tears drying upon your soft smooth skin, You get up and change out of the clothes your main ‘Maid’, Roxanne, had put out for you earlier for your Dads event of a damn Factory opening that was built over another destroyed shelter. Removing the ruffle black dress with small cute green ribbons to show off your dads company colors along for him to display his gorgeous daughter. It’s not like he cared for anyone's image besides his own anyways.

Glancing at the clock, you sigh and dip your head into the pillow again,

6:36pm

You take a calming breath and change into some jeans and a loose black tee after crying some more for a few moments, the shirt only allowed for you to wear at home since it wasn’t perfect and elegant enough for the Osborn image. Ugh. You enter your private marble bathroom to wash your face free of those streaks of ‘weakness’ as your dad would call it.

“Hey! Uhm, Roxy?” You call out softly, your door soon opening with Roxanne standing by it and looking over at you expectantly.

“Yes, Miss?” Roxy said back in her usual calm and blank expression, her expression shifting ever so slightly at the sight of you wearing your usual clothing you do whenever you plan on sneaking out without Osborn knowing.

“Don’t let father see me going out, if he asks about me, tell him that I’m upset and tired from the event and to not disturb me.” you tell her as you reach under your bed to grab a shoebox where your balaclava, hoodie, and gloves are stored and hidden away. You wish you didn’t have to wear all this just to be an actually not-bad person, but you can’t risk angering your dad. He always told you to never dwell on what has to be done.

“It’s a dog eat dog world, You can’t cry about others who don’t have the guts to do what has to be done.”

Those words are always playing in the back of your head, your own dad telling it to you soothingly to help stop your tears–when you were about eight. You were crying because you were thinking about the lives he’s ruined and took for you two. Well.. More like for Oscorp.

You snap out of that memory as you clear your throat and put everything on to hide the safety of your identity while Roxy watches with that neutral face you’ve seen and known your whole life. She’s the closest thing you’ve ever had to a mother, by textbook definition because she brought you up with care and some affection. But your actual birth mom had died while giving birth to you, you never met her once besides the moment she passed with you in her arms. Since then, Your dad has seen you as if you were the last living part of her that he has besides memories and pictures of her. He's always telling you that you’re her spitting image but you just.. Can’t see it. Probably because she is always glowing and happy in her pictures with anyone, she had a normal college student experience with friends and parties, she didn’t have an overprotective dad.

You roll the glove over your wrist, pausing ever so slightly at a white gold bracelet your dad gave you when you turned thirteen, with your grandmas and mother’s name engraved into it, and yours engraved below theirs. An important and old heirloom to your dad since he wants you to always remain in touch with your moms side of the family–not like your dad spent much time with his family anyways.

“When are you going to get over this phase?” You suddenly hear Roxy ask from behind you which makes you jump ever so slightly before subtly moving it a bit lower on your wrist so the bracelet chain does not get caught in the fabric of the gloves.

“You really want me to answer that?” You ask rhetorically before fixing the balaclava over your features while walking to your window and sitting on the sil, Kicking your legs out and looking out on the city and lowering sun before actually answering Roxy, realizing she sounded even a little.. Disappointed.. in you.

“The Osborn name has done- Irreversible damage, And I’m just trying to help out the people who need it, and pay for my dads actions with actual kindness.” Your tone is soft and a bit honest, you adjust your hands to push yourself out of the window before Roxy can even reply.

Your thick black boots break your landing as you fall in the green fluffy grass garden that surrounds your mansion, rose bushes and flowers adding some color to it since your dad agreed it would look good for our image, as if it wasn’t soiled already.

You make your way out of your house and just walk, stopping by an old tree that stood beside the path from your house to the city. Your foot stands on a nook where the tree had a brach that went out and folded in itself and your hand stretched up into one of its hard woodend pockets until you feel a familiar fabric, you pull on it until the backpack falls out with your hand holding it by the handle and hopping off of the tree.

