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[pedroscurls]

secret crushes (one-shot)

summary: you've known hugh for years, having not only a personal friendship with him, but also a professional one. then, ryan decides to play matchmaker unbeknownst to you or hugh. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader word count: 4.5k warnings: this is complete filth bc how can you not look at that first photo and just be fine??? anyway - porn with little plot, unprotected p in v, public beach sex, seated cowgirl, oral - m receiving, light dirty talk, no use of y/n. a/n: this is for the anon who requested this spicy idea! i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it. i haven't opened up my requests since 2017 (i think), but ya know, that might change after this lol. i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman! this is purely fictional.

“All expenses paid,” you hear Ryan say over the phone. “You deserve a vacation. Even Blake agrees.”

“Ryan, no,” you protest, beginning to clean up your small coffee shop for the day. When you opened your own coffee shop so many years ago, you didn’t expect that not only would it be great business, but that you’d be very close friends with Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman. 

“Oh, come on!” he says. “When was the last time you took time for yourself, hm?” 

There’s a silence that engulfs the two of you.

Before you can even speak, Ryan chimes in. “Exactly. You’ll have your own hotel room. You don’t have to spend the entire trip with us, though, we will be hurt if you don’t hang out with us, and–” he teases. 

“Okay, fine! Fine,” you huff. “I’m sure after Deadpool & Wolverine, you need some time for you and your family too.”

“Yeah,” Ryan replies. “I feel like I can be a good dad now.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You’ve always been a good dad.”

“Eh,” he chuckles. “So, we’ll see you at the airport this weekend?”

“Sure.”

“Actually, we’re going to pick you up.” Ryan decides. “That way, I know for sure you’ll be coming with us.”

“God, you’re annoying!” you laugh. “Fine. I’ll see you and the family this Friday night. After I close up.”

“No, no. We’re leaving in the morning. Your coffee shop will be fine.”

“I know, it’s just–” you sigh, resting the phone between your ear and shoulder as you rearrange the bags of coffee on the display. Your mind drifts momentarily when you see the Laughing Man coffee beans, thinking about Hugh. “Nevermind.” 

“You think too much,” Ryan points out then his voice turns serious for a moment. “You’ll be okay. Your shop will be okay. In the time we’ve known you – Hugh and I – you’ve always been working, busting your ass.”

“I know,” you then move your gaze to the amount of photographs on your wall behind the counter. They are photographs that you’ve taken, candid ones of your employees, landscape portraits of the trips you’ve taken to find the best coffee beans, even personal photos of you and your family and friends, including Hugh, Ryan, and Blake. 

“So…” he says. “Pick you up Friday morning?” 

“Yes, Ryan. You can pick me up Friday morning. You’re very convincing, do you know that? You just never quit until you get your way.” 

“What can I say? I’m very persuasive.” He chuckles. “Okay, I’ll see you Friday. Have a good rest of your week. Call me if you need anything.” 

“I’m sure I’ll see you and Hugh before then,” you tease. “At this rate, all this free coffee I give you does amount to a free trip.”

“Exactly! Talk to you later.” 

—

You hadn’t spoken to Hugh in weeks, knowing that he and Ryan had been doing constant press conferences and interviews after Deadpool & Wolverine came out. You’d never admit it to either of them, but you did go out to watch the movie and it only fueled the crush that you had on Hugh. Especially that final scene. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t go home that night with thoughts filled of him. Shirtless and glistening. It was rather inappropriate, really. Not only did you and Hugh start out as friends, but you also had a partnership with him where he sells his brand of coffee at your coffee shop and takes a cut of what the sales make. It’s worked for years now and you never really looked at him in a way that was more than a friend or partner. You knew he was good looking, so sweet and funny, but it wasn’t until months after his divorce that you started to look at him differently. You had to wonder if he looked at you the same way because you started to notice how often he would come by when you were closing up to help you clean, or how his gaze on you would linger, his touches seemingly becoming more and more less friendly and more intimate. 

You’re already on the plane with Ryan, Blake, and the rest of their family. It never felt like you were the odd one out. Both Ryan and Blake always made you feel like you were part of their family. There were plenty of times where you and Hugh would babysit Ryan and Blake’s children while they were busy and always, they’d ask for Uncle Hugh to sing songs from The Greatest Showman. You were always right there next to him, singing and performing alongside him to entertain the kids. 

When you moved to New York, it was a big leap of faith. It wasn’t always easy, but Hugh, Ryan, and Blake made you feel less alone when there were times you weren’t sure you were ever going to make it out here. Now, you can’t even think of leaving New York. It has become your home. These people… They have become your family. 

You look up from your notebook to see Blake and Ryan staring at you, both with big grins on their faces. You can tell they were hiding something, so you shut your notebook and point at them.

“Okay, spill.”

Ryan feigns a gasp, palms raising up in surrender. “Can’t my beautiful wife and I stare at you lovingly?” 

Blake lets out a quiet laugh and rolls her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re both really bad liars,” you point out. “What is it? Why are you both smiling at me like that?”

“We’re just happy that you’re finally taking some time to yourself,” Blake replies, moving to sit next to you. 

“You’re much more convincing than your husband,” you say loud enough for Ryan to hear.

“I take offense to that,” Ryan says. 

Blake turns to you and looks down at your notebook, tilting her head in amusement. “Even away from your coffee shop, all you can think about is how to improve it. Don’t you ever stop working?” 

“Never,” you laugh, opening your notebook for her to look through. “Fall is right around the corner, so I’m just thinking of a few specialty drinks that I can introduce for a limited time. I hear pumpkin spice is very popular.”

You and Blake stare at each other and then erupt into a fit of laughter, both of you shaking your heads. “Can you promise me one thing on this trip?” she asks.

“I can try.” 

“Try to have some fun, don’t think so much about work. It’ll be there when you get back. We’re in Hawaii for two weeks. Just–” Blake shrugs. “Be open and let loose.” 

You arch an eyebrow. “I feel like there’s a hidden meaning there somewhere.”

“Oh, there is!” Ryan nods, a grin lining his lips. “Or is there?” 

“The both of you,” you shake your head. “Are ridiculous.”

“Ah, but you love us,” Blake grins. 

“Unfortunately,” you tease. “But okay, I’ll do my best. No work. No thinking about work. I’ll try and focus on being in the present.” 

“Maybe you can meditate,” Ryan calls out. “You know, Hugh swears by it.” 

Hugh. The mere mention of his name makes your heart flutter and you subconsciously bite your lower lip. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Blake who tries to bite back a smile. 

“Yeah, maybe.” You stand up and then motion towards the bathroom, excusing yourself from both Blake, Ryan, and their kids. 

Blake then turns to Ryan and grins. She whispers very quietly. “I think it’s going to work.” 

“I sure hope so. Neither of them have any clue what we’re trying to do.” 

“You’ve seen it. I’ve seen it. They’re the only ones who haven’t seen it,” Blake says. 

“Oh, Hugh’s seen it,” Ryan winks. 

Blake chuckles. “Well, let’s see how this trip goes.”

“If it all goes well, they’ll be leaving together,” Ryan replies. 

—

You’ve been in Hawaii for three days now. You’ve possibly spent every moment with Ryan and his family since arriving. You didn’t mind though. Being in their company helped keep your mind away from work, away from the responsibilities that await you at home, away from Hugh. Today, though, Ryan and Blake want to spend the day at a secluded beach to allow their kids to roam free and have fun without worrying about possible paparazzi. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a deep blue bikini set – a halter triangle top tied at the base of your neck and back, and a cheeky bottom with side ties that rest on the side of your hips – with a white, long sleeve cover-up. You take a few pictures of yourself, wanting to send it to Hugh or even post it on social media, but you don’t. Instead, you turn off your phone and set it inside your bag before you leave your room to meet Ryan and the family. 

Throughout the entire ride to the island, Ryan and Blake can’t keep their eyes off of you. You busy yourself, though, with playing with their kids, hearing their laughter fill the car. You can tell they’re excited, jumping up and down in their seats as they talk amongst one another about the things they’ll do once they get to the beach. 

It isn’t until you all arrive at the beach and climb out that you notice another car in the lot. Ryan had mentioned before that it would just be his family and you, so you had to wonder if maybe he had gotten something wrong along the way of planning this. But if you were concerned about it, he certainly didn’t show it himself. Instead, he climbs out of the car and grabs the kids’ bags from the trunk before he and Blake motion for you to follow them onto the beach. Your toes hit the sand as you slide your sunglasses on your face. You tell Ryan and Blake that you’ll be at a distance, allowing them at least some time to spend with their kids without you and it gives you enough time to try and meditate. Maybe it will work, you tell yourself. 

You don’t see anyone else nearby and you’re at a good distance from Ryan and Blake, so you set down your towel and bag, removing your cover-up and sunglasses. You make sure to reapply more sunscreen before you walk towards the water. It’s cold and it causes a shiver to run down your spine, so you force yourself to dive in to get acclimated to the temperature of the water. 

The beach had always calmed you down, kept you grounded. It was one of the reasons why you had been so hesitant to leave your hometown of California. From one side of the coast to another. Once you come back up, you run your hands through your wet hair, slicking it back away from your face as you stand, the water only reaching your upper thighs. When you open your eyes, though, your jaw drops. 

Hugh is within a few arms reach as his eyes meet yours. The surprise look on his face tells you all that you need to know. 

He had no idea you would be here.

And neither did you. 

You can’t help but let your eyes take in his frame. His broad chest, water trickling down his frame, disappearing into the waistband of his black board shorts. He’s pulling his shorts up just a bit, but it gives you a good view of the v-cut he has and immediately, you’re aware of the feeling between your legs.

But just like you’re checking him out, Hugh’s also allowing his eyes to roam over your frame. The bikini you’re wearing is so tiny and tight around your frame. He tries to tell himself not to get excited at the mere sight of you, but it’s hard. He’s getting hard, so he does his best to think of other things that could lessen his excitement. 

Since his divorce, Hugh had taken comfort in your presence. What started out as a friendship turned partnership had blossomed into something else. Surely, you felt it too. Or at least that’s what he told himself. 

“Hello, you,” he calls out. 

The both of you begin walking towards each other, meeting in the middle as the waves crash around you. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you say softly. Out of instinct, you reach out to give him a hug, warms snaking around his shoulders. This feels good, hugging him like this feels fucking great. You feel his hard chest and hair against you. He’s so wet, so slick and you just want to–

“I think Ryan may have forgotten to tell us both,” Hugh says, voice deep and husky against your ear as his arms wrap around your waist. Hugh shuts his eyes as he feels your breasts against him, his fingertips resting just above your backside and he feels his manhood stir awake. 

Quickly, Hugh pulls away, slowly lowering himself in the water to cover the growing erection between his legs and also to keep some distance between your bodies. You do the same, swimming further into the water as you both continue to float. 

“And Blake,” you add. “You think it was intentional? You ask, turning to look over your shoulder to see both Ryan and Blake staring at the both of you. 

Hugh looks over at them and lets out a quiet chuckle. “Dunno,” he answers. “But I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Me too,” you blush, heat rising in your cheeks. “How long– How long have you been here?”

“Three days.”

“Those fuckers,” you chuckle. “They totally set this up.”

Hugh laughs alongside you and tilts his head in amusement. He watches you closely, seeing you gnaw at your lower lip nervously (it’s something he’s noticed about you very early on). You bring your hand up to stroke your hair back away from your face and Hugh can’t help but smile to himself. He likes you. Really likes you and he knows that he shouldn’t act on it, knows that there should be some boundary, but he can’t help himself. 

“You nervous?” he asks quietly. 

“What?” you answer, looking up at him. “No…”

“You’re doin’ that thing you do,” Hugh points out. He gently reaches out and runs the pad of his thumb along your lower lip, causing you to release it between your teeth. 

“What thing?” 

“You know what thing,” he chuckles, slowly swimming closer to you. “You bite your lower lip a lot when you get nervous or when you’re deep in thought. So, you’re either nervous or you’re thinkin’ about somethin’. Which is it?”

“Neither,” you lie. 

Hugh narrows his eyes slowly and drags his thumb at the center of your lower lip and down to your chin until he hooks it in his grasp. “Now, I know you’re not someone who lies,” he begins, moving his thumb across your jawline. “Don’t tell me you’re lying now.”

“I’m both,” you blurt out, leaning against his touch. “I’m nervous and I’m thinking about something.”

“You’re always thinking about something,” Hugh points out. “Do I…” he asks hesitantly and drops his hand back into the water. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Right now you are.”

“Why?” 

“Because…” you whisper, looking deeply into his eyes. “One, we’re both basically half naked.”

“We’re at a beach,” he says with a small smile. “We’re in our bathing suits.”

“Half naked,” you correct. “And two, you’re just–” you stop yourself and drop your eyes to his lips then back up to gaze into his eyes. You then remember what Blake told you. Try to have some fun. Be open. Let loose. Now, you understand exactly what she meant by that. So, you let out a shaky breath and continue. “You’re just so fucking hot, Hugh, and yes, you’re making me nervous because you’re literally shirtless and wet, and you’re muscular and it’s just–”

Hugh’s laughter interrupts your rambling. You notice the way his nose crinkles upwards when the laughter comes deep within the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, you’re very aware that you just made a fool out of yourself and you gently shove him. 

“It’s not funny! You asked and so I told you. I was being honest!” 

“I’m not–” he sighs, his laughter dying down. “I’m not laughing at you, baby.” The term slips past his lips so effortlessly and he reaches out from underneath the water to grab a hold of your hip, pulling you to him. “I’m laughing because you think I’m hot to a point that you’re stuttering over your words. Have you seen yourself?” The smile remains on his lips and his thumb begins to rub circles at your hip. “Because if anyone should be nervous, it’s me.”

“You?” 

“Oh, come on,” he says. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that I’ve got the biggest crush on ya.” 

“Wait, you what?” your eyes slightly widen in surprise, but you can’t help the way your stomach flips in excitement. 

“I’ve got a crush on ya,” he whispers. “And I shouldn’t even be having crushes at this age,” Hugh chuckles nervously. “But I do. I like you.”

“You’re not joking?”

“Why would I be joking?”

“Because you can have literally anyone you want and–”

“I want you.” Hugh says, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. “Do you want me to?” 

“More than you fucking know, Hugh.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your lips against him. You sigh against him moving your legs to wrap around his waist underneath the water as you move your lips against his own. 

Hugh growls against you, both hands moving to your hips as he leans further into you, tilting his head to get a better angle of your lips. He didn’t realize this was how his trip was going to go. After Ryan convinced him to take some time off, especially after the success of their movie together, he was hesitant. He didn’t want to take time off. He was used to being busy, especially after his divorce, but Hugh had only agreed to come on the trip to figure out his feelings for you. 

He just didn’t realize that you’d be here too. 

In the distance, you and Hugh can hear a faint clapping and hollering. You both pull away to look over at the noise and see Blake, Ryan, and their kids jump up in excitement, cheering for the both of you. You see them wave in your direction before they begin to grab their things, making their way back to the parking lot. You then look at Hugh and gaze into his eyes.

“Are they leaving us? Leaving me?” You ask. 

“I can take you back,” Hugh says softly. 

You bite your lower lip and nod. “Only if it isn’t–”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if our hotel rooms are right next to each other,” Hugh chuckles, slowly then moving his hands down as he grasps your backside in his large hands, pulling you flush against him. His gaze darkens as he stares into your eyes. He thinks maybe he might have moved too fast, but when you roll your hips against him, he knows exactly what’s going to happen next. 

You want him just as bad as he does. 

“Hugh,” you whisper, voice laced with desire. “Please.” 

“Tell me, baby.”

“I need you.” You bury your face in the side of his neck and gently nip at his skin, feeling his hands move under you, his long fingers brushing against your core as it causes you to gasp. 

Hugh’s painfully hard against his board shorts and he lets out a low groan when he feels your teeth scrape against the skin at his neck. He feels you squirming against him, moaning into his ear and he has to pull away briefly to look into your eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

“If I have to say please one more time…”

“I don’t mind hearin’ you beg,” he winks. “Come on.” Hugh leads you out of the water and towards his towel in a much more secluded area. You drift from him for a moment to grab your things before following him, watching him lay out his towel before he takes a seat on it, legs spread wide. 