This was your secret backpack that you didn’t even want on your own property so you kept it safe in a tree. This bag contained little necessities along with spray paint, some basic tools, cash, and pepper spray. You keep walking down the path and arriving at the city, where the air was polluted and slightly hard to breathe while the rest of the city had occasional litter, trash, and shady looking people who make it seem like it's better to walk across the street to the other sidewalk.

You usually went out at night to be able to put some of your art on display in the streets: You had a sketchbook full of small things that you usually spray-painted on canals, or outside the wall of abandoned buildings. You didn’t know what this secret ‘hobby’ was really called, you just walked the streets of the city until you found a good spot and started to make your art.

Nothing was out of the ordinary until you walked past an alleyway and in the corner of your eye, you saw someone in dirty clothes wearing messed up jeans and a worn out jacket, sitting on the ground outside a little blue tent with a small fire in a bin that lights up some of the alley.

You come to a small halt and debate whether walking over to the person or leaving them alone, your vision focusing in the dim lighting and revealing the other few tents there, some of the tents zipped up and indicating that whoever is in there is sleeping, and some people standing around with a lit cigarette in their calloused hand.

You swallow that gut feeling to leave them alone and walk over to a gas station, buying some instant pizza, sandwiches, and food for the people you told yourself not to bother and walk back over to them with the plastic bag in hand.

You approach the person you saw, but they look over at you and seem to tense and quickly stand as they face you.

“Hey! Hi, relax, I brought some things for you and your friends?” You said with a gentle soft tone as you stepped closer slowly since the vagabond seemed wary of you with their eyes locked on your face.

“Oh! Damn, I forgot, hang on.” You murmur as you reach up to pull your mask over your eyes to show your face so that the person would be less afraid of you, holding out the bag of food.

Their face changes into a grimace, as if disgusted at how you’re trying to help them out. Recognizing you as the creation they and their whole community despised due to the cruel name that comes after your first.

Osborn

They grimace at you and stare at you as if you were the one trying to drive them out of the city. The one that’s destroying non-profit shelters, as if it were your company that’s dumping all kinds of waste to the community- but that didn’t seem to have any matter to them anyways.

Staring at you like you were some Monster.

“You’re not welcome here.” The person murmurs with a coldness and genuine hatred in their tone, sharp like an icicle that cuts through your heart sharply. It’s not like you couldn’t understand that, they didn’t know anything about you besides what your dad has done.

Before you can respond, they continue as they walk closer to you with their hands fisted to their sides,

“You aren’t welcome anywhere around here, you don’t even know what has been going on here, ‘princess’. You’re just some brat who needs some kind of sick ego boost to try and make people love you and respect your image.” Each word spat like venomous cold spikes as they gesture one of their hands, as they get closer–you can see the other people in the alley look over and seem to tense up and get worried in some way.

“I know what my father does, I’m so s-” You begin as you take a step back, but being cut off be the person speaking louder with exasperation in their tone.

“No you don’t! You don’t have any idea what Norman is even doing to us! You just sit there and look pretty while your dad is ruining lives!” And if there weren’t other people around- well, if there weren't one of their friends, a girl with baggy jeans and a gray beanie holding them back, you don’t question what would’ve happened to you or what they would’ve done if that girl wasn’t holding them back.

“Dude..” The girl whisper yelled as she pulled the person yelling at you away from you and closer to herself, “What the hell are you doing? Don’t piss her off because she’ll tell her dad and he’ll fuck over each and everyone in this damn alleyway.” and she swats them on the shoulder.

Damn.

You really are just ‘daddy’s girl’.

You stay quiet and just place down the bag of treats and just walk off, out of the alleyway. Feeling the earlier emotions come to a boil once again as you fix the balaclava back on your face and walk down the pavement of the dimly lit street.

Rage.

Guilt.

Frustration.

With your eyes prickling with tears and resurfaced emotions following, you decide to walk to a part to calm down as the hot watered sadness drips from your eyes, down your cheeks and soaking into the fabric covering your face.

You find yourself here. Late at night. Silently sobbing your eyes out on a cold metallic bench you vividly remember your dad showing it to you when you were a kid.

You were about seven and you had fallen off a swing set and scraped your knee badly, you still have it slightly scarred on your knee if you looked for it enough.

Hot tears because of the burning pain on your soft flesh, you were sitting in this exact spot as your small hands were holding up your black and white striped leggings with your leg up, and Roxy tending to your wound with your dad sitting right beside you with his hand on his shoulder.

“You were reckless, and your mistake cost you. You don’t want to be getting hurt,” He begins before gently taking your chin with his calloused hand and making you look at him through sniffled sobs, “and you can’t be showing this weakness unless you want it to hurt you later on.” Your dad continued as he wiped away your tears with his leathery thumb brushing against your babyfat-filled cheeks.

And Now.

Crying like now you always did, as if you didn’t change. Still that little girl who only knows one thing: how to cry.

You sit back and hold your legs with your face in your knees, it's like everything that has been being held in–caused by your father or not.. Was crashing down and flooding your eyes like a broken dam through a canal. The balaclava grew damp before you hear an odd THWAP sound which makes you raise your head and look in the direction of the sound.

You see a familiar man with his gaze focused on you, wearing what seems to be a red spandex suit below a torn blue t-shirt and black ripped jeans that accentuate his already skinny and lanky body with a spiked leather jacket over his shoulders with several pins that decorate the chest and a spiked mohawk on his head.

Once you notice him approaching you quickly reach your hand under the balaclava to wipe your cheeks from the excess tears, internally grateful that your mask was already dark and the moisture from your tears won’t be too visible to this man.

“Excuse me? You- you alrigh’?” The man asks, his soft yet cockney voice immediately making you recall who this man specifically was: You’ve heard his booming words at protest rallies but never saw from who the vocal fighting came from because of your dad and his security quickly ushering you away to keep you safe–or to keep you unaware of your father’s negative popularity.

You sniffle for a second before answering “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been a shitty night.” while you clutch your bag a bit closer to you since he was still a stranger to you. He sees you tense and he chuckles while shaking his head and putting his hands into his pockets.

“Calm down there, ‘m just making sure you’re not some dealer tryna make bad lives worse.” He says jokingly as he glances at the bag you’re clutching, but also at your body language, “You’ve gotta understand how it looks for me, to find some masked person sitting in a bench in the crappy part of town.” His voice was playful yet gentle as if to calm you, he had some kind of charm that made him seem almost easy to talk to–especially since this is the first conversation you’ve had in a while that wasn’t swayed against you due to your name.

“And imagine how this looks for me, some dude walking up to me as I’m sat happily on a park bench.” You say back to him with a smirk under your mask.

“Touché.” He chuckled as he shook his head and stepped closer while offering his hand, “The Name’s Spiderpunk.” Once he introduced himself, you felt a splash of relief as he confirmed who he was. His name is said in his own way, in such a calm manner that contrasts the venomous words your father speaks of him when he thinks you can’t hear his disrespectful language. “And you are..?”

His body language is weirdly calm and relaxed, not at all judging you or making you uncomfortable.. Is that a green flag or a red one? You take and shake his gloved hand with yours. This was the only time a stranger wasn’t immediately hostile or rude to you, and you didn’t want to lose that. ..So what’s a little white lie?

“Emily.” You answer him with a soft nod. Your mothers name? Why say her name?

“Emily,” Spiderpunk echoed with a smile in his voice, “And uh.. Wha’s with the whole.. getup?” He asked as he gestured to you vaguely, mostly to your mask that's covering your face and only shows your dark eyes and long lashes, that were ever so slightly red and puffy because of the earlier crying.

“Don’t worry about it, just- lets just say my face around here is.. Disliked.” Because of my damn father.

He nods slightly, if he has some kind of expression on his face then you can’t even tell what it is because of his mask, you open your mouth to at least try and ask about that but he continued without realizing he practically interrupted you: your face is equally as covered.

“And uh.. Not that I don’ believe ya for your word, but I’ll have ‘o check that bag.” He says while gesturing at your backpack that you're clutching against you.