You bite your lower lip and lay out your towel in front of him, dropping to your knees as you crawl towards him until you're seated on your knees between his legs. “We won’t get in trouble, will we?”

Hugh shrugs, reaching down to cup your cheek. “Don’t think so. Ryan made sure that no one but us should be here and–”

“That’s good enough for me.” You lean down and move your hands to the waistband of his board shorts. He’s dripping wet from the water and you can see the outline of his length perfectly due to his shorts sticking to him. You hook your fingers into the waistband and slowly pull it down enough to see his length spring free. Hugh lets out a low groan of relief and reaches behind you to undo the knot at the base of your neck. Once loose, he watches your top fall open to reveal your breasts. He doesn’t have enough time to take in your newly exposed chest because your hand wraps around his base, soft lips grazing the head of his manhood. 

“Ah, baby,” he growls, moving a hand to your shoulder, gripping it tightly as your mouth wraps around his tip. Hugh shuts his eyes and tosses his head back, moving one hand to rest on the towel while the other remains on your shoulder. 

You look up at him, feeling an immediate possessiveness wash over you. He looks so beautiful like this, eyes shut, chest heaving, and at your mercy. 

You begin to stroke his base as your tongue swirls around his tip, lapping at his precum. His groans slowly become louder as you lower your head to take more of him, stroking his base when you realize you can’t take him whole. He’s larger than you expected, girthy and long, and it excites you. As you continue to stroke him in time with sucking his length, you feel Hugh’s hand move from your shoulder to the back of your head as his hips slightly lift itself. He pushes himself further into your mouth, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly. 

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes opening to look down at you. God, Hugh can just come at the sight of you. Tears slightly stinging the corners of your eyes and your mouth stuffed full of him. What a beautiful fucking sight, he thinks.

Slowly, Hugh has to pull away from you because he feels the pit of his stomach tightening, searching for release. He lets out a low growl that reverberates through his chest and you lean up on your knees, licking your lips. Hugh reaches out for you and pulls you on his lap, hurriedly moving your bikini bottom to the side. He grasps his manhood and runs his tip along your length, feeling your wetness coat him with each movement.

“You’re wet for me?” he asks, eyes staring up at you. 

“Only for you.” you reply, eyes fluttering as you feel his tip slowly push into you. He releases his hold on his length and rests his hand on your hip, leaning down to press soft kisses against your chest before he moves onto a breast, flicking his tongue against your nipple repeatedly before he wraps his lips around it. 

You let out a loud moan, moving your hands to his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself onto him, your walls tight and wet sliding down his cock. You feel so full of him and he’s not yet fully in the hilt. The stretch is almost painful, but you’re so wet and throbbing that you have to stop yourself from slamming down onto him. 

“Oh god, Hugh,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders as you move along his length, not yet allowing him to fill you to the hilt as your walls begin to make way for him. 

Hugh moves his lips to your other breast, eyes staring up at you. He wants more of you, needs more of you so he slowly lifts his hips, inching further within your depths. 

“Shit,” he groans, watching as his cock disappears into you completely. Hugh’s hands rest over your hips as you pull him closer to you, chests pressed against one another as you slowly roll your hips against his. “So fucking tight, baby,” he whispers against you, forehead resting on yours. 

“You’re–” you gasp, feeling his hair at the base brush against your clit as you continue your movements. “So big,” you moan, eyes falling shut. 

Hugh gently pecks your lips and takes a hold of your hips to guide you along his length. He watches you reach for his cowboy hat, placing it on top of your head and Hugh has to force himself to hold back his release. 

“You’re so hot,” he moans, allowing you to take control of your movements. Hugh can’t help the way your walls tighten around his cock – you’re so warm and wet, so inviting and tight. He knows he’s close, but he can’t– he can’t finish without you finishing first. 

“Baby,” Hugh whimpers, holding you flush against him in a tight grip. “Don’t– Fuck, baby, don’t move.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, hands moving to link at the base of his neck. “You can come, Hugh.”

“No,” he shakes his head, losing his resolve as your hips move forward and backward slowly. “You have to be first– Shit…”

“This won’t be the only time,” you say reassuringly, lightly pecking his lips. You then increase your movements, hips moving forward and backward at a faster pace. Hugh’s so deep in this position and you know you’re close, but you’re determined to have Hugh finish before you. 

“Sweetheart,” Hugh grunts. “Baby, I’m–” His eyes flutter shut as he lets out a loud groan, mouth slightly agape as his fingertips dig almost painfully into your hips. His release shoots inside of you, painting your walls as his manhood throbs within your depths. 

He’s still half hard and you take this moment to begin bouncing along his length, using your hand to reach down between you to rub your clit and Hugh’s eyes narrow. He pushes your hand away and rubs your clit with his thumb in a circular motion. 

Hugh feels possessive and almost animalistic at the sight of you using him to get yourself off. He can feel your walls begin to tremble and he’s still a bit sensitive, but you just feel so fucking good. 

“Come on, baby,” he coos, applying pressure to your clit. “I know you’re there. Come for me, sweetheart.”

That’s all it took. Your walls tighten around his length as your body trembles against him. Hugh moves his hand to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning up to press his lips against yours. He’s still inside of you, his length softening as the moment passes. 

You move your lips lazily against his, heavy breaths passing through the both of you as Hugh pulls back slowly. “Wanna head back to the hotel?” he grins. 

“Oh, hell yeah.” 

[dcxdpdabbles]

I love every fic That has Danny still being Phantom even while in the DC universe but sometimes I just want my little guy to flex his intellect and be all around little mad scientist that only sometimes uses his powers to pick up a screwdriver

Danny is smart.

He knows he is brilliant.

He may have been outshined by his family when he was younger, but that was because his focus was on something else, and frankly, being born last into a family of geniuses made one feel like one wasn't as intelligent as them.

He constantly compared himself to them, knowing that they had already achieved what he was doing and falling further and further behind in his self-wellow.

Then Danny left Amity Park and went into the real world.....he found his intelligence got him far. Danny was exceptionally brilliant when he was working on machinery, chemistry, and, above all else, engineering.

Maybe it had something to do with watching his parents repurpose any household item into a completely new technology that affected beings from different dimensions simply because they used math.

Or maybe it was that his brain was always moving, always connecting, and constantly processing. Danny didn't realize that people couldn't just make whatever idea came into their heads a reality.

Hell, his dad heard about Mr. Freeze's ray and he made a copy in two months. Danny made Mr. Freeze's ray in two weeks. He made other ghost tech in that same amount or enough to arm his schoolmates in one afternoon.

The point is that Danny is good at what he does. Put a screwdriver in huis hand, and he be off until whatever hair brain idea he had a physical form.

Everyone in Amity Park knew this as a fact about the Fentons/ Since they moved in, there was nothing but experiments one right after the other. Sure, they wasted it on things like Ecto-studies, but his parents made their money from somewhere before the world learned about ghosts.

Danny's parents had many, and he means many, patents. Everything from a brand of microwaves to vehicle parts.

His parents created them, sold them to partial rights to companies, and then wasted whatever money they got on some new experiment for a ghost that had not yielded any fortunes.

He thought he could do the same. Just apply to anywhere that would take him after creating a portable phone changer on one's wrist. He figured it would have gotten less attention than he did hadn't he just shown up at Wayne Expo as an unknown inventor through his parents contacts.

Danny had felt relatively small with his foldable plastic table and his four cardboard boxes of his invention while everyone had booths and screens, and a few even had prominent speakers with people in suits that cost more than his house

. Danny felt like a little kid trying to sell lemonade in the five-star hotel lobby. Everyone walked right by him without a glance, or they jeered and mocked him.

That was until Bruce Wayne wandered over. Kind and charming the man, maybe he wasn't the brightest- but he stood there listening to Danny excitedly explain how moving the hand on the bracelet caused it to charge, so walking around with it was all the kinetic energy it needed.

His ward- Dick Grayson, in all his tiny ten-year-old authority, had purchased a bracelet from Danny. It had been the only sale he made that night, but it was the only one he needed. Bruce had called him to offer him a position at WE.

Like his parents, Danny enjoyed his freedom, so instead, he offered to be a freelance inventor. He would show the Wayne's first dibs but go where the wind took him. He made them if he found buyers who weren't trying to ice him out of profits.

Unlike his parents, he didn't waste the funds past his travels. Slowly but surely building up a fortune over time.

Danny still went out as Phantom, but over the years he invented random gadgets and chemicals that he would ship to Bruce for a healthy paycheck. Ussually he makes something that the rich man off-handedly comments on.

"Oh Danny, I just loved skydiving, but I'm scared Dick's parachute will get stuck."

Danny invented one with small rocket blasters Bruce could manually control into landing for his son.

"I always enjoy undersea diving. The tanks are a killer on my back. Jason was almost weighted down by them too."

Danny created a breathing mask that had the tanks in smaller easier-to-carry cylinders.

"Tim really loves his computers. Wish I could take the whole thing with me when I go out!"

Danny had a working computer on a heliographic wristwatch the next month.

It was awesome. Danny traveled a lot but always found time to call and speak with Bruce. He got to know the man well over the years, found himself chatting with him for hours, and even spent his visits to Gotham at Wayne Manor as a guest.

Bruce's kids were a riot to be around. He would often go away for a while only to return and find that they had grown in numbers. He loved them like his own and found himself a confidant among the children.

It was he that Dick called to whispers about his insecurity within Bruce's home. He would go to all the gymnastics and mathletes shows he could catch, cheering the loudest among the rich parents as Dick outshone the rest of the children.

Danny had practically flown home to rip Bruce a new one until the man admitted to his gapping son that he had applied to be his father mere months after taking him in.

It was Danny that Jason spoke to when Dick and Bruce's fights were too loud. He would take the boy on trips, and talk for hours about books to calm down, then he had sat Bruce and Dick down to rip another new one.

It was no surprise that Jason had called him when he had tried to run away to confront his birth mother. He had been there to see the bitch arrested before she could hurt Jason.

It was Danny that Tim often sought out to showcase his photos. He always made sure to call the boy right before he was meant to sleep, regardless of which part of the world Danny was on, to wish him goodnight and talk about their days.

Tim always brightened whenever Danny caught his skateboard competitions or club performances. He was the one who found out Tim's biological parents neglected him after the boy told him, and he was the one to help Bruce win custody.

Then came Damian, who was as scared as he was angry. Danny adored him and saw so many ghost-like mannerisms in him that connecting to the boy wasn't hard at all.

Bruce didn't seem to understand that his son was used to outlined expectations and grew irritable when he felt he failed them. He was the one that help Damian get used to his environment and was the one the boy was much more willing to try new things with.

Steph and Danny often got along well with their sense of humor, but mostly she followed him around, seeking approval that likely missed out from her parents. They would sit down and talk about her future and what she wanted in life, and he even let her practice her makeup on him and giggle about boys.

Sometimes, it felt like she didn't have to be the tough girl from the rough part of town. She could be a teenage girl without a care in the world. At least, that's what she claimed Danny made her feel like.

Cass didn't talk much, but she didn't have to for Danny to not see how much she enjoyed their days out, too.

He loved taking her to see the arts, to sit and listen to music together, and most of all, to see her slowly bloom into a sociable young lady so different from the closed-off girl that first arrived at Wayne Manor.

Duke was still relatively new, but Danny could spot the wild, unhinged look in his eye that would have made him a proper Fenton. The two often spent their time playing video games and working in the community together.

Duke seemed to enjoy when Danny invited him to tag along on short trips, especially when the two would go camping. As someone who grew up in the city, he had never been fishing until Danny taught him how to reel in a big one at a lake a state over. The whole Wayne family had cheered the dark skin boy on as he held the trout over his head for the photo.

Alfred treated him like one of the family sometimes meeting up with Danny on his travels for a cup of tea or a nice phone call to gossip about Bruce.

Danny loved it but adored when the Waynes would help with his inventions. Even if all they did was sit in his makeshift lab inside his RV or the west wing of Wayne Manor like Bruce did, having them made his hands fly faster and his calculations sharper.

Sometimes, he caught the strangest, softest look on Bruce's face when Danny would be wielding.

Danny was so used to this lifestyle that he would forget about his ghost powers. It's not like he really needed them.

That came to head when he returned to Gotham on a whim, wanting to surprise Bruce for his birthday by taking the other man out to dinner somewhere fancy he happened to stumble across the scene of Scarecrow holding the Waynes- his Waynes- as hostages at an award ceremony in the new mental hospital they had funded.

Danny hadn't thought.

He saw the Fear Gas vents open and pulled one of his gadgets. He threw it as hard as he could at Scarecrow, watching with satisfaction as it bounced off the manic's head- knocking him out and spinning in place as it activated.

It was a miniature vacuum- meant to gather pollution in the air to hopefully clean up their planet- sucking in all the green smoke before it could harm.

He three out of the other five at the goons that had tried to gas the spectators before, pressing his anti-gravity plates- reversing them to slam the goons into a heap and officially knocking them out.

Danny took down the Rouge in under a minute.

"Bruce! Kids! Are you alright?" He cried rushing the stage to the stunned family. He helped them out of their bonds, gentelly tracing the bruise on Bruce's face with a soft whine. "They hurt you."

"I'm alright, darling," Bruce muttered, leaning into his palm. "I'm better with you here. What was that?"

"Oh just a-"

"Look out!" Dick suddenly screams as a flash of ice comes from nowhere. Danny tucks Bruce onto his chest and rolls away from the ray's pathway. They land with his friend on his back and Danny leaning over him in a protective hunch.

Quickly, he stops his foot against the ice, pressing the heel back and watching bursts of electricity from his built-in tazer race up the ice to the beam of Dr. Freeze.

The man doesn't have time to react before spamming and hitting the ground. Danny scoffs. "Using a ray with a cryogenic laser beam so last season. Invent something new, you one act poney."

Bruce stares up at him with those soft eyes again, and Danny smiles now that he is sure the Danger is gone.

"Is there nothing that mind of yours can't do?" Bruce asks and Danny laughs helping him to his feet as police swarm the place.

"Find me a date, maybe." Danny jokes, "I haven't had one since you took in Dick.""

"Neither has Father!" Damian shouts from behind them. Danny bemussingly watches the young boy march up to gesture at the mortified-looking man.

Despite his father's obvious embarrassment, Damian does not seem bothered to shout for everyone to hear. "He may swing both ways but hasn't acquired a suitable spouse. What says you, Danny? You could assist in correcting this error."

"Sure, I'll take him out." Danny laughs, patting the boy on his shoulder, knowing he hates to have his hair touched. Damian all but melts into his hand like his father seemingly smug. "I know a great club to meet some great people in Metropolis!"

Damian's smug look fades away as Bruce's eyes fall. "I meant for you to be Father's sp-"

"Danny, would you mind explaining those tazer shoes?" Bruce cuts in, throwing a arm over the inventor's shoulder. "They were dazzling!"

"Oh, Bruce, I'm always happy to explain my creations!"

Damian pouts as the two walk away, acting like a married couple to the scattered spectators. If only his Father would just man up and tell Danny that he's practically been his second Father all these years, they need to officiate it.

Tim sighs, placing a hand like Danny did on his shoulder. "It's okay, Dami. This time, we will surely succeed in the Parent Trap plan. Maybe before Danny gets lost in the lab trying to invent a way to warp travel."

"Don't even joke, Tim," Jason says. "Danny would figure that out. He created the Zeta Beams to make it to my senior play. He'll figure out warping if we ask him to."

"Dad's the best," Steph laughs, and they all agree, determined more than ever to make Parent Trap happen.

Master Post Link

[violetarks]

fooled around and fell in love!

anime: ouran high school host club

characters: fujioka haruhi, suoh tamaki, ootori kyoya

summary: you have enough charm to make even a host fall for you! why haven't you joined the club yet?

a/n: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, second person pov, reader isn't necessarily in love with them, they're just unintentionally getting the others to fall for them, but it can be read however you would like

↣ fujioka haruhi:

being the little plaything for the host club was not fun at all for haruhi. she would literally rather do anything else than this.

carrying four bags of food for the hosts, haruhi groans in frustration, "stupid rich people... why do they have to drink so many different brands of coffee?" she reaches into one bag, pulling out an order for hikaru. "he doesn't even like the ingredients in this. he just wanted me to say that long order for no reason..."

people watched the student struggle down the hall towards the host club room. haruhi felt a bit annoyed; didn't rich people have maids or something to do these things? a turn around the corner makes her stop on her tracks, nearly dropping the bags onto the floor.

a hand is held out to catch her elbow, steadying her feet. "sorry, i didn't see you." she apologises, holding the bags even tighter.