What? What kind of request is that? It’s not like you’ve even done anything to prompt this question in the first place, and who is he to ask about the bag or something?

“What are you, a cop? Some kind of narc?” You ask with your tone slightly more hostile than you’d want it to be. It’s not like you’re hiding anything either, but you literally have money and spray paint: You can get in trouble for some vandalism you haven’t even done yet.

He pauses for a second, seeming genuinely offended that you accused him of being a cop, as if you called him something below the respect that even vermin have.

“No. Nothing of the sort, never compare me to a cop.” He tells you firmly before muttering under his breath, “fucking pigs.” and without warning, he thwips a white silky rope out of his wrist and it attaches itself to your bag and rips it from your grasp.

You find yourself staring at Spiderpunk as he starts to casually go through your bag as if it were nothing and like you fully offered it to him. He chuckles as he sees some of your spray paint, you hear the cans clink as he shoves his hand into it and checks everything out.

“Tha’s it? Here I was partly thinking you’re some dealer trying to make sure this part of camden stays ghetto, but nah,” He hands you back your bag–He seems mostly amused by the obvious grin in his voice, “You’re just a stree’ artist?”

Street artist? That's what it’s called? You always loved art ever since you were a kid–So your dad always provided you art lessons, good paint, expensive sketching pencils, but he always made you draw boring things like fruit bowls or paint sunsets. But you even one time helped him with ideas for the Oscorp logo! That was fun for you at the time before you knew the shit Oscorp was doing.

But you realize he was pretty much asking for you to confirm if you’re a street artist or not. “Yeah- Yeah, I’m a.. Street artist?” You respond as you take the bag back, not even knowing if you’re saying it right, but you shouldn’t rely on someone to teach you so you reword what you said with a bit more of a firm tone “Yeah. I’m a street artist, tonight I haven’t really done art though.”

He nods and stays quiet for a moment as he looks at your masked face before he looks around and holds out his hand for you as if to help you up.

“Come with me, I know a good spot where you can put up your stuff. I was on my way there anyway so I could show you.” He had this tone where you knew you could say no, swat his hand away and run, politely decline and leave, Something but..

“Sure.”

You take his hand and stand before slinging your backpack handle over one of your shoulders. His mask hiding every bit of emotion he can possibly be showing besides the lenses over his eyes that squint slightly at an expression every once in a while but beyond that–you have to heavily rely on reading his tones and body language.

“Do you trust me?” He asked as he glanced over at you. He seemed like he wanted to do something and just wanted some of your approval. He seems strong and like he’s able to do a lot–and he leaves the decision all up to you.

With an unsure nod of your head, he pulls you closer and wraps his arm around your waist, "Hold on." He told you before shooting a web of his up to a building, your arms wrap around his neck–over his shoulders.

You shut your eyes tightly as you suddenly stop feeling the ground below your feet and cold air hitting and blowing against your body as you swing through the city and hold onto him for dear fucking life.

“My god, holy shit.” You say as you try not to yell but unable to be silent. Spiderpunk holds on to you with one strong slim arm around you and the other expertly shooting webs and slinging through the streets of Camden as if it's some common occurrence for him–well, it was.

Your vision is slightly blurred with the lights and the slight tears forming because of the dry wind blown against them. But before you know it–you’re on the ground again with a soft thud with Spiderpunk still holding onto you like it's nothing.

“You alrigh’?” He asks with some kind of smug tone that implies he somehow finds how you clung on to him amusing.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It's just that not everyone is used to slinging through the air.” You respond sarcastically as you let go of his with his hand on your waist lingering for a second before it falls to his side and his other arm raising his hand to gesture where you guys are and you feel your stomach drop once you see a familiar green logo- no, a familiar cut ribbon as well.

This is the new factory my dad opened.

Well, it wasn’t completely new that Spiderpunk was on his way to vandalize your dads newest business- how could you have forgotten? Your heart beats in your ribs as your eyes dart to the hidden cameras you know are there because your dad asked you to adjust them and help so you make sure they cover the whole area. “W-we shouldn't be here, at all.” you tell him as you grab his arm to keep him from getting too close to which he fully laughs while shaking his head and putting a hand over his eyes, Is this some sick joke to him?

“Didn’ think of you as the type to be afraid of Osborn. You’re full of surprises.” He coos while softly clutching his stomach teasingly.

“What? No! It’s just- there's security and-” You begin, before being cut off before he shoots webs in all directions and corners of the wall as though to cover the cameras- he over did some webs but they are definitely covered now.

“And we’re wearing masks. Osborn has nothing on us- and that sadistic fascist probably can pay someone to clean up. Bet this is worth pennies to him.” Spiderpunk scoffs, his voice full of disdain and genuine venom towards your father–and he doesn’t even know it.

Something about his words ring into your ears, it’s not like you didn’t know your dad was practically hated by everyone that wasn’t rich and privileged.

So why did this feel more.. real?

More true?

As if watching these acts in person other than the news you secretly watch is more.. In your face about these situations?

You swallow a big gulp and nod and take out your bag and open it to show the spray paints. Spiderpunk’s lenses squint as if he were smiling at you.

“Good girl.” He teased

The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. A blur full of laughter, smiling, story telling, and paint. Spiderpunk makes his usual tag on the building as you try to get the hang of using spray paint cans. Genuine laughs from Spiderpunk when you have a stupid yet funny comment, and a smile seen in your eyes when he has a joke. Something warm develops in your chest and cheeks by being in his playful presence, a bit foreign but it's a nice feeling. Like a warm hug..

At one point you two actually get to painting, with a practice ‘drawing’ being a little spider like the one he has on the back of his jacket. “Aw, nice! Am I like your muse?” He coos as he looks at the art you’re making with a hand on his hip.

You chuckle as you glance at him then look away to focus on the spider itself, “Like it? It looks l-” You pause and cut yourself off at the sound of a camera and a light flashing. Your head whips towards the sound and you see Spiderpunk took a polaroid picture of you.

You watch as the picture prints and he shakes it while it develops before giving it to you with a squinted lensed smile again. You see the picture is of you with your back turned and the spray paint can in your hand while it decorates the blank gray wall it's on.

“Keep i’, let it be a reminder of the time you met Spiderpunk.” He comments playfully as he picks up another spray paint can and goes to the free spot of the wall beside you which makes you laugh and shake your head while he chuckles softly.

But then you think of a question that ends up erupting from your throat as you put the picture into your jean pocket.

“Hey, Spiderpunk..” You begin as you spray a line of your paint, leaving a streak of black since you’re starting on the outline.

“Yeah?” He responds as he holds his own spray paint can in one spot to create the little dripage to give his tag the right style.

“Why do you hate Osborn so much? I mean, I dislike him too, but do you have a specific reason to hate him?”

Spiderpunk pauses slightly but keeps his gaze to the wall instead of looking at you.

“He is ruining lives and screwing people over for his own selfish gains. He’s a fascist twa’ that likes the power trip. And I can’t stand his pompous daugh’er either.” He answers while going back to what he was doing with his paint.

At this, you’re the one who pauses and keeps your gaze away. Before you can ask a little follow up–your phone goes off and you check it with eyes going wide once you see the time.

1:03am

Shit.

How long have you two been spray painting? You have to seriously get home before Roxy worries-

Or before your dad finds out you’re gone.

“I have to get the hell home- like.. Right fucking now.” You say as you scramble to grab your things and shove the almost empty paint cans into your bag, suddenly aware of what can happen to you if you arrive late- Roxy is always giving passive aggressive threats of telling on you to Osborn if you arrive home late.

Spiderpunk gets confused at how you suddenly have an urge to leave but helps you pick up your stuff anyway. “Heh, did you sneak out or something..?” He asks with a chuckle but is mostly curious as to why you’re leaving in such a hurry now.

You breathlessly chuckle before zipping up your bag. “Yeah, something like that.. Can you-” You cut yourself off as you realize you were about to ask him to take you home. Obviously he can’t know who you are- you cant lose this friendship.. Or whatever this is.