"it's okay." you retort, sliding your book bag onto your shoulder. you blink at her, noticing who she was. "oh, haruhi. good morning. you seem pretty busy already."

"good morning, y/n." she replies, nodding her head at you, "yeah, the host club needed a refill on a couple things."

"do you... need help?" you ask, tilting your head at her.

"oh no, it's okay." she spoke, shaking her head with a nervous smile, "i'm nearly there, and club activities are going to start soon."

you shrugged your shoulders, taking some of the bags from her hold. "it's okay, my meeting's been cancelled. i can help." you explain, giving haruhi a smile, "i don't mind spending a little more time getting to know you."

she held her breath for a moment as you led her to the music room that the host club occupied. you were well-known around the school yourself, not as much as the infamous tamaki but still. you shared world history class together and sat in front of her. she knew the sound of your voice by the end of the first month here at ouran academy, and it was no wonder why many of your classmates would seek your help for work. haruhi was good at reading people, so she could tell that you yourself didn't have any bad intentions.

you two became friends quite easily, and you had visited her a few times at the host club. you acted as a cool escape from the strange world of the rich that haruhi had to get used to. you spoke to her as if she was always a friend of yours, sweet and kind. she thought that, if you had tried to, you could knock even tamaki off of his pedestal.

"i heard from hikaru that your theme for this week is the opposite of a 'maid cafe'." your voice cuts through her thoughts, and she drags her eyes to meet with yours. heat rushes to her cheeks at the idea that kyoya had brought up to make a rise in sales. you chuckle at her reaction. "well, i'll have to make sure to stop by to see you."

haruhi rolls her eyes, looking out the window to her left. "please spare me the humiliation, y/n." she huffed out, frown tugging on her lips.

you only grin wider. "c'mon, haruhi, you know that’s the only reason i show up." you say, leaning forward to get a look at her face. she was burning even brighter, and it didn't help that when she glanced back at you, you were staring at her with that welcoming and heart-warming grin you always had for her. "should i switch to always visiting the twins, then?"

haruhi gives you a deadpan look, which makes you laugh. she knows you wouldn't, you literally only asked for her. but she couldn't help the feeling she experienced when you would say her name or look at her like that.

at the host club, you help drop off the bags as kyoya checks everything on his clipboard. at the bell, haruhi escorts you to the door.

"thank you again, y/n, for your help. i'll repay you." she says, knowing full well that all her payments were going to the host club for her initial incident.

you ruffle her hair a little with a smile. "no problem, haruhi. i'll always be here to lend a hand." you say, walking down the hall with your 'goodbye'.

haruhi spares you a wave, closing the door after seeing you turn the corner. when she looks back to her clubroom, she notices kyoya standing a few feet away, back against the wall. "oh, kyoya-senpai. i forgot you—”

“taking a liking to l/n, have we?” he taunts, clipboard under his arm. his glasses gleam with mischief and haruhi gulps. picking it up from the table, he hands her the costume for the day. “is that why they’ve become a regular now?”

she rolls her eyes and grabs it from him. “believe what you want, i’m not doing this out of pleasure.” she admits, hurrying to the change rooms. she passes the other hosts, all standing in the doorway and watching the two interact. haruhi stops on her tracks yet again, furrowing her brows. “what now?”

“what’s this? have haruhi and y/n finally begun dating?” the twins chime, wrapping their arms around haruhi as she begins to heat up, “the love story of the century, two pining young students unable to keep their affections a secret.”

kaoru glances to tamaki, who is fixing up his tie. “what do you say, boss? should we invite y/n to join the host club?” he suggests.

honey jumps up, holding his toy up in the air. “they would be so cute together, right taka-chan?” mori simply nods his head, looking indifferent.

“hmm. perhaps a new addition would spark some rivalry between haruhi and y/n.” tamaki concludes, “many of our guests would love to see the lovers battle to be the best! yes, that is a splendid idea! haruhi—”

turning around, he sees haruhi exit the change rooms in her butler outfit. she huffs back, shaking her head, “i am not inviting y/n to join the host club, you idiots.”

she walks passed them, ignoring the banter they were spouting and the arguments they had for you joining the club. in the end, it was a definite no.

she didn’t know what it was. maybe she just really wanted you to herself.

↣ suoh tamaki:

tamaki, like always, was surrounded by the girls of ouran academy.

if there were any sign that today was just going to be another day, it would be that. the sounds of screams and dreamy sighs, the voice of tamaki swooning them all, and the trail of hearts left behind. another day here at school for you.

but, like always, the club members would make fun of him for his eccentric ideas and whatnot. as they leave to go to class, tamaki stands in the music room with a disappointed look on his face. whenever he would put a frown on his face, the customers would come rushing in! hold his face, cling to his side! why must his friends be so disheartening?

when the door opens to the music room, he expects it to be kyoya to drag him back, and he throws on his frown again. "oh, kyoya! i'm so sad!"

"why is that, tamaki?" you ask, closing the door with your sheet music under your arm and your violin in hand. he blinks at you, obviously not expecting anyone other than the club members. "my apologies, i walked into the wrong room. why are you here by yourself?"

to play it off (although he has never seen you attend any club activities, only ever seeing you in his literature class) he stands up, cheeks burning with embarrassment. he chuckles out, arms thrown to his sides, "o-oh! don't mind me, i'm just a bit down. i didn't expect such a kind student to make themselves known at such a time! how are you on this fine day, mx l/n?"

when you tilt your head, walking closer to his spot at the couch. "a sweet boy like you should never be left alone to sulk." you state, sitting down across from him. he widens his eyes, gulping. "where are your friends?"

"uh... they are in, um, class!" he says as the end-of-the-day bell rings. you only smile. tamaki sighs, dropping his whole get-up and looking to his hands, leaning back against the softness of the couch, "i suppose they left me here while they went home."

"you don't want to go home yet?" you question. he shakes his head. you only exhale, placing your sheet music on the table and your violin next to you. "well, if that is the case, then i'd be happy to keep you company, my lovely."

he widens his eyes as he looks to you. a faint blush paints his cheeks. "you... would?" you nod your head twice. he then smiles. "truthfully, i have no business being here right now. kyoya had called off our club meeting because of exams coming up and the twins failing some classes. and if they fail, they can't be in the club."

"is that so?" you say, making conversation, "well, i suppose you can spend your time with me."

"do you not have a lesson to get to?" tamaki asks, concerned as he glances to your sheet music, "i wouldn't want to keep you—"

"would you like to come to my practice, then?" you offer, smiling softly that it makes him hold his breath for a moment. you were so charming, in such a different way than he was. it was enticing. "i'm sure you wouldn't distract me. not on purpose, that is."

your little joke at the end makes him nervously laugh. "oh, i... i wouldn't want to bother."

"you're not bothering me, tamaki." you honestly say. he unconsciously leans towards you, eager to get closer. you stay where you are, smiling at his actions. "and it seems you just can't resist me."

he catches himself falling. he almost can't believe it, but he then fixes himself and his posture, standing up straight. "r—right, well, i... you...!"

you chuckle, standing up and taking his arm linked in yours, "alright, prince, let's go."

he gasps as you guide him to your practice room, so confident through the halls. he's scared someone will see him in such a flustered state and his cool prince facade will fade. but luckily enough, you navigate your way easily and shut the door behind you.

except, it doesn't take you to the music room. no, in fact, you and tamaki end up on one of the balconies that overlook the quieter side of school — opposite side from the host club.

"i practice here during our breaks and study sessions." you admit, placing a music stand and clipping your sheet music to it. unlatching you violin, you glance to tamaki. "away from all your fangirls, that is."

he raises a brow, catching himself finding his confidence again, "jealous, perhaps?"

"what do you think?" you say, tuning your instrument.

tamaki blinks, staring at the ground as he sits at the bench in front of you. he states, "there is no possible way you could've gotten the wrong room, you know."

you raise your brows, looking back at him. a slow smile creeps onto your lips. "your club passed me in the hallway before i saw you." you admit, waxing your bow, "i just wanted to make sure ouran's pride and joy was okay."

his heart swells at your words. he doesn't know why, but all of a sudden birds sings for you, flowers bloom in your presence the breeze smells sweeter.

"thank you..." he hums, smiling at you sweetly, "may i hear something?"

you lift your bow, nodding your head, "yes, your highness."

his heart explodes at the first note.

↣ ootori kyoya:

if there was one thing kyoya was good at, it was analysing people's strengths and weaknesses. the smart one, glasses-wearing, everything. he was it.

but one thing he couldn't understand was why you were so popular.

you were a part of the school student committee, and as a part of your duties, you hd to do monthly check-ups on clubs to see if they were still eligible to continue. while the host club never failed, you would still drop by without a doubt.

today was one of those days.

kyoya could tell you were near by the increase in whispers and gasps around the hallway. once heard, he excused himself and walked off to grab the folder that held the statistics for their monthly report.

as if on cue, you enter, herd of admirers behind you.

"ah, good evening, mx l/n." he says, offering a bow, "to what do i owe the pleasure?"

"it's good to see you too, ootori." you chime, bowing yourself, "is your report ready for this month? it is the 31st after all."

kyoya can almost hear the agonising tone in your voice, hidden by your politeness. but he doesn't waver, holding out the folder. "indeed. like always, we are right on time." he tells you.

you take it from him, opening it up and falting. kyoya raises a brow. "is something the matter, l/n?" he questions.

you look up at him with the faintest smile. "perhaps you're pulling my leg here, ootori. this appears to be last month's report." you chime, pinpointing his mistakes at its core.

he takes the folder from you and reviews the dates. you were correct, this was last month's report. he scans the room until he locks eyes with the twins, who shrug their shoulders innocently and walk off.

"i... apologise. it seems the twins have taken it into their own hands to file the report for this month." he sighs, fixing his glasses, "if you'll follow me, i will find it for you."

you agree, smiling as those you pass before you enter the side room with kyoya in front of you.

as the doors shut, you click your tongue, "oh kyoya, those two run circles around you, don't they?"

the host rolls his eyes, taking out the box of reports from the cabinet and setting them on the desk. he does miss how his name sounds on your lips. so soft.

"they are a pain, but we make do." he huffs, "must your enterage always follow you when you come see us?"

"oh it's not just when i come here." you state, hand on your hip, "it's everywhere."

you were so smug it made him scowl. he opens the box and notices that they are all out of order. he groans, "we have to look through every individual file, i'm afraid."

"luckily this is my last club for tonight." you sigh, taking out a couple folders, "i can help you organise these."

"but wouldn't your fanclub miss you too much, y/n?" kyoya speaks, doing the same thing and looking through them.

"you're one to talk." you chuckle.

"i truly don't understand how you manage to gather so many followers. you're merely treasurer." he complains, shrugging his shoulders, "do you like being followed around like that?"

you roll your eyes at his dramatic personality. you and kyoya had been friends for ages now, and it seems the popularity you acquire puts a strain on your relationship.

"i don't mind being followed, but i do like all of my friends." you state, flipping through pages, "i speak to all of them regularly."

"so they talk to you and you enjoy it?" he questions, raising a brow at you. the thought irked him. why did you speak to so many people? he could call bullshit. but you shrug your shoulders.

"everybody wants to be liked by the person they have a crush on." you say, knowing tone. every one of your "friends" have or have had a crush on you, which is why they speak to you in the first place. "it just so happens that i like making friends."

"that's preposterous." he huffs back, "i don't understand the severity. i don't feel the need to be liked by you."

"that's because i already like you, kyoya. we were friends since forever, after all." you state, putting one report into the correct folder as you glance at him working, "do you not feel the same?"

"frankly, it doesn't matter to me." kyoya says, ignoring how his chest felt at what you said. it was reassuring to know you still liked him.

"what, are you saying that you don't like me, kyoya?" you say, overdramatic voice on. you move closer to kyoya, tilting your head and jutting our your lip. he swallows his nerves "even after everything we've been through? i'm hurt."

"quiet." he grunts, pushing you away as you laugh. his face grows warmer. "just... find that report and get out of here. it's almost time for club activities to end."

you stare at him for a moment, watching red grow on his cheeks in frustration. your friend has always been this way, even though he acts more familiar with you in private, his embarrassed look never changes. you just see it more than anyone else. that's just how you were.

"okay, kyo." you chuckle, moving to the other side of the table and continuing your work.

kyoya sighs to himself, fixing his glasses and calming himself down. how could you be so... charming? and effortlessly so? is this why everyone fawned over you in a similar way to how they fawn over tamaki?

a few more minutes pass before you've found the file and managed to organise the rest of them. kyoya breathes in relief, putting the box away and silently cursing the twins out.

"thank you, kyoya." you hum out, tucking the folder under your arm, "i'll let you know what we come to."

he puts his hand on the door and before he opens it, he turns to you. "you're welcome. please do. it's the only time we ever... see you." he admits, seeing your raised brows.

your smile drops for a second before you sigh, patting his back, "i'll be sure to come and visit more often then. just for you."

when he opens the door, tamaki is trying to swoon your crowd to leave. he cheers and waves his hands, but to no avail. when they see you, they follow after.

"i apologise for extending my stay, suoh." you say, nodding at him as you stand in the exit, your crowd behind you, "i'll see you all soon."

with a wave of your hand, you leave, smiling at kyoya one last time. the twins turn to him immediately.

"so, how was your date with y/n?" they chime, leaning on his shoulders.

"it wasn't a date, you morons. you do realise how much trouble you caused." he says, a sly smile on his face, "seems like a punishment is in order."

the twins dash out of the room before he can say another word, the other members talking quietly amongst themselves about you.

but kyoya only looks down at his clipboard, once again counting the days til you come again for your monthly report.

[corollaservant]

Retail Therapy // Dabi x f!reader x Shigaraki (18+)

Synopsis: Working as a sales assistant in a high end sneaker shop is boring. But you're about to be taught otherwise.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon (idk about this one), degradation, humiliation, illegal recording, mentions of crimes, ableist remarks (not from reader), harassment, dumbification

A/N: kinda thought of the LoV as streamers (but not like gamers). thx anon in spam blog for encouraging this dumb idea, idk what this says about us:)

Another boring day at work. But honestly, what were you expecting? 

You didn’t know anyone who had fun working in retail. Not that this would be your job forever, as you planned on quitting and you know... try something else. Dropping out of college may have not been a smart move but you were confident that you’d find your path, somewhere, sometime. The store was never busy, the pricing and interior design repelling most passers-by and only attracting a couple influencer kids (you often laughed at the term) and their rich parents or a few unknown athletes in an effort to buy designer and make a better name for themselves. High end clients never showed up in person, they had no reason to, no one shopped at boutiques anymore—all the more sneaker ones. 

You would often kill time by watching stuff online (who didn’t), looking at the latest socialite news in various media outlets, the world was going downhill, you thought, as you absentmindedly sipped from your water bottle. Articles wrote about villains, social pariahs, as they’d branded them, parading power by killing innocent civilians ‘for the fun of it’. 

Two shadows at the door caused you to look up. Customers? No way. Your heart stopped for a second as both walked through the door. Was this some kind of a twisted game of fate? Who didn’t fucking know them, Dabi and his subordinate, the man he had on a leash, even though he was the supposed boss, Shigaraki Tomura. What the fuck where they doing here? 