“Take me over to the park you found me. Now. ..please.” You say as you sling your bag over your shoulder and wrap your arms around his neck again–even if this time his body is warmer and there's something there that makes your heartbeat a little faster.

“Wow, and I was ‘bout to ask if you were sick of me already.” He coos teasingly before putting his arm around your waist, and with a secure grip you’re swinging through the air again.

You roll your eyes and hold onto him, he comes to a stop at the park and leaves you exactly where he found you-

On the bench.

You awkwardly say your goodbyes before bolting away in the direction you first came, you hastily put your backpack back into the tree and make your way through the dark garden. You smile to yourself as you think back on everything that you and that masked punk did tonight.

You climb up the tree beside your window and jump into your warm bedroom where the only lighting was the bathroom light you probably forgot to turn off and the hallway light outside your bedroom door peeking in from below the wooden barrier.

You kick off your boots and start removing your mask as you walk back over to where the shoebox under your bed hides. You enter your dimly lit room and see it just how you left it. You take a breath of relief and smile to yourself like an idiot as you think about Spiderpunk, walking to your bed as you remove the balaclava from your face and put it into the box along with your gloves and the picture.

Once you close the box and safely hide it under your bed, your dad suddenly bursts through your bedroom door and Roxy behind him.

“No! Mr. Osborn, She’s-” Roxy was saying to your dad before she looks at you and stares daggers for a moment before continuing more calmly, “See, sir? She’s right here.”

She had been distracting your dad while you were gone and you definitely owed her something since she was busting her ass. Your Dad seems like he was fuming but his gaze softened when he saw his daughter in her room like roxy had been saying to him.

“Hey, sweetie.” He greeted, almost awkward because of his aggressive entry. “It’s late, you should go to bed.” Osborn says as he walked over to you kissed you on the forehead.

“Yeah, I was just about to do that.” You retort in the usual chipper tone you used with him so he really had no idea of all the things you did against his back.

___

The next morning you go downstairs to your kitchen but overhear your dad livid on a call, so you stand by the door and listen in without making yourself known.

“What?! What do you mean he already hit the damn new factory at Elm street?” He practically roars but keeps mind to his volume since he thinks you’re asleep.

You smile to yourself as he begins ranting about Spiderpunk, the grin widening once he says something that made your heart pump slightly faster.

“A second one? Who the hell does he think he is, bringing some kind of date to ruin my work.”

___ @eyesxxyou .... I did it.

I'll make part 2 if this does well since I also have sm shit to do now that I have a job.

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown imagine #atsv hobie #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #hobie spiderverse #spiderpunk x reader #spiderman #fanfic #hobie brown #what’s in a name?

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orpheusluvr · 3 months ago

Text

Opposite Attraction (Norton x Female Reader)

NSFW WARNING

What happens when the daughter of a wealthy businessman falls in love with someone that doesn’t match up to her status at all?

You lay on your stomach on your bed, still wearing your nightdress while you immersed yourself in the book you were reading in front of you.

“So the rich woman fell in love with the man and married him, despite him being poor. That’s true love.” You smiled to yourself.

You heard a knock on your door.

“Y/N, dear? May I come in?” Your father’s voice echoed.

“Of course, father!” You called back.

He slowly turned the handle to your door and opened it, standing near the doorframe.

“I’m surprised to see you up quite early today, my little princess.” He smiled at you.

“I just felt like doing some early reading.” You smiled back.

“That’s my girl.” He walked over to you, lovingly ruffling your hair. “However, as much as I’m glad that you’re comfortable, you need to get dressed soon. I have some guests arriving today.”

“Oh? Who’s coming over?” You said.

“You’ve heard of the Golden Cave, right?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“Ah well, I’m going to discuss a business deal with the owner of it. He also mentioned that he is going to bring some of his best workers along, so make sure you dress well.” He began walking towards the door. “As for me, I’m now going to talk with the maids to discuss the catering. See you soon, my dear.” And then he went.

You closed your book and got up from the bed, walking towards your closet.

After a few minutes of rummaging through different gowns and dresses, you finally found the one that spoke out to you.

A black dress, with a gold strap around the waist. The top part was significantly open, which revealed almost too much of your cleavage. There was also a slit at the bottom, which revealed your right leg and most of your thigh. You slightly gulped, knowing that your father would tell you off for wearing your party dress during a business related event, but this wasn’t just any type of dress.

It belonged to your mother, and most of the clothes that were in your closet were hers. This dress in particular was her favourite.

Before you were born, she promised herself that she would pass her favourite clothing on to her future daughter if she had one. And as if by luck, you were born.

However, tragedy struck after your mother passed away a week later after your birth. The doctors said it must’ve been late pregnancy issues. And because of that, you felt like an unlucky child. Cursed even. But your father was always there to reassure you that it wasn’t your fault at all. However, the guilt within you still lingered. And the fact that you can’t remember anything about her at all while only being around her for a week still hurt.

A few minutes later, you eventually left your room and walked down the steps into the open hall.

Your father looked at you, shaking his head.

“My dear, what did I tell you about this dress?” He said.

“Sorry father, I know it’s a little too much for today but I really like it. Especially since it’s mother’s favourite.” You said.

Your father suddenly paused for a moment, but the sound of the doorbell gave him a sudden shock.

A few minutes later, your father had already started talking to the owner of the Golden Cave about the business deal, while also proudly showcasing your mansion. Even though he was a good father, he still had some arrogance in him.

The cave owner and his workers were shocked when they found out that their new business partner had a beautiful daughter. For some reason, they assumed that your father lived alone.

Your father and the cave owner eventually walked away to discuss things alone in more detail, leaving the workers with you to communicate with.

All the workers that you had greeted seemed much older than you, which did put you off considering what you were wearing. But you still forced a smile. Until someone caught your eye.

While the other workers walked away to look around at the paintings in the hallway, you walked up to a particular worker that was standing alone. In front of a large portrait of your mother that was on the wall.

You stood next to him. He turned to look at you, as you did the same. And for a moment, you felt like your heart had started beating faster.

He seemed to be the youngest worker here, possibly around the same age as you. You couldn’t fail to admit that he was handsome.

“Oh phew, I’m glad I found someone that I can actually talk to.” You laughed nervously.

“Hm.” He grunted. You noticed the way his eyes looked at you, most likely checking you out. You nervously adjusted your dress, while his gaze was still on you.

“That’s my mother, by the way.” You said awkwardly, trying to start a conversation of some sort. “She passed away a week after I was born, though.”

“Oh…I’m really sorry to hear that.” The man said.

“It’s fine. I don’t remember her at all, unfortunately.” You said.

“Well, I can see where you get your good looks from.” He said.

Your cheeks reddened. Did he just compliment you?

“Do you really m-”

Within a split second, he immediately pinned you against the wall, his eyes staring deeply into yours.

“Yes. I meant every word.” His voice was cold yet seductive.

He traced a finger down your lips and chin.

“Tell me, rich girl. Would you ever marry a man that is worth much less than you?” He whispered.

You immediately remembered the book you were reading before.

“If it’s true love, then y-”

Cutting off your sentence, the man immediately met your lips, giving you a passionate kiss before slowly breaking free.

You looked at him in shock, but the feeling you had was indescribable.

You wanted more.

“Does this answ-”

This time, you cut his sentence after returning him with a much more needy kiss. He accepted it immediately, his hands roaming around your waist while yours clawed against his back as your tongues clashed against each other. As you pulled away, you both took deep breaths.

“We can’t continue this here…someone will notice us.” You whispered.

He shook his head as he moved his hands and lifted you up on his shoulder, carrying you into the nearby guest room.

“What’s your name?” The man asked, towering above you on the bed. He began pulling down one of the straps on your dress.

“I’m Y/N. And you?” You said.

“Norton.” He said, as he pulled down the other strap.

“Nice to…ngh…meet you-” you were interrupted as he began kissing your neck, then began biting almost too harshly.

“Not too…hard…” you whimpered.