The taller man, which you knew as Dabi, wore a dark blue jacket with the collars ripped while his patched purple skin stood out. Surgically attached staples (or where these piercings?) moved when he smiled. Despite the menacing appearance, you had to admit he looked quite... elegant? His shorter companion didn't fail to catch your eye either, a hood pulled low over his face and wearing a miserably plain outfit. Under other circumstances, you’d throw guys like them out the store—this wasn’t some charity but you quickly reconsidered, once you remembered their recent streaming. Shigaraki filmed Dabi burning up a whole forest just to kill some time as they laughed. Cool, yeah. Problem was they had accidentally murdered some poor people on a picnic, who they’d later find and film, joking about how ‘today was not the day for a picnic, guys’. The two villains would livestream the whole thing on various platforms, other times they’d upload it later on a channel, where perverse comments encouraged and gave them both views. They obviously had a clear immoral viewpoint on heroes (they despised the filth society had created on false pretense) and never failed to shout it even louder. 

‘’Hello, sweetheart.’’ Dabi greeted you, approaching the register. His loyal dog followed close, hands in his pockets and a sly smile. 

‘’Me and my...friend would like to check out a few shoes today, we’re feeling generous.’’ The friend didn't sound very friendly.

You regained composure and whispered a ‘’y-yes, sure!’’ as they looked at you. Dabi's eyes diverted to your work uniform, a blazer with exposed bust and a tight pencil skirt (yeah yeah, you knew this was a high end sneaker store but rules were rules and you had to attract the filthy rich somehow...manager's words, not yours)

‘’W-what would you guys like to see?’’ You stammered, their proximity not helping. 

‘’Sweetie got a speech impediment?’’ Shigaraki asked no one in particular before Dabi interrupted.

‘’Don’t listen to this asshole, he isn’t getting any so he’s always pissed off.’’ The first scowled but remained silent. 

Dabi seemed... kind? You thought as you looked at him and shyly moved to the display shelves. 

‘’S–so, could you guys tell me what you’re looking for exactly?’’ You couldn’t believe these two had to come to your place for fucking shoes—somehow the thought of villains having to buy clothes had never really crossed your mind. 

‘’We don’t fucking care, sweetheart.’’ Dabi said looking directly at your chest, eyeing your tits. Such a pervert, thinking you wouldn’t notice. 

The whole time Shigaraki was on his phone, which he held in a bizzare way, it was known his quirk involved his hands but you never bothered to care, both these guys were murderous and you possessed no ‘quirk’ whatsoever so it really wouldn’t matter if it came down to physical altercations. 

‘’We have t–these ones..’’ You lifted your arm up to show Dabi a new pair you got in last week as his eyes travelled to your bent ass, skirt accentuating the curves even more, as he smirked to himself. 

‘’T–they collaborated two brands for this.’’ You murmured, not sure he heard you. His presence made you anxious, you knew what he was capable of and definitely wanted to live another day. 

‘’Oh yeah?’’ Dabi said. ‘’How much do these cost? They’re fucking ugly.’’

You opened your mouth to retort but settled with a ‘’T–two grand.’’ It came off unsure and hesitant. 

‘’These are dead. Two grand for these abominations? Hey Shiggy, come look!’’ He told the man who had been too consumed with his phone to listen to the conversation.

‘’Look at that shit man, can you believe trash heroes buy that for two grand?’’ He questioned as the latter lifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah I really don’t give a fuck, buy your shit and go, I have content to upload.’’

‘’Please excuse him, baby, he’s just a weirdo who gets off on livestreaming the people he decays, don’t worry we won’t take long.’’ 

Decaying? Livestreams? And why did he call you baby? These guys had to be joking, they were openly talking about murdering people for fun and you suddenly felt sick, your stomach with its contents turned over.

You had been silent, looking at them in horror, while Dabi broke the silence.

‘’Awwh, c’mon now, I’ll be nice. I think I might like these.’’ He said and pointed to a pair of black plain sneakers, they’d suit him, you thought despite the predicament.

You must’ve not reacted at all so he spoke again.

‘’Are you slow, sweetheart? I said I want to try these on, in 15.’’ The tone made you immediately snap out of your thoughts and take a step back—he felt too close through your peripherals. 

‘’L–let me check in the b-back for you guys..’’ You apologized, you couldn’t even turn around but somehow got to the storage room. Fuck, of course he had to be wearing one of the largest freaking sizes, your store never brought these as no one ever bought them, what was he, a fucking giant? You were frantically searching through storage drawers and anything scattered you could find across the room but without success, the pair was sold out (was a basic choice) and the sizing available was 13 and below. Shit, you cursed, as you were about to exit, when you saw two figures at the door startling you. 

‘’What’s taking you so long? Lost in the hallway?’’ Dabi mocks, as Shigaraki snorts. 

‘’I- I– couldn’t f-find the ones you’re looking for.’’ You avert your eyes and Dabi’s smirk wavers.

‘’What does that mean, baby?’’ He furrows his brows. ‘’You should be grateful I even chose this shitty store in the first place. It’s not enough you charge poor customers two grand for shoes I can find in the dumpster, now you’re telling me you don’t have the one pair I actually liked?’’ He raises his tone as he has you practically pinned against the door. You could’ve sworn the other guy's laughing but the room’s spinning and you try to take a deep breath. 

‘’I- i’m sorry, guys, p-please let me try to find s-something else- for you, I–’’

‘’No, I think you can just shut the fuck up now. I don’t want excuses from that pretty mouth of yours.’’ His words hurt as you try blinking your tears away—it used to help but not when they’re flooding your eyes like a stream anyway. You feel like this could actually be your end and matter of fact, anyone would know soon enough, as you’d probably also get livestreamed while they’re at it.

‘’Soo.. let me get this straight, you can’t find a proper excuse, you don’t have my shoes, you make me and Tomura wait while you're blabbering some bullshit and you scam stupid cunts for money. Does your boss know he’s hired the dumbest whore on the planet or do you fuck him to keep your job? And for a shitty job like this? You reaally gotta be desperate.’’ He finishes and now the tears are well formed and fall from your eyes, as you sob—you literally sob, ashamed and hurt, these men didn't even know you and here they were throwing words around because of a pair of fucking shoes, you feel useless and embarrassed, as you choke out some ‘I'm sorry’s.

None of them seem to care about your tears or your stuffed nose, snots falling down your chest and staining the work blazer and Dabi continues in an amused tone.

‘’Stop crying, it's pathetic. Be of use instead, will you?’’ He sighs and looks at Shigaraki, who had been watching his phone intently the whole time.

‘’Tomura, how do you think bitches like her pay when they can’t satisfy my needs?’’ He asks the man, who contemplates for a second, kind of clueless and annoyed, interrupted from the live streaming of the rest of the LoV. 

‘’Ugh.. I don't know, kill her? Listen man, we don’t have much time, we have to go meet the rest, so whatever it is, make it quick. I want to show my face in Toga’s stream, she has too many hot bitches watching.’’

This man is out of his mind.

‘’Shiggy, you fucking incel, it’s not like you’re going to fuck any of them, so how about you put your scrambled, decayed brain to good use?’’ Dabi responds, all while you’re looking at the exchange horrified, where is this going?

‘’Well...since apparently I’m the smart one here, I’ll tell you both how this is gonna end up.’’ Dabi exhales, he sounds bored but his eyes gleam, he seems amused. ‘’You can’t offer me my shoes? You offer me your body, it’s not like you have anything else going on for you. I fuck you and your little cunt and you–’’ he turns his attention to Shigaraki, ‘’–you’re going to film the whole fucking thing. Should grant you enough pussy, once I let you participate.’’

-

You want to scream, you really do. But there’s no words coming out, the phone’s too far away, the storage room's hidden in plain sight and there’s two guys ganging up on you so what’s the only thing you do? Beg.

‘’P-please, Dabi, I can—I can help you find something else, we have-’’ You blabber but he cuts you off.

‘’Wow doll, surprised your dumb brain memorized the name. But I don’t blame you, I would too.’’ He’s inching closer to you, as you back off, each step he takes leads you towards the end of the room. The closet touches your back—you’re pinned under him, the shelves hit against your back.

‘’Got the camera on?’’ He tells Shigaraki, without turning to look at him, while the latter scoffs.

‘’Yeah, all set.’’ You can see him holding his phone and wait impatiently.

‘’Now..’’ Dabi says, ‘’take that nasty shirt off, God, who dresses whores like you up? Tits out and everything for the public to see.’’ He says as your shaking hands start unbuttoning the work blazer; you had no shirt under it, it was a hot day and you hadn’t bothered, it’s not like customers were frequent. 

He’s so close that your arms touch his shirt as you slowly unbutton it and the blazer falls down your shoulders, your bare tits in full display not just for him but for Shigaraki’s camera to film as well. His eyes rake you up and down, your cheeks stained with tears, your hair disheveled with strands that stick out in opposite directions as your tits quiver on your chest. It’s swift, but you notice how his turquoise eyes widen—not a lot, since they’re heavy lidded and half patched anyway.

‘’Fuck, these look nice..’’ He comments as he brings up both hands to grope them while you gasp. His hands are not as cold as you expected, they’re large, slender and painted black as he starts circling his wrists while still at a fair distance. You moan and he smirks, Shigaraki switching spots to get a better angle. 

Dabi closes the distance as his face is on yours, his breath on your mouth and you close your eyes when he laughs.

‘’Aw, did you think I’d kiss you?’’ He says as you whimper frustrated but he continues ‘’Whores like you don’t deserve kisses.’’ He grabs your skirt with both hands and aggressively lowers it as you stumble trying not to fall down.

His words cut deep and you fight the urge to let another stream of tears down your face; you’d been called names in the past, but the way he talked upset you way more than anyone before. Unbeknownst to him, your felt your panties smeared, his warm hands had turned you on—the thought of you being like this disgusted you. You really were pathetic and he’d soon find out.

His hands cupped your clothed cunt as you moaned ‘’D-dabi, please–’’ to which a voice from the back laughed. You had completely forgotten about Shigaraki, the fact that he was watching (and filming) making you want to vomit.

‘’Baby, please shut the fuck up.’’ Dabi says ‘’Tomura, are you getting this?’’ But at this point Tomura was not only getting it but holding the phone with one hand while the other rubbed a bulge on his pants.

Dabi moves your panties to the side, almost ripping them apart and pushes two fingers without warning in your cunt as you choke on a moan. His fingers feel good, too full in a way and he knows how to move them inside, working his way deeper, while they’re already long.

‘’Man, you’re not gonna believe how wet she is.’’ He tells Tomura, who hums and strokes his clothed cock, phone still in his hand. 

You’re being moved up and down the shelves, his fingers penetrate your cunt with force as you feel the pressure in your core build up, you think about fucking yourself on his fingers, grinding up and down—maybe cum and have them gone?, but he brings his other hand to your neck and chokes you with precision, blocking your airway immediately: ‘’Don’t think you get to decide when to cum.’’ He says and he removes his stained hands, your arousal is brought to your face as he turns around and proudly shows the camera. 

‘’Look at this retail cockwhore guys, pussy dripping from two men she couldn’t sell shoes to!’’ He brags and you crumble, embarrassed and desperate for an end.

‘’D-dabi, p–please don’t say that!’’ You mewl and he looks down at you with pity.

‘Say what? The fucking truth? Aren’t you a little cumslut, yes or no?’’

‘’I– I–am n-not—’’

‘’I said, are you or aren’t you my little cumslut, yes - or - no?’’ He orders as you notice something small and blue igniting from his fingertips and you freeze.

‘’Say it.’’

‘’I- i am.’’ You brokenly murmur, but he needs all the words. 

‘’You’re what?’’ 

‘’Y–your cumslut..’’

‘’I need the name too, camera's on you know’’. His patience wears thin, you can tell by his tone.

‘’I-i-am--Dabi’s cumslut.’’ You look at the camera and with that he finally snaps, turning you over and grabbing you by the waist, his fingers touch your bare back, as he spanks a heated palm on you and you flinch.

‘’Good, now let’s show everyone how cumsluts like you get fucked.’’ He unzips his pants and brings his cock in between your folds. 

The sensation is intoxicating, your heat and his pre in between you while your hands are stretched to touch a shelf you can’t reach. You don't even know what you're up against, fuck, you hadn't even seen—

‘’Make sure you’re getting this.’’ is all Dabi says before abruptly pushing his cock inside you as you let out a sharp cry, he’s too big and you can’t take him at once, a pain shoots up your belly as he starts thrusting at a steady pace. 

‘’P-please ‘s too much, s-slow d-down!’’ You yell behind you but he doesn’t seem to care, as he grabs your hips harshly and pushes himself deeper, your cunt stretching to accommodate whatever it can and you thank his fingers for the prior mess they made.

‘’Fuuck, feels too good.’’ He groans as he thrusts into you. You hear a sudden whimper and look around to see Shigaraki with his cock out, moving his fist up and down his length—eyes fixated on the spectacle. 

You don’t have time to beg him to stop filming because Dabi’s slender hands are toying with your clit, his cock rips apart your insides as pads of his fingers find the bundle of nerves with ease. He teases it—not harshly, as his cock does that for you, but in light strokes, like he’s trying to tickle you and you feel yourself tremble, your cunt twitches and he feels it too apparently, because he groans ‘’Shit, you’re tight, too? Who would’ve expected it, huh..’’ as Shigaraki is starting his commentary on camera.

‘’Take a look guys, this is probably the biggest cockwhore we’ve seen... look closer! getting her loose cunt all fucked like that.’’ Dabi huffs, skin slapping sounds reverberate across the storage, as he continues his pace, cock disappearing in between your folds.

‘’Man, shut the fuck up.’’ He tells the guy behind him, ‘’her pussy’s tight as shit..or maybe I just have a big cock.’’ You can tell he smirks and you moan, it's like he's harsher now, his cruel words while they shouldn't, are bringing you closer and you can’t deny the pleasure he’s giving you, each time he belittles you or Shigaraki for the matter.

You can't even see him, but you imagine him drinking in your pathetic state: desperate, arched back, lifted skirt and abused flesh—frustrated whines and miserable attempts to sink down his cock, even when you know damn well he’s the one setting the pace.

‘’Hey, Shiggy..’’ Dabi groans, ‘’want me to let the whore fuck herself on my cock? She seems soo eager.’’ He tells Tomura, who at this point is solely focused on your ass sinking on Dabi ahead.

‘’S-sure..’’ He breathes out, too horny to care. 

Dabi stops moving, cock hard and still inside you, stretching you out regardless, as you pant frustrated. You’d been so close and he stopped once again. Fuck it, you think, you need to get your release somehow. 

You take a deep breath and start tantalizing him, cock throbs in your walls while you move and grind your hips back and forth. Dabi hisses, his hands dig in your ass, a pain from a metal on your hips—you’d definitely have marks tomorrow but it feels too good and he lets you, which surprises you.

‘’D-dabi, is she good?’’ A voice calls from behind but Dabi doesn’t answer, he just lets you do your work as you increase your pace, your legs are about to fail you but you raise yourself up and grip whatever you can find in front of you; you can hardly breathe. You think you might make yourself cum and he must be on the verge too, because he grabs you by the hair and spears his cock so deep, you want to scream—but you can't because there's not enough air in your lungs to function. ‘’Enough.’’ He spits and starts drilling himself back at his own relentless pace.

You feel numb but a known sensation spirals under you, fuck, he feels good and you suddenly wish for his hands on your clit so you beg. Again. 

‘’D-dabi, please, agh t–touch me..there.’’ 

‘’Beggars can’t be choosers, baby.’’ He smirks and picks up the pace, if that's even possible, the motion perfect for your pussy to squeeze him in tighter and while he acts all tough, a hand is back on your clit. He wants you to come undone, wants to be the one bringing you to such despair. 

‘’D-dabi!, I-I'm-hmn.. g-gonna–’’

Hairs stick to your sweaty forehead, veins pop out your hands as you cum feeling a faint knot snap, you blabber a bunch of incoherent words and tremble, shutting your eyes in shame.

He’d been waiting for this, holding himself back but he wanted your mess, your pathetic orgasm so he can let himself go with a couple final thrusts. He groans, praising your ‘’good cunt– baby..’’ before shooting his load inside—shit, he came inside, you think, this is so wrong but the sensation is tingling, almost satisfying in a twisted way.

A voice interrupts the moment when both of you turn to look at Shigaraki, cock in between a fist and a frown on his face, he seems upset.

‘’Dabi, you idiot, I wanted her too.’’ He says and Dabi looks at you, fucked out and cum oozing from your hole. His cum. 

‘’Well,’’ Dabi looks at you, ‘’would my favorite cumslut help a friend in need?’’ he smirks, ‘’Just some head, we don’t have all the time in the world, alright?’’ He smiles as you lower your gaze—fuck fuck fuck, wasn't one enough? What's the point of arguing though, one look at both of them convinces you otherwise.

‘’C-could I please have some water?’’ You try to stall, throat dry and raspy from the sounds made earlier. 

‘’Water?’’ Dabi laughs, ‘’nah...it’s too far away. Here, have this instead.’’ He says as he approaches you and swiftly moves his hands up your cunt, gathering his load and your juices and bringing the mix to your mouth. ‘’Open up.’’ He orders and your eyes widen before you realize he sticks his fingers in your mouth, coating your tongue and continues ‘’now, you can suck the incel off.’’

Your mouth isn't dry anymore—it's disgustingly covered in his salty cum but Shigaraki's too impatient to retort and already has his cock poking at your opening. He’s smaller but has nonetheless notable girth. 

‘’Mhm..not gonna last, man.’’ He warns but Dabi seriously doesn't care. Indeed, once you're forced to take Tomura in your mouth under Dabi's glare and bob your head up and down a couple times, he pants and whines, cock jerks in your mouth, as a palm with the pinky lifted rests on your head pushing it down his groin. You gag as he stretches your mouth full, the flushed tip scratches down your throat, but soon enough he comes; you can tell by the way he frantically bucks his hips up, so you remove your mouth in tears, when he loses control, this feels horrible. His cum spurts all over the place, some lands on your hair and some on his shirt. 

‘’Fuck!’’ He groans, ‘’My shirt’s stained, you whore.’’ His voice is whiny as red eyes narrow. For the first time, he manages to inflict terror upon you, his hand’s about to touch you when Dabi interrupts.

‘’Enough, she’ll give you another one, I’m sure shitty store sells some lame shirts somewhere.’’

Tomura sighs and removes his shirt. He throws it to your face and hisses.

‘’Gross, you can keep it, cumslut’’. You feel tainted and humiliated, some fresh tears wipe semen off your face, when Dabi speaks up.

‘’Tomura–’’ There's still hope in your eyes, as you turn to him.

‘’She's about to put in on Depop, you know.’’

Dabi and Tomura smirk and you wordlessly get up, something plummets inside (your heart?), as you wipe tears inside your elbow, the only clean body part of yours.

-

It’s been hours since the shift ended and they left the store, blowing you a kiss but you’re curled up in bed as you anxiously scratch your knees. You feel dirty. Empty. You remember Dabi’s hands on you, Tomura’s shirt and load in your hair, which was later thoroughly washed to the point clumps fell off, when a message appears on your phone.

It’s a message request and it reads:

How’s my favorite cockwhore doing?

You suddenly feel very nauseous, how did they even find you? Your hands are shaking as you pick up your phone to unlock it, only for a new request from a different account to pop up: 

1 attachment sent.

You take a deep breath as you try to think rationally. Don’t cry. Crying doesn’t erase it. Don’t cry.

This could be worse, you finally convince yourself. This could’ve been livestreamed.

[puppys-tiny-space]

👑Tips for littles on a budget👑

This is some tips for tinies (or carers looking for gifts for kiddos) on a budget! Of course you don't need any gear to be a good regressor but a lot of us like toys etc. and it's okay to want them!

🧸thrift stores, a lot of thrift stores have toys and plushies, sometimes they are a bit broken or dirty but there are lots of tutorials on YouTube for cleaning and restoring plushies and toys🧸

🐾e-books, you can find kids books online as e-books which are often pretty cheap or you can watch tiktoks of people reading those books🐾

🩷diy onesies, a lot of regressors like onesies but the prices are pretty steep, if you can't afford them don't fret! Its super easy and affordable to make one yourself all you need is an old t-shirt and snap buttons plus a way to attach them, just get a big t-shirt, sweatshirt or even hoodie and add 2-4 snap buttons in the crotch, boom you have a super cute and discreet onesie!🩷

🧸diy toys, there are lots of toys you can make yourself either by sewing or crafting and there's lot soft videos on YouTube for it, or get creative🧸

🐾mobile games, I love to play video games when im regressed but game consoles are expensive so free mobile games are a great alternative🐾

🩷dollar store etc, while you shouldn't rely on stores or websites that use cheap labor for everything it's okay to make exceptions every now and then, especially for toys, pacis, sippy cups and similar🩷

🧸pull ups, instead of cute printed diapers get big kid pull-ups in the baby-section or medical diapers from a drugstore, they are less then half the price of a pack of adult diapers from brands like tears etc.🧸

🐾learn to diy, making things yourself is often the most affordable thing to do, not with everything obviously but with a lot of things, learn as much stuff as you can so you can make lots of gear yourself🐾

🩷look for affordable stores, lots of paci stores on Instagram are very affordable and the ones that aren't often have sales so keep an eye out for that, lots of shops also have promoter codes they are happy for you to use, for example with my code 'bunnybab' you get a small discount at pacisbybunnie and cozypacicorner🩷

🧸buy second hand, thrift stores are a great place but if you want little specific stuff looking on vinted, swoop or even insta is a great idea! Lots of people sell gear they no longer connect with🧸

Fun fact of the day: Bluey's pilot was only a minute long and never actually aired

[dilatorywriting]

Valentine's Day Special: Let Them Fight

GN!Reader x Malleus Draconia vs. Azul Ashengrotto vs. Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Who knew that in a world of magic, and mayhem, and outright villainy, that it'd be something as stupid as Valentine's Day that would push these idiots over the edge. Or, Malleus, Azul, and Vil go to war over some chocolates

A/N: This MC/Plot takes place in the Heroes vs Villains universe -- specifically Post-Staff's route, rather than any of our other lovely idiot husbands.

There was always some sort of strange overlap of customs from your world to this one. Halloween seemed to have survived more or less intact (even if it was a bit more, uh, extreme than the subtle evening of giving out treats and dressing as ghosts that you remembered). Winter Holidays were still very much a Thing, even if all other connotations had been stripped from them. Moreover, it was like someone had taken your familiar Earthen calendar and just sort of… mirrored it. Distorted it a bit. Just a lil’ bit more chaos than would have been socially acceptable back home.

So when you made a sly little joke about stocking up on discount chocolates after the Valentine’s Day rush and no one laughed—not even a little chortle, or an irritable eyeroll—you initially thought it was maybe to do with the irrationality of Sam’s Shop ever having a sale to begin with. You had not assumed that, you know, there was no Valentine’s Day at all.

“It’s an important holiday, then? Where you’re from?” Azul mused, busy scribbling endless, chicken scratch, notes in the margins of some form that was probably very important.

“I mean, not really,” you frowned, tossing your Mostro-Branded apron onto its hook. “Maybe. Yes? I don’t really know, actually.”

He hummed and moved to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Well, whatever it is, I’m always looking for new events to host at the Lounge. What exactly is it?”

“It’s a sort of special day for couples. Romance. Lovey-dovey nonsense,” you shrugged, and watched Azul’s finger slip off the slick metal frame of his glasses and nearly take his eye out. You waved off his obvious disgust with a dramatic sigh (I mean, why else would he be so stiff and red?). “Yeah, yeah. I know. It’s ridiculous.”

“I—I never said that!” he spluttered, and then paused to cough into his fist and clear his throat. “It just—I just wasn’t expecting something like that to…”

“Exist?”

He grinned, wry. His cheeks were still a bit too pink. “Precisely.”

“You would have loved my world,” you said. “Very capitalistic. Lots of cash-grab holidays like that.”

Azul laughed.

“I’m sure I would be fond of any place you came from.” He paused, and his expression puckered up a bit miserably—like he really hadn’t intended to express such a sentiment aloud. But he managed to smooth the sharp line of his frown back into that usual, smarmy, smirk of his easily enough. “But either way! Tell me more!” he grinned, reaching forward to grab a stack of blank paper and a fresh pen. “I’d love to hear all about it.”

.

.

The next day you were supposed to help the Drama Club start building some stage scenery for their newest play. It was proper grunt work, which was perhaps the only sort of work you were actually qualified for. And Vil always made sure that there were plenty of disgustingly healthy but still quite tasty snacks available for the help to munch on. The food spread alone would have been worth the trip, but on top of that, Vil had made you promise. Practically a blood oath, binding you and your meager free time to the shitty supply closet in the corner of the Auditorium. And as sour as he could be sometimes, you really could never say no to him when he always looked so heart meltingly fond whenever you did agree to while away the hours at his side. That lovely face and even lovelier smile of his were fucking lethal. A war crime, surely, to use it against someone as plain and susceptible to bribery as you were.

But today you were now an idiot on a mission—an idiot determined to spread the joy of a trashy holiday that really probably shouldn’t exist in the first place, let alone in a world where people worshipped storybook villains as veritable deities. And you’d already bought all the molds, and the trays, and you really didn’t have a lot of spare pocket money to begin with, so letting this investment go to waste would not only be a shame, but a terrible business investment.

“What do you mean you’re not coming,” Vil sneered, glaring down his perfectly straight nose at you.

“I really am sorry,” you said, mostly genuine. “But I have something I need to do this afternoon.”

“You’ve made other plans?” he frowned, something a little too unsettled to fit with his usual regality twisting across his expression.

“I have to get ready for Valentine’s Day,” you explained, and his brow tugged down further. Though that earlier twinge of panic seemed to have vanished at least. You pointedly shook your grocery bag full of goodies. “I’m going to make chocolates for everyone.”

“Chocolates?” Vil echoed, confused.

You nodded. “It’s a tradition back home. You give stuff like candy and flowers to the people you care about. Normally it’s a holiday for couples, or whatever. But. Well…”

The ‘I Am Fully Aware That I’m Single as a Pringle, Please Just Let Me Have This One Thing’ was left unsaid, but it hung in the air around your head like a very persistent storm cloud nonetheless. Vil, magnanimously, seemed perfectly happy to ignore the Woe Is Me implications spewing from your mouth. Instead, he leaned forward until he was dipping precariously close into your personal space. His amethyst eyes had lit with blatant interest at your ramblings, and he hummed low in his throat.

“Is that so?” he mused, gaze lidded and warm. “That sounds… intriguing.”

You nodded past the heady scent of his cologne fogging your head. What was it with attractive people, huh? It was so unfair. You don’t get to look and smell good. Pick a lane. Save some dignity for the rest of us.

“So, I promise I’ll help another day. I just have a feeling making chocolates is going to wind up being a lot harder than I think it will.”

Because that’s how it always went in your stupid slice-of-life shows. The poor, harried, protagonist thinking they’re doing a good deed—painstakingly constructing their own, special, homemade goodies for all their important people. Making them with love. And then having it all blow up in their face like a goddamn, cocoa flavored, nuke. Nope. Not you, motherfucker. Your chocolates were going to be divine. You were going to take every, tropey, precaution in the book. And that of course included allotting yourself ample time to make mistakes your masterpiece.

“Of course,” Vil grinned. “How could I possibly begrudge you for wanting to spend your time on something so heartfelt?”

“Thank you,” you blurted, relived. Because at least he got it. Azul had been so ridiculously insistent that you should prepare all your Valentine’s Day wishes as a team. Which was not the point. He’d spent hours last night trying to wheedle his way into your plans—with endless platitudes about ‘business partners always being there for each other,’ and ‘how would he know if he was celebrating to your standards if he wasn’t given a model to work off of first?’ Utter bullshit. He’d probably just wanted free labor.

“Tomorrow, then?” Vil beamed and you nodded.

“Tomorrow,” you confirmed.

“Well, then,” he hummed. “I better get to work as well. I suppose the scenery can wait.”

You nodded in farewell and began the trek back to Ramshackle and its marginally functional kitchens. You hadn’t realized Vil was taking on any new projects, but if it was enough to have him putting off the Club’s activities as well then it must have been pretty important. Maybe he’d get you tickets to it whenever he finished—whatever it was. If there were tickets? How did any of the things he did actually work? Hell if you knew.

.

.

Making chocolates was, in fact, a laughably easy endeavor. And you found yourself cursing every goddamn Shoujo Bullshit Manga under the sun for leading you to think otherwise. The hardest part of the entire thing was fighting off Grim and his wandering paws.

You made up some basic truffles which were, again, stupidly simple. Just some messily chopped chocolate, cream, and a little splash of vanilla to make it Special. Once those were shaped into messy blobs, you dipped them into some more melted chocolate and bam. That was it. That was literally it. You felt like a genius—sitting there mushing up balls of cocoa like high-end playdough.

By 6PM, you had all your little darlings tucked into the refrigerator to harden, all the gauzy, red, boxes lined up on your counter and ready to be filled, and Grim had been placated with an offering of all your dirty mixing bowls. The tiny, demonic, beast was passed out at the dingy kitchen table—one of said bowls wedged onto his head like an astronaut’s helmet. Hopefully it was just a food coma and not, like, an actual coma-coma. Real cats couldn’t eat chocolate, but Grim never really seemed real at all. So hopefully he’d be fine.

You wiped down your cooking space once, twice. Paced up and down the narrow hallway until you were wearing away the already threadbare rugs, and spent way too long just standing in front of the fridge—staring in on your chocolates like a psychotic kidnapper scoping out their next victims.

Eventually you realized that you maybe needed to do something with your evening that wasn’t just creeping on your confections, and set out into the frosty, night, air for a stroll.

Which is, of course, where you ran into your familiar, horned, friend—staring up into the starry sky in a wistful manner that darkened his pale complexion into something nearly ominous. He always looked a bit like that, like something unearthly and detached from the rest of the world.

“Tsunotarou!” you chirped happily, and that adrift-at-sea expression of his melted right off his face.

“Child of Man,” he greeted, inclining his head politely. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening.” His brow furrowed, almost confused. “Is it not too cold for you?”

Your breath was, in fact, fogging in front of your face. And you couldn’t really feel your toes anymore. But the electric anticipation of tomorrow was keeping you warm enough. Even if only in spirit.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you waved him off. And then, because you couldn’t help yourself, you leaned forward on your tippytoes and blurted out, “Happy Almost Valentine’s Day!”

“Valentine’s Day?” Malleus repeated back at you, looking like you’d just handed him an unsolvable differential equation.

“It’s a holiday from back home,” you explained for the umpteenth time that day. “And normally I’m not too fussed about it, but this year I’m really excited to give everyone their chocolates!” You grinned. “And you too, of course. I have to make sure I give them to all my important people.”

The furrow between his brows vanished, but the blatant, gaping, confusion remained. He looked like you’d nearly startled him into an early grave.

“I am one of your most important people?” he asked, slow as a tortoise making its way up an incline.

You nodded cheerfully, still bellied by your earlier culinary successes and excellent mood. “Of course you are! We’re friends, aren’t we? And besides. Valentine’s Day is for showing people how much you care about them.”

“What an interesting concept,” he mused, bringing a finger up to tap at his chin. “To think your world had such a heartfelt tradition—it’s quite a lovely surprise.”

You laughed. “If you think the chocolates are special, you should see what some couples do for each other. Rooms full of flowers, fancy date nights—I’m just managing the bare minimum.”

“Couples?” he echoed, and you felt the first teeny, hot, thread of chagrin work its way past your enthusiasm.

“Well, normally Valentine’s Day focuses on, like, romantic things,” you said, averting your gaze just in time to miss the tension lance through his shoulders. “But it can be for all sorts of affection!” you hastily added.

“Is that so…” the Prince hummed. He lifted his pensive gaze once more and stared you down with that weighted intensity that you’d only just recently learned how not to buckle beneath. “And you wish to celebrate this day. With me?”

“…you don’t mind, do you?” you asked, hesitant.

“Of course not, Child of Man,” he beamed, his lips curling up into a smile that put all his too-sharp teeth on display. “But you’ll have to excuse me now, I’m afraid. It seems I have some preparations to undertake this evening.”

“Oh,” you blinked. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes,” Malleus said. “You will.”

.

.

It was officially Valentine’s Day, and you were ready to begin your mission of forcing your sweets onto every, single, one of your reluctant friends. Let them be pissy and tsundere. You weren’t afraid to weep and proclaim your undying, shounen-talk-no-jutsu, levels of friendship. Okay. Maybe you were a little. But these grouchy bastards had very easily become your grouchy bastards, and so help you God, they would suffer under your affection and they would like it.

There were plenty of small boxes—all nice, neat, corners with little bows perched on top. But you had also prepared a singular, larger, tray. It was cleaner cut than the rest, with bold, contrasting, colors and a simple elegance. You stared it down with a strange sort of disquiet brewing in your gut. Maybe you were being presumptuous. Goodness knows you’d more than dealt with the searing, emotionally destructive, consequences of that before. But all the same…

You squared your shoulders and spent a moment convincing yourself that your spine was quite sturdy—a proper, titanium, support system—and then popped the Big Box into the bag with the others.

Your first stop was Heartslabyul, and you burst through the ornate, crimson, doors like a manic home invader.

“I come bearing gifts,” you proclaimed, merrily doling out the boxes to your favorite idiot duo. You set three more aside, with little labels for Riddle, Trey, and Cater respectively. Normally you wouldn’t trust a dorm full of teenage boys not to devour any scrap of unattended food in sight, but Riddle had long since struck the fear of God into these poor lads. So you figured it’d be safe.

Deuce’s face lit up and he accepted the chocolate with near starry-eyed enthusiasm.

“Are these your holiday presents? Like the Santa Claus?” he asked, looking very much like a bouncy golden retriever preparing itself for congratulatory head pats.

You leaned forward with an indulgent huff to give him his pats. “No. But close enough.”

You pawned off three boxes on Ruggie when he tried to duck past you in the hallway—one for him, one for Leona, and one extra as payment for making him do your dirty work of playing delivery boy to Mister Grump in the first place. You slipped Jack his on the way into Trein’s morning lecture, and managed to press a box into Jamil’s hands before he slunk off to the library. Kalim cheered so loudly when you handed him one that your ears started to ring.

And then trouble arrived in the form of two, slippery, eels draping themselves across your shoulders. Normally the destructive duo seemed to act on their own prerogative, but on this fortuitous morning their Lord and Master was surprisingly not too far behind.

“Shrimpy!~” Floyd trilled, dragging you into a one-armed hug that was really more of a slightly-less-aggressive headlock than anything else. “Azul says you came up with this stupid holiday! And he made us work all day yesterdayto put together stuff for the Lounge! It’s not fair!”

Your legs shook under the weight of the new tumor that had made its home on your back.

“Now, Floyd,” Jade chirped. All finely manicured cruelty. “If you’re to blame anyone for going overboard with this entire situation, you ought to lay the fault on our fearless leader.” His bi-colored eyes flashed, amused. “Isn’t that right, Azul?”

Said ‘fearless leader’ looked like he was sucking on a lemon. He glared bitterly at his subordinate, seeming to share an entire, silent, argument with him, before turning back on you with a heavy sigh and the barest hint of angry flush in his cheeks.

“Prefect,” he grinned past his obvious discomfort, all sparkling, white, teeth. “I have to thank you for sharing so much information about this ‘Valentine’s Day’ of yours. It’s such a unique event, and it seems like our preparations at the Lounge are already being received incredibly well.”

“That’s good,” you nodded, trying and failing to shrug the Leech off your shoulders. “I’m glad I could help.”

Azul hummed under his breath, his eyes darting away for a moment. His glasses reflected the muted light of the hall in an odd way—making it difficult to read his expression. He cleared his throat and when he looked back up at you, the tips of his ears had gone pink.

“You’re more than welcome to come by, of course,” he beamed, suave as could be.

“I mean,” you blinked. “I would hope so. I work there.”

Floyd let out a bark of laughter and Jade snickered into his glove. The pleasant pink tinting Azul’s skin was heating to a near sunburned red. He looked down and coughed into his fist.

“Yes…” he mumbled. “I—I’m aware. But what I meant is… What I meant—” He frowned. It was a tight, pouty, little thing that scrunched up his entire face. That mottled red had spread to the bridge of his nose.

“I do believe what Azul is trying to say,” Jade stepped in, clearly taking some sort of pity on his tongue-tied friend. Or perhaps pity was the wrong word for it, seeing how smug he looked, “is that he would like to invite you to the event personally. As an honored guest, not an employee.”

“Oh,” you blinked, startled. Then hesitated, cautious on instinct. There was always some sort of catch to the Octomer’s kindness. “I don’t know if I could afford whatever fancy thing you’ve thrown together.”

“You wouldn’t be paying for it,” Azul assured you, some of that sickly flush having finally started to recede from his cheeks. You hoped he was feeling alright. “You’ve contributed more than enough for the day. It would be on the house.”

Jade loudly cleared his throat and Azul huffed, eyes sliding away yet again.

“I would be paying,” he finally mumbled. And then, even quieter, “As I believe is the custom.”

Just as you were about to thank him for his startling bought of generosity (and also ask after his health, because between the weird, pink, tinge to his skin and the aforementioned generosity, clearly somethingwas out of sorts with him), you noticed a sneaky hand working its way into your bag of goodies, and you immediately were on the defensive.

“Hey!” you snapped, spinning out of Floyd’s stranglehold. “You only get one!”

“Then I want the really big one!” he demanded, making grabby motions at it.

“No!” you squeaked, and clutched it protectively to your chest. The trio looked at you with varying degrees of surprise and you cleared your throat awkwardly. “This one—This one is special.”

“Oh?” Jade cooed, eyes flickering back towards Azul, who seemed determined to look absolutely anywhere else. “Is it now?”

“Awww,” Floyd whined. “That’s no fair! Who’s it for, anyways?!”

You gripped the box tighter and now it was your turn to stiffly avert your eyes down to the ugly carpet. “It’s not—I’m not—” you cleared your throat and forced the jitter from your voice. “I’m not ready to give it to him yet.”

The silence that followed was absolutely the worst thing you’d experienced in a long, long, time. Overblots and all. You could practically hear your blood pounding in your ears. You were just about to turn and beat a hasty retreat when a familiar, snappish, voice called your name from the other side of the corridor.

“There you are, potato,” Vil huffed, coming to stand at your side and bodily inserting himself between you and your tormentors. He met Azul’s petulant sneer with a frankly terrifying one of his own. “What are you doing here? I thought we agreed you’d be eating lunch with me today.”

You remembered no such thing, but if it got you out of this verbal minefield of a conversation, you were more than willing to take the claim at face value.

“Apologies,” Azul cut in with all his usual, mafioso, flair. “But the Prefect will be taking their afternoon meal at the Mostro Lounge today.”

“Is that so?” Vil hummed, sounding positively venomous.

“Unless you think you can make an offer good enough to sway them otherwise,” Azul chirped, equally as unpleasant.

Vil laughed—cold and sharp as crystal. It was the most elegant display of blatant irritation you’d ever seen.

“Of course you’d only consider this entire situation on a transactional basis,” he drawled, entirely unimpressed. Azul flinched and his expression screwed up into something near petulant. “I would expect no less. Are you planning to lock them into a contact too, hmm? Sign away everything in formal, sterile, terms?” Vil crossed his arms, and you were reminded sharply once more how very, very lucky you were to not be on his bad side (even if you hadn’t realized before all this that Azul apparently was on said bad side. You had no idea they disliked each other so terribly). “I really hadn’t expected you to have a single, romantic, bone in your body, and yet somehow I’m still disappointed to be proved so entirely correct.”

Azul looked ready to explode, and even though Jade and Floyd and melted back into the shadows at the start of this entire encounter, the pair of them were starting to look a bit murderous too—like sharks lazily circling the dark, ocean, depths.  

“Don’t you think you deserve better?” Vil asserted, turning back to face you with a soft cant of the head. You blinked back in shock.

“Uh,” you gaped, absolutely fucking lost.

And then, like a beacon of unrivaled, black-drenched, hope, you spotted Malleus making his way down the hallway. He was flanked by his trio of housemates-cum-pseudo-bodyguards. Normally you tried to leave him alone when his rabid, green-haired, guard dog was yipping at his heels, and on top of that, the idea of using your classmates’ ingrained fear of the Fae Prince to your own advantage upset your rather staunch sensibilities. But this was an emergency.

“Tsunotarou!” you called, and it absolutely sounded like the cry for help it was.

He perked up immediately and you watched him nearly crash to a standstill. And then his sharp, neon, gaze locked on the dueling Housewardens circling you like a pair of snapping wolves, and his merry expression shuttered into something positively glacial. Which was—Fuck. I mean. Come on. What the fuck was going on today—

“Child of Man,” he droned, crossing the short distance with all the grace of the near-mythical, arcane, master that he was. His posture was more collected and regal than you’d ever seen it, and he loomed all the taller for it.

Azul and Vil had gone tense at your side, one certainly more so than other. The Octomer looked incredibly unsettled at Malleus’s sudden arrival, but Vil just looked angrier. It was the sort of unpleasantness that bloomed whenever someone challenged him or his competencies over and over—inevitably pushing the normally composed beauty into an indignant rage.

“Happy Day of Valentine’s,” Malleus continued, slotting himself firmly into the veritable territory dispute going down. “Are you quite alright?”

No, you wanted to wail. No! I’m so confused! I have no idea what’s going on! I just wanted to give my friends chocolates!

But you never managed to get those words or any others past your lips, because Sebek Zigvolt shot to his master’s side with all the speed of the lightning for which he was so named, and immediately began to scream.

“HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT THE YOUNG MASTER’S AFTERNOON ROUTINE!” he shrieked at the top of his very impressive lungs.

You weren’t sure if he was howling at you (very likely) or just anyone who wasn’t Malleus, but Jade took the opportunity to slink forward from the shadows with a sharp tut-tut.

“Perhaps none of you deserve the Prefect’s special attentions,” he piped in, sounding very much like someone intentionally throwing a cannister of gasoline onto an already roaring fire. “Or any chocolates at all—let alone the ones set aside for someone special.”

At this, silence once more rang through the corridor and you wanted to throttle that stupid eel.

“There is a special box?” Malleus asked first, brow shooting up as his expression tugged with… something.

“I—I mean, I made all of yours special!” you defended, holding the wrapped treasure tightly to your chest. “But… I guess. Yes. There’s one that’s a little bigger than the others.”

At this, all three Housewardens exchanged pointed looks.

Jade smiled serenely once more, and then continued his absolute massacre upon your person.

“Yes, indeed,” he nodded. “And our dearest Prefect only just mentioned that—hmm. How did you word it? Ah. That’s right. ‘I’m not ready to give it to him yet.’”

The trio tensed. All looking absolutely ready to pounce. At—at what, you had no idea.

“Perhaps,” the wretch mused, “it would be best for you all to temper your rage until the victor is decided, hmm?” He paused to tap at his chin for a moment, and then his lips split into a mean, jagged, grin. “Afterwards? Well, I suppose that whole cheery sentiment about ‘love and war’ still holds true.”

You gulped, feeling startlingly like Jade had just tried to serve you up on a silver platter.

But when neither Azul, Vil, or Malleus made any further moves to murder each other… well. As sacrificial as it all felt, at least it must have worked.

The rest of the day passed in a tense sort of fugue. You certainly hadn’t expected your attempts at bringing some holiday cheer to Night Raven to go so… Uh…

But either way, you managed to survive through the rest of the afternoon, and before you knew it, all that remained of all your tireless efforts and good will was the Special Box. The big one. The one that you’d put together with extra care and hopes for better things. You glared down at it for a moment, feeling sweat starting to bead over your palms. But you couldn’t chicken out now. Not after you’d come so far! Everyone was acting so strange, and it was all so weird. And as much as that unfamiliarity had your teeth on edge and your hackles raised, you didn’t want to regret not giving out the last of your well-made sweets.

Well, here goes nothing, you frowned. You took a deep breath, willed yourself to be brave, and smiled your biggest smile.

“Here,” you beamed, more than a little shy and still a bit horrified by whatever pissing match had been going down earlier in the day, and finally offered the grandest of your chocolate boxes to the man standing opposite you.

Divus Crewel accepted your offering daintily, plucking at the crisp, sharp, wrapping with his crimson gloves. He arched one of his thin brows at you and you fought the nervous heat rising in your cheeks.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you blurted. “I know it’s not a thing here, but I thought it’d be nice.”

The second eyebrow joined the first—practically jumping all the way up into his fringe.

“I appreciate the gesture. Though from what I understand of all the garish advertising I’ve seen for Mostro Lounge’s new event, I assumed this was a holiday for romantic overtures,” he intoned, wry.

You spluttered and waved your hands furiously. “I mean! Normally! Yes! But also…” You trailed off, fighting the urge to fidget. “If you don’t have a—a, well, someone, then Valentine’s is just a nice excuse to give something to people you care about.” You averted your gaze and lost the battle to twist your fingers into your jacket sleeves. “My family used to give me chocolates every year. So. I thought I could… Well…” you trailed off on a grumble, embarrassed.

Crewel sighed and popped the lid off the box. He plucked two truffles from their casing—keeping one for himself and handing you the other.

“Well, then. A very happy Valentine’s to you, Prefect,” he droned and popped the chocolate into his mouth with a thoughtful hum.

You lit up like a Christmas tree and happily gobbled up your own treat. So distracted were you by the one-two-punch combo of the delicious sugar and even sweeter taste of your Professor’s approval that you almost entirely missed the pointed glare he shot over your shoulder.

“I appreciate your regard,” he said, loud. Sharp. And like he wasn’t talking to you at all. “And while I’m certain that if you do pick a ‘someone’ for yourself to celebrate with in the following years, they’ll have to work very hard to be worthy of such a gift, hmm?” His lip curled unpleasantly, in direct contrast to the indulgent warmth that had been tugging at his expression only a moment before. “I could hardly allow you to waste such a thoughtful gesture on someone unworthy.”

The Octavinelle Housewarden had the decency to look at least a little panicked—his face going pale and gaunt from where he was shrinking into his high collar. There was a frantic look about him, like he was trying to weigh the cost-benefit ratio of going up against his professor in his head, and realizing that he was stupidly, willfully, walking right into a lose-lose situation. And that, sadly—miserably—he was going to keep doing just that. The other two, however, looked entirely undeterred. Schoenheit curled his lip right back at him, more than ready to duke it out here and now, and Crewel fought the urge to remind the blonde that he was the adult in this situation, thank you very much. The adult who could very well revoke the Warden’s access to his Alchemy Labs as it suited him. The very alchemy labs that he knew Vil had been using to concoct all kinds of new, personalized, gifts for you. Draconia simply looked on with that unnervingly ancient, green, leer of his. Like he was staring down a particularly fascinating game. The Fae Prince was the most unsettling of the trio, if only because that while Crewel was more than confident enough in his abilities to subdue his other wayward students, fighting off an Immortal, All Powerful, Dragon was going to require at least a little bit of prep work.

Divus Crewel sighed, and it rattled all the way out from the marrow of his bones.

“Come, then,” he rumbled, directing you to follow him back into his office. “It’s not chocolates, but I probably have some of those ridiculous cookies of yours lying around somewhere.” Which he did. Boxes upon boxes of them. Tucked away special for whenever you came to visit. Not that he’d ever willingly admit that, even under the pain of death.

Your eyes went wide and warm as you positively beamed.

It was rotten work, certainly. He shot one, last, warning glare down the hall at the trio of infatuated interlopers as he firmly shut his office door behind you and your absolute oblivious idiocy. He’d do it. Of course he would. But, Christ alive. He was going to need a stronger drink.

[heartfullofleeches]

dude abby is so fire can we get more hcs or a snippet i beg

It's been a hot minute since I've done HCs and they give me excuse to flesh out my characters so we'll do with that-

Abby [Rental Zombie Spouse HC]

Warnings: Dismemberment, Mentions of death

-

Abby doesn't remember much about himself before he died. Everything predating the night he woke up in the back alley behind a restaurant witu a hole in his head is a blur to him. All he had to his person was a wallet, his phone, and the keys to an apartment - none of which helped jog his memory as the man the ID inside the wallet couldn't possibly be him.

As recently established, Abby earns money by hosting services where he will be the customer's partner- There are a handful of male options, but he prefers to pose as females in his disguises because those usually pay more and he likes the dress up.

While Abby doesn't require human flesh as his only food source, he can eat chunks of it to repair rotting or damaged tissue. He can also swap out parts that are no longer useful with fresh ones which is a major factor to how successful his business is since changing a few features makes him a completely new person. He has a deep freezer in his apartment where he keeps his "accessories" until they expire.

When it comes to what he likes in a Darling not even Abby knows. He's very easily distracted by things and an encounter with him trying to cut out a part of you he likes can instantly switch to yout first date of many just by him seeing you like that peeks his interest as well.

"Hey, You! Cute eyes you got... Mind if I borrow them?.... Oh! What are you listening to?... I love this band! I think.... Maybe the old me did. Let's listening to more songs together and find out!"

Since you would probably like to keep all your limbs, Abby steals physical objects that belong to you to feel closer to you. He would insist on something like matching tattoos or piercings since if you can't share the same flesh - you can at least have the same branding. Do not leave any jewelry or clothing that may fit him unattended.

Any body part that was at one tethered to him will still be usable even if it's separate from him as long as it's functional. There's a reason he always knows what you're thinking- he's got eyes and ears everywhere. Please don't throw them out if you happen to find any. :(

You'll almost never meet him when he isn't "Abby". When he doesn't care about his appearance or how bad the state of his decay is and just slaps on a hoodie and a face mask to get around. It's how he keeps watch on you without use of his spare eyes and sorta feels like how some people without their makeup.

He/him, but doesn't care about whatever pronouns his clients use for him.

Spends his money on brand new items for you, but goes broke buying second hand goods from yard sales and thrift stores because he loves older furniture and giving things a new home... Will pawn his junk off on you when he has strength in your relationship that you won't leave or make fun of him for his odd purchases.

"Why do you mean "why did I buy twenty cassette players"?? If you use the one I bought you already are a diary, I wouldn't have to stalk you as frequently!"

[smellysluna]

Could you write an Adrien x reader imagine where they’re forced to date by their parents to promote an upcoming fashion collaboration something, and then go from hating each other and being super fake to falling in love for real?

You know what? I postponed this ask waaaay to much. So what did I do? I sat down and took up your challenge. Go and enjoy the story you asked for but I never put the effort to make - until now e.e

warnings? no warnings apply :p

You always thought arranged dates were a relic of the past, something that only happened in old movies or distant cultures. Yet here you were, sitting across from Adrien Agreste, the face of the Agreste fashion empire.

Your parents have arranged this meeting to promote an upcoming collaboration between their brands, hoping the buzz around your "relationship" would skyrocket their sales.

Adrien looked perfect, as always—his blond hair artfully tousled, green eyes bright but distant. Always maintaining the perfect façade. Unlike you, painfully aware of every imperfection and every nervous gesture.

"Let's get one thing straight," Adrien said, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but firm. "We don’t have to like each other, but we do have to make this work."

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and annoyance. "Agreed. Let's just get through this."

For the next hour, you both put on a show for the paparazzi lurking outside, sharing forced smiles and rehearsed lines. The whole encounter felt like a poorly scripted play, and you couldn't wait for it to end.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of public appearances, photo shoots, and meticulously planned dates. Your parents had spared no expense in crafting the perfect narrative: two young heirs, brought together by fate and fashion. But behind the scenes, your interactions with Adrien were cold and apathetic.

One evening, after yet another tedious event, you found yourself walking alone in the Agreste mansion. The luxury of the place was suffocating, each room a reminder of the pressure you were under.

You wandered into the library, seeking solace among the rows of books.

"You like to read?" Adrien's voice startled you.

You turned to find him leaning against the doorway, a curious look on his face. "Yeah," you admitted. "It's one of the few ways I can escape."

He nodded, stepping into the room. "I get that. Sometimes I feel like my whole life is scripted. But I prefer watching anime to get some distraction." And patrolling as Chat Noir, though he wasn’t about to expose his best-kept secret to you.

For a moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, and it struck a chord within. Maybe you weren't so different after all.

As the days passed, the cracks in your mutual disdain began to show. You still argued over trivial things and maintained a facade of disinterest, but there were moments—small, fleeting moments—when you glimpsed the real Adrien beneath his polished exterior.

One afternoon, you were both at a photoshoot for the collaboration campaign. The theme was a romantic picnic, complete with a vintage blanket and a basket of props. The director called for a break, and you and Adrien found yourselves alone in the park.

"Here," Adrien said, handing you a water bottle. "You look like you could use this."

"Thanks," you replied, surprised by the gesture. "I didn't expect you to be so… thoughtful."

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

He hesitated, then said, "Like how terrible I am at cooking. I once set the kitchen on fire trying to make toast."

You laughed, picturing the usually composed Adrien in such a chaotic situation. "Seriously? Toast?"

He grinned, a little sheepishly. "Yeah, it was pretty bad. I had to call the fire department and everything. My father was not impressed."

You chuckled, the tension between you easing a bit. "Well, remind me never to let you near my kitchen."

He laughed along with you, the sound genuine and warm. "Deal. And maybe one day you can teach me how to make toast without causing a disaster."

One day, after a particularly exhausting photoshoot, Adrien and you found yourselves with a rare afternoon off. Deciding to make the most of it, you both ended up in the Agreste mansion's sprawling garden. The setting was beautiful and serene, a perfect escape from the public eye.

As you wandered through the lush greenery, admiring the flowers, you suddenly felt a cold splash of water on your neck. You turned around to see Adrien standing there, a mischievous grin on his face and a small water gun in his hand.

"Did you just...?" you began, but before you could finish, he squirted you again, laughing.

"Lighten up!" he teased. "It's just a bit of water."

You couldn't help but laugh, the unexpected prank breaking through the formality that often hung between you. "Oh, you're going to regret that!" you said, grabbing a nearby watering can and splashing him back.

What ensued was a playful water fight, with both of you dodging and splashing, laughing like carefree kids. It felt liberating to let go and just have fun, forgetting about the pressures and expectations that usually weighed you down.

Finally, drenched and out of breath, you both collapsed onto the grass, still giggling.

"Okay, I have to admit, that was pretty fun," you said, wiping water from your face.

Adrien smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "See? I knew you had it in you."

"Just don't make a habit of it," you warned playfully. "Or I might have to come up with a prank of my own."

"I'd like to see you try," he challenged, his grin widening.

As you lay there, catching your breath, you realized that this was the first time you'd seen Adrien truly relax and let his guard down. It made it more obvious that he's not just a perfect, polished model, but a real person who wants to laugh and have fun.

As the collaboration launch approached, your relationship with Adrien grew deeper. You began to spend more time together, not just for the cameras, but because you genuinely enjoyed each other's company. You talked about everything—your favourite anime, your dreams, your fears, your hopes for the future.

One day, you were both at a charity event for Adrien's school, where he introduced you to his friends. Nino, Marinette, Alya—they were welcoming and kind, and you felt a pang of envy at the close-knit group they formed.

"You're lucky to have such great friends," you said to Adrien as you watched them from a distance.

"I know," he replied, a fond smile on his face. "They keep me grounded."

"Tell me more about them," you urged.

He did, and as he spoke, you saw a different side of him—one that was caring, loyal, and deeply connected to those he loved. It made you like him even more.

The night of the collaboration launch arrived, and the event was a resounding success. The venue was abuzz with excitement, filled with influential guests, dazzling lights, and the perfect blend of glamour and sophistication. Your parents were thrilled, the media couldn't get enough, and every detail had gone off without a hitch.

After a whirlwind of interviews, photos, and obligatory mingling, you and Adrien finally managed to slip away to a quiet balcony overlooking the city. The cool night air was a welcome respite from the heat and noise inside.

"We did it," you said, raising your glass to him. The city lights reflected in your eyes, adding a sparkle that matched your mood.

"Yeah, we did," he agreed, clinking his glass with yours. His smile was genuine, not just for the cameras this time. "But I want to tell you something."

You raised an eyebrow, heart beating, curiosity piqued. "Oh? What's that?"

He took a deep breath, looking out over the city before turning back to you. "I don't want this to end. This whole thing. I know it started as a publicity stunt, but somewhere along the way, it became real for me."

Your heart skipped a beat. "I...". The sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable. "I actually feel the same way," you admitted, feeling a rush of warmth on your face.

He laughed, a light, joyful sound that made your heart flutter. "Good. Because pretending to be in love with you was starting to feel way too easy."

You blushed, a mix of relief and happiness washing over you. "So, what now?"

Adrien stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands. "Let's stop pretending and see where this takes us. For real this time."

Adrien stepped closer, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Now," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "we make this real."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in that perfect moment. You could feel the genuine emotion behind his kiss, a stark contrast to the rehearsed displays of affection you'd shown the world.

As the kiss deepened, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His hands found their way to your waist, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. The kiss was intoxicating, filled with all the feelings you'd both been holding back.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and smiling, Adrien rested his forehead against yours. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he confessed, his voice full of warmth.

"Me too," you replied, feeling a flutter of joy.

The pressures of your parents and the fashion world still loomed, but they felt more manageable with Adrien by your side.

[moonstruckme]

This celebration bake sale is so unbelievably precious omg I’m in love with you

Congrats on 7k!! And wishing you a lovely birthday!!

May I request a little apple pie with Carmy and the prompt a six pack of beer and an apology (#10) (it just seems so him)

I’m overwhelmed with affection for you babe <3

Thank you lovely, I got really excited about the idea haha. And you're right, it is so him <3

cw: alcohol

Carmy Berzatto x fem!reader ♡ 902 words

You’re unsurprised to open your door and find Carmy on the other side. It’s why, while you have changed into your pajamas, you didn’t go for one of the shirts that’s all moth-bitten or the pants with rockstar squirrels printed on them (they’re very comfy, alright?). These are your presentable pajamas, and they allow you to stand tall in your slippers and look at Carmy with some dignity. 

He, of course, in his chef’s coat. It still has some sauce splattered on the fabric partway down his chest. You know he’s trying to look presentable since the restaurant went more upscale, but you miss his tight white t-shirts (for reasons which will remain unspecified, though you’ve hinted to him more than once). 

“Hey,” Carmy says. He looks abashed, which is a nice start. 

You’re not letting him off easy, though. You cross your arms and let your hip jut out a little, regarding him coolly. “Hi.” 

His gaze seems stuck on your chin. “I, uh. I wanted to apologize.” 

Try as you might, you can’t help the little smile that turns your mouth at how awkward he sounds. You lift an eyebrow to try to retain some of your higher ground. “Okay. Wanna come in and have a drink?” you ask him, partly because you know how difficult this is for him and partly because you want him to know you know how difficult this is for him. 

“Sure,” he says, letting you lead the way to the fridge. You grab a couple of beers from a six-pack, setting them down on the kitchen table. 

Your fingers grow slippery with condensation as you crack yours open. Carmy moves to do the same, but his mouth twists. 

“What?” 

His eyes flick up to yours like he’s been caught. You don’t know why he’s surprised; Carmy has never been good at keeping things off his face. He gives a minute shake of his head. 

“Nothing.” 

“No, what?” 

“It’s nothing.” He’s looking at the table, and you get the sense that while he sounds like he’s done talking, he’ll say more if you let him. So you stay quiet. “Just, my mom used to baste turkeys with this stuff.” 

You raise your eyebrows. You and Carmy haven’t been together for long, but you’ve been around his family long enough to know what his mom is like. What holidays mean for them all. “This same brand?” 

“Yeah.” Carmy still looks like he’s about to open it, working a short fingernail under the tab, but you pull it away from him before he can. 

“What do you want instead?” you ask earnestly. 

Again, he looks surprised. You’re reminded of how much tough love he’s around all the time. Maybe you ought to be kinder to him. He chews the inside of his cheek, thoughtful. 

“Do you have any ginger beer? I could make a Moscow mule.” 

And again, your lips betray you. You almost laugh, actually. “God, that is so New York.” You stand, taking your beers back to the fridge. Yours will get flat. You don’t mind. “What would make you think I have ginger beer? In my tiny fridge? Why would I stock that?” 

You can practically feel the waves of Carmy’s awkwardness hitting your back like radiation. “If you don’t have any…” 

“No, I do.” You emerge with two cans of ginger beer. “Weirdly, I bought some months ago and it got shoved back there. Make me one, too, that sounds way better than beer.” 

Carmy stands to take the cans from you, going to the counter. He’s not smiling but looks tantalizingly close to it, the tension in his shoulders relaxing somewhat. “Do you also have a lime, or…”

You roll your eyes. “In the bowl on your left, fancy pants.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Thank you.” You sit back down in your chair, watching him cut your lime into wedges. “As apologies go, you’re off to a great start.” 

“Yeah.” Carmy sounds a tad bashful. “I wasn’t really expecting it to go this well.” 

You take a breath, letting it whoosh out of you, and decide to put him out of his misery. When you speak, your voice is serious, though not unkind. “You can’t just yell at me because you’re stressed, Carm.” 

Carmy’s shoulders string tighter again. “I know. I shouldn’t have lost my cool like that, I’m sorry.” 

“I know you’re used to a lot of yelling, and it’s all you hear in your kitchen and stuff, but not with me. I can’t do it, okay? And you can tell me when you’re having a shit day—I’d love that, actually—but you can’t expect me to tiptoe around you because someone else did something when I wasn’t around.” 

“I know.” Carmy’s eyes close. He looks almost pained. “I know, I know. I really fucked up. It won’t…I won’t let it happen again. Really.” 

“Okay,” you say softly. 

“I’ll keep my shit separate.” 

“Okay. I believe you.” You wait until he opens his eyes, let him see the sincerity in your expression. Among other, softer feelings, probably. “We’re cool. Okay?” 

He nods once. He still looks guilty, ashamed, but that’s okay. You’ll bring him back around. Forgive him forcefully until he gets past it, too. 

“Sick.” You pull your legs up into your chair, crossing them and setting your hands on your knees eagerly. “I still want my apology drink, though. Blow my mind, chef.”

[beautifullache]

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[3liza]

saw a youtube sponsorship for a brand that markets itself as "masculine shoes in small sizes, for trans men" and if the entire idea wasn't already preposterous (this is part of a large scale marketing push to convince trans people that clothing that has been available on the normal heterosexual market for generations is "hard to find" so they can charge you hundreds of dollars for it), it's also ugly, and they have chosen to call their company "Tomboy Toes". if you said those two words to my face in a shoe store i would slap you

$120 for a black or brown version of the standard school uniform brogue which has been available all the way down to toddler sizes since uhhhhhhh approximately 1820.

just to double check my sense of reality i went to the largest single online shoe market on earth besides Amazon (zappos) and typed in "women's brogues" and selected size 5 which would be pushing the lower limit on the larger part of the bell curve of adult AFAB people on earth, or at least the northern hemisphere, and there are many options in approximately the same price range depending on brand name, with sales regularly down to much less, on similar or identical styles. ebay also. Tomboy Toes carries down to size EU33 which is around 3.5 US Women's and again, that's just in the children's section if you need Picture Day/uniform (children)/ Office Whatever (adult) Shoes and they are on eBay lightly used in great numbers because kids grow out of them in 6-10 months.

is it annoying to be shopping in "women's section" or "kids section" for these things when you are an adult man. yes. so i dont understand the marketing impetus to replicate that exact scenario by naming your company for adult trans men something i would assume was a sassy yet misguided terf brand if i found it on a label in a generic wingtip at Goodwill. cis men who are very small also have to shop in the small sections for their small clothes. i am wearing a t-shirt meant for a 7 year old right now, it says so on the label. it fits me better than any of the shirts i own that are made for the standard american adult. i literally have bigger things to worry about

naturally their "vegan leather" selection is much larger but again, it's ugly Trendy Booties that will fall apart in a year and are, i cant emphasize this enough, made of plastic, nothing special, and in standard women and children's sizes which are already plentiful at every shoe retailer. why are we letting these "trans brands" charge us a $100 tax to pretend to take us seriously (while at the same time calling us "tomboys")? does anyone know

i do, its actually because of the learned helplessness issue again. the accepted wisdom at the tumblr layer of transness is 'its so hard to find [item of clothing that is suitable for trans people]" because the knowledge of how to shop for these items in the actual market has completely evaporated within the last ten years, i watched it happen right in front of me. but it's a complete fallacy, you can find this stuff easily. you can find large women's shoes, small men's shoes, women's clothing with wide shoulders or long torsos, there are entire stores for this already and measurements and sectiions within "department stores" (such as they are) and then after that there are one million billion foam inserts and seams and button placements and belts and scarves and gloves and hem lengths and blah blah blah that trans people and also cis people who are not standard-shaped or who just want their shoes or bras or shirts to fit have already been using for thousands of years so ive been mad about this all day. TOMBOY TOES. they are having us for absolute fools. just call me a slur at this point

i already know some nincompoop is going to match me paragraph for paragraph in a heated defense of the hundred dollar jingle keys boring shoes so i just want them to know in advance: we are not the same. i have so many cool shoes it is unbelievable. in every gender imaginable. and i didn't pay more than like $50 for any of them. also no theres no cheat sheet to learning to buy clothing for your body, i do not say this with any rancor either, its just hard, it takes a long time, and i dont have a cheatsheet for it because there isnt one. except rule #1: dont buy $120 boring ugly shoes from someone jingling their keys in front of your face and calling it Queer Fashion when you can get them for a lot less basically anywhere $120 isnt even a lot for a GOOD pair for mid-range, non-designer leather dress shoes. if you know they will last for ten years and stand up to resoling, it's completely fine. but not for thooooooose

[dcxdpdabbles]

need more mr flavor im thorsty

"You want to buy my soda?" Danny asks again as the man in a suit across from him smiles sickly sweet. They are crammed in the left-corner booth of Anthony's Pasta, with a stack of paperwork on the table.

Danny had just been getting ready to open a shop when this man strolled in wearing the same waxy grin Vlad wore whenever he spoke to his Dad. Danny had been on his guard as the man introduced himself, and while his smile and mannerisms were pleasant, Danny could tell by his eyes that he could not trust the other.

There was no emotion in them.

"That's correct, Mr. Flavor. You see, your brand is starting to stir quite a ruckus. But it's unfortunately, on such a small scale, the trend's popularity will lead to your brand dying out. We at Zesti want to help you reach a bigger audience before that happens. I personally think you have so much potential and I wouldn't want to see it go to waste." The man, Oscar, tells him. He leans back, open body language to try to put Danny at ease.

Danny frowns "My soda is a trend?"

"A passing one unless we don't make the smart choices now. Zesti can help with that," Oscar hinted. He pushes the contract he brought along with him towards Danny. "We'll handle the marketing, distribution, and you will make sixty percent of all final sales. All you need to provide is the tasty beverage."

Danny quickly glances over the contract. At first glance, it seems to be in his favor. But it's dragged out in a package of twenty pages where the wording slowly takes away from his own benefits.

They would handle marketing, but the funds would come from his sixty percent of profits—not all, but a good twenty percent. This left him with forty percent of sales.

Then, Zesti would cover the distribution outside of Gotham. Within Gotham, they would use his money again. That left Danny with only twenty percent of the sales since the other twenty would be used for Gotham distribution.

Since Zesti was going to help him start up, they would ask for a ten percent deposit for the first five years. That way, the sodas could help build a customer base to fund the other two costs.

By page eighteen, Danny would only be making ten percent of the promised income. He thought it was unethical business practices, but the conditions and wording they added to the contract made it legally possible.

Danny just had to sign, and he would agree to the horrid conditions. Now, he didn't really care about the soda. It wasn't like he invented it; he merely brought it over from another world, but it was the fact that they were trying to trick him that upset him.

If he could spot this in a quick read-through, what would he find if he had someone professional look over the contract? Danny bets there would be wording that made him irreverent and legally made Zesti the owner of his work.

They also sent a company representative to discuss legal details in a restaurant. Danny doesn't know the laws of this place (He thinks a lot of Gotham's issues with the Rouges could be solved if they were to include the Death Penalty, but that's just him) He feels a minor shouldn't be making legal decisions without some kind of lawyer.

He knows Oscar is clicking his pen to pressure him to sign as he reads. Jazz would do it whenever she wanted him to sign on for whatever community service she needed.

It was laughable to think that this man was attempting to use the same business psychology that his sister had trained him to notice. Zesti must believe he was an easy target.

"It says here that I would give Zesti complete creative freedom over my soda. How would that stop you from changing a thing about the recipe and then claiming I have no right to the new recipe?" he asks, flipping to page twelve and watching Oscar's oily smile never slip.

"That's just about the bottling and design of the brand. The leaping boy is nice, but we want to clean it up and give it more attention-grabbing details." Oscars assures. He failed to address Danny's concern, which told him everything he needed to hear.

"I'm not interested in selling. Thank you for the offer, though," he tells Oscar, pushing back the contract.

The other man laughs as if Danny has said something amusing. There is a bit of condensation in the undertones of his laughter as if he were speaking to a toddler and finding their confusion entertaining. "I'm not sure you understand, Mr. Flavor. This is an amazing opportunity that others would kill for."

Danny shrugs. "Then offer it to them."

Oscar sighs loudly, shaking his head. "Mr. Flavor, I don't think you understand. This could be what makes you a millionaire, and it's your only chance to make that dream a reality."

"What makes you think being rich is my dream? What if my dream is to become a ghost?"

That finally made the other man lose his smile for only a second before Oscar leaned forward. "Please think carefully. This is the best for you and your brand. Gotham makes people like you disappear from the public eye when a new trend comes by."

"Disappear?" As in intangible? As in ghost? As in Phantom, what part of himself has he been searching for?

Oscar seems to think Danny's wide eyes were because he was frightened instead of excited. Oscar leans back with a smirk, his eyes still hellishly cold and emotionless. It is strange to now always glance into a person's eyes to learn of their true intentions.

No matter how well a ghost hides among humans, they can never disguise their otherworldliness if Danny watches their eyes. He read somewhere that the eyes were the doors to the soul, and after being Phantom, knowing his eyes actually flash with his emotions, he knows it's true.

Oscar may appear human, but whatever humanity there was in him is long gone.

"It would be safer to sign, young man." He says again, this time in a mocking tone.

Danny laughs. "If I was worried about my safety, I wouldn't be jumping off buildings, would I? Have a good day Oscar."

He stands up, leaving the contract on the table, ignoring the stuttering man. Danny has other things to worry about like the restaurant is open for an hour and a line forming at his foldable table.

It wasn't that his soda was that personally important to him, but it was his main source of income. Phantom was still well out of reach despite the amount of life-threatening activities he was getting up to.

Danny even tried to bother the more violent ghosts of the area by strutting into their space while carrying a stupid little tea cup set. He figured they would react to a perceived attack on their pride—instead, the ghosts were so touched that he thought of them.

He tried to get hit by five more cars. One notable incident had him flying into a light pole. He had mistaken the feeling of finally getting his flight back until the ache in his back started.

Danny had even thrown himself into the Gotham River after being told by multiple people that it was filled with chemicals from illegal dumping from some local faculties.

He was starting to think he would never get his ghost side back until a mugger stabbed him in the stomach. Danny had been counting his bills while walking away from a lovely ghost couple in an alley by the old movie theater when the man had jumped out of the shadows, stabbed him, and ran off with his cash.

Danny had fallen to the ground, aware of Martha's scream and Thomas' swear as he choked on his blood. The ghosts were bound to the alley, but they had walked to the edge of it to watch him and felt horrible that they could do nothing for him.

Thomas had looked up at the sky, screaming, while also trying to push against the barrier that keeps anchored ghosts to their death space. "Bruce! Bruce! Please come here! Bruce! He's dying! He's just a kid! Bruce!"

Not sure who Bruce was or how he could help didn't mean anything to Danny when he felt a sort of burst of power from deep inside his chest that suppressed the pain.

The ghost couple had been horrified when Danny's blood had turned green and his hysterical laugh as his wound closed the second he ripped out the blade.

Phantom had healed him, which meant Danny just had to find a way to get Phantom to come back from whatever lock he was behind.

"Are you okay, Danny?" Heather asks him once he walks past the waitress. She glances at the table where Oscar sits, a wide customer smile still firmly on her friendly, open face, but her eyes are guarded. "He said anything strange to you?"

"Nah, he just wanted to buy my soda before Gotham made me "disappear" and die from lack of trend," Danny laughs, swinging open his little cooler. He ignores how she stiffens, and the first customer in line throws a wild, horrified look in his direction.

He lines up his flavors with a bit of hum, ignoring the tension growing in the restaurant. Oscar makes a show of leaving as if Danny will call out to stop him before he slams the door on his way out. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief when he vanishes, but Danny doesn't mind.

He continues on with his day. Let Oscar try the fear tactics- what is he going to do? Kill him? Ha.

Danny misses the long conversation Heather has with Anthony, who later asks Danny if he wants him to inform Red Hood of the threat. Danny laughs it away, packs up his things, and stores the table and cooler in Anthony's space closet.

Despite the warnings of the concerned staff- Danny had grown quite close with everyone there but not beyond occasional coworkers- he left for his motel. Danny attempted to get hit by a bus on the way home and nearly did had it not been for a driver's fast reflects.

The bus driver had been distracted by his phone- which is why Danny had targeted him- but he had waved away his horrified apologies. As Danny entered Crime Alley, he figured being loud and rumbustious like his Dad would hopefully get him shot.

Gotham had a limited amount of patience for loud people. He picked a silly gum commercial jingle popular in his home dimension and skipped down the sidewalks, yelling the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

Danny didn't even reach the end of the street before a van rolled up next to him. He had enough time to look at it curiously as the van door was flung open, and a group of masked men jumped out. They yanked him inside, throwing a gag over his mouth and slamming him onto the floor.

The wheels scream as the van speeds away, leaving Danny at the mercy of his kidnappers. He tries to wiggle up, but a hard thump against the back of his head- likely from the butt of one of their guns- causes him to crumble down.

"This isn't his usual mark." One commented, looking down at Danny with a cold indifference that he could make out from his eyeholes. "They're usually brown-haired, aren't they?"

"Who cares?" Another answer is, "Just as long as we get paid, who cares what they look like?"

Danny stares at him, wondering if anyone in the van knew this person cared very deeply. Their eyes showed concern, guilt, and the right amount of protective intent, and he felt he wasn't in danger.

He had regrets about what he was doing, to the point of betraying everyone here, or he was an undercover cop. Either option ruined his plan of being shot, though, so Danny wiggled about, ignoring the more hits it got him before he was able to have the gag fall down.

"Are you going to kill me?" He asks the group of four.

"No." One laughs. "But by the time the boss finishes with you, you will wish you were dead like all the others."

"Oh, so it's a waitlist kind of thing?" Danny asks, "Is the list by order of arrival, or did the others make appointments?"

There is a moment of stunned silence. Danny swings his head, looking between everyone, waiting for an answer, but when he receives nothing, he sighs, leaning back into a more comfortable position. They didn't tie him up or anything, so he easily crosses his legs under him and cracks his neck. "If we could kill me first, that would be ideal."

"You want to die?" The guilty one asks.

"Correction, I want to be a ghost."

"Damn, the kid is crazy." The last one- the driver- laughs. "No wonder the boss wanted him."

"By boss, you mean Oscar, don't you." Danny shakes his head. "No, wait, don't answer that. I already know it's him. He has the eyes for it. He's the reason the light-brown hair people are missing, huh? Cyrus mentioned it the last time we talked. Bet you he kidnapped that lady in the antique shop. He stared at us for a long time; Susan had to point him out; Susan is the ghost outside the shop. She taught me how to make the most delicious fudge from the rain of Gotham's downdraught youth- which reminds me of the nickname they gave Baja Blast."

No one speaks after his long-winded rant before Danny leans forward, locking gazes with the guilty one. "Have you ever had your Baja blasted?"

"Um, no?"

"You need to man."

"I can't listen to this shit anymore. Knock him out, but watch the face. The boss likes his merchandise clean."

Danny scoffs, twisting his head to snark at the one sitting in the passenger seat. "Just say, Oscar. We both know it's him."

He feels a hard thump on the back of his head, and the words turn dark. He prays that when he wakes up, he'll have snow-white hair and glowing green eyes.

[bevanne46]

How to Build a Fabric Stash without Breaking the Bank

Fabric can be expensive but it doesn’t have to be.  If you are not stuck on Name Brands or Specialty Fabric Store Exclusives here are some ways to build your fabric stash without costing an arm and a leg. I have made many beautiful quilts using various fabrics from various supplies. And I believe that the quality is not just in the fabric you use but also in your stitch work and seams sizes. If your seams are less than a ¼” they will not hold (personally I prefer to use a ½” seam allowance). If you are not securing your thread ends, your stitch work is going to come undone. So be sure to watch these things too.

Look for fabric at your local Thrift Store (Goodwill, Value Village, etc.)

I have found some wonderful fabrics in various sizes, notions, storage items and more at my local Thrift Stores. I have even found unfinished quilt tops that I have brought home and added a backing to then quilted. Remember that almost any size fabric remnant can be added to other remnants to make some wonderful scrappy quilts so save your own remnants after making a quilt, you may be able to use it later in another quilt.

Look for local Fabric Sales held by Quilting Guilds in Your Area.

We have 2 near me every summer.One charges $2 per pound for any fabric. The second one charges $2 per yard for any fabric. Both also sell batting, notions, books, machines, tools, and more.

Look for fabric on Facebook Marketplace, Nextdoor and other sites.

I sell extra fabric on Marketplace and Nextdoor. I have also found several ladies near me selling fabric that I have purchased. And some I have purchased with shipping to me.

Look for older 100% Cotton Sheets at your local Thrift Stores.

Back in the 1800’s and early 1900’s, Quilts were not show pieces. They were real functional blankets that were made from any and all fabrics they could get, usually used clothing. I think there is no reason why we cannot still do that instead of buying expensive fabrics. I have often used clothing, sheets, curtains, and other linens to make some wonderful, usable quilts. And there are some wonderful patterns you can use for quilts in bedsheets from the 1980’s and 1990’s. Note: I always wash anything from a Thrift Store before I use it.

Watch for Fabric Sales and Coupons for Joanns, Hobby Lobby and other Fabric & Craft Stores.

I know some quilters believe that the fabric from Joanns & Hobby Lobby is poor quality but I have not found any bad fabric from these stores.  We do not have a “Quilting” store close to me and because I’m handicapped, I will not drive an hour or more just to buy expensive fabric.  If I did that, I wouldn’t be able to afford to quilt.  I will also buy fabric from Walmart but I am more careful with my selection there as most fabric at Walmart is good but I have had one or two pieces that I felt were poorer quality.

Watch for Fabric Sales and Coupons for your Local Quilt Shop.

Quilt shops will also have occasional sales and/or coupons so if you prefer to shop at these locations take notice of when they have sales. Also ask if they ever give discounts to seniors or military.

Use New or Older Clothing.

I have made a lot of beautiful Memorial Quilts from a loved one’s clothing and T-Shirt quilts. I will use jeans, work shirts, uniforms, flannel, cotton, polyester and even some knits.  These can be a little trickier to work with because they are often stretchy fabrics but they will add a wonderful texture and visual variance to your quilts.  I recently found a pair of cotton pants with Mickey Mouse on them. I fell in love with them because they were so colorful, and I love bold colors. I found several other cotton fabrics that matched the colors in the Mickey pants and made a bold colorful quilt!

Rethink Your Backing Fabric

No one ever said your quilt backing had to be all New Cotton. You can use Fleece, Flannel or Bed Sheets as well. On many occasions I have found some wonderful fleece blankets on clearance and used these for my quilt backing.  Joanns right now has a great clearance sale on Flannel fabric. The best part about using some of these is that you can get then in a wider width so you may be able to make your backing in all one piece instead of 2 or more like when using regular cotton (unless you want your backing to be in various colors/patterns).  You can also use new or older cotton bed sheets for a quilt backing. Again, you can make your quilt backing in one solid piece with a sheet!

Check the Clearance Section for Your Favorite On-Line Stores

I have several on-lines stores that I love to shop from (e-Quilter, Missouri Star, etc.) but sometimes they can be expensive so I always check the clearance section of these stores. There are times I will find some beautiful fabrics on clearance so will purchase it then look for matching piece everywhere else so I can get the best deals. Also check for on-line sales