He replied with a simple grunt as he moved lower, pulling down you dress even further. Your breasts sprung in front of his face, exciting him even more. He began licking around one of your nipples, while his hair tickled your skin. You grabbed a handful of his hair, while your breathing became intense and your moans became louder. You felt the heat in your core increase with every lick.

“N-Norton…please…” you whimpered.

“Mmh?” He stopped and looked up at you.

You were desperate for some sort of friction. You wanted something inside you. Norton smirked, managing to read your face perfectly like a book. He licked his lips as he devoured your figure with his eyes.

“Alright, fine. I’ll give you what you want.” He said as he moved away. He spread your legs apart, then carefully slid off your panties, tossing them away. His strong arm held onto your right leg and raised it up on his shoulder.

He began unbuckling the belt to his pants and pulled his underwear down, revealing his erect dick which was considerably larger than you’d expect, with a few veins running down it. You violently thrusted your hips forward, slamming against his legs in a desperate attempt to make him enter you already. He gave a laugh.

“Gosh…have some patience.” He shook his head, as he entered you instantly, his entire length filling you up. He took a deep breath as he felt your walls clench around him.

“So tight for me, aren’t you?” He purred.

You could only manage a simple nod as you fought back tears. He hadn’t even started thrusting yet, but you could already feel like you were being rearranged from inside.

His dick was just so huge.

Norton used his free hand to hold the side of your waist, leaning in for a kiss as he began at a fast pace.

“Ngh…mmph!” You broke away from his lips, lust dancing in your eyes as you let out a moan after another, synchronising with his fast movements.

“Norton…N-Norton!” You threw both of your arms back, desperately gripping onto the bedsheets.

He kept hitting your sweet spot each time, so perfectly. Your hips slammed against his with each thrust, the sound of skin to skin contact filling up the room, mixed with your small whimpers and loud moans.

You both reached your climax, feeling warmth as each of your fluids seeped out and mixed together. Norton gently pulled out of you, then laid beside you, catching his breath.

You threw your head back as you also tried to catch your breath, your chest falling and rising. Norton took one last glance at you before leaning forward and kissing your forehead, his face a deep red hue.

“Is this true love then?” He looked at you.

You paused for a moment, then smiled.

“Maybe.” You said.

No, it wasn’t a maybe.

After the experience you had just now, you were over the moon for Norton. Right now, you felt like the woman in the story.

But you knew that your father wouldn’t let you stay with this man. Norton noticed your face drop.

He gently cupped your face with his hand.

“I know you must be worried about what your father would think of us.” He said.

You sank your head in defeat.

“Norton, I’ve realised that I’m truly in love with you. But yes, unfortunately my father would rather have me get married to a man who is within the same class as me.” You said.

“Yeah, like I already didn’t know that.” He said, coldly. You noticed that the light in his eyes that he had ever since he first saw you had gone.

“I’m sorry…maybe I could try to convince h-”

“It’s no use. Forget about it.” He pulled his underwear and pants back up, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You adjusted your dress then got up and crawled beside him, hugging him tightly from behind. His breath hitched for a moment.

“Y/N…you should stop. You won’t see me ever again after today.” He sighed.

“Norton. Please don’t leave me. I love you.” You buried your head into his shoulder.

He suddenly paused.

“What did you say?” He said.

“I love y-”

Norton immediately turned around and pinned you against the bed, kissing you deeply. This time, the kiss was more of a romantic one.

“I love you too.” He said, after pulling away.

You had fallen in love with a man who worked hard for many hours in such dangerous conditions, most of the time without enough sleep or any sleep at all and an alarmingly short amount of food in his body but still earned less than how much you’d earn in a week from pocket money. A man, whose hands were calloused and dirty from the work he did. Countless cuts and bruises would form each day.

You wanted to be the one to turn his life around for good.

To you, he was the one. Your true love. No one could tell you otherwise.

#identity v fanfic #identity v x you #idv x reader #idv x you #identity v x reader #idv fanfic #idv smut #norton campbell #idv norton #identity v norton #norton x reader #norton campbell x reader

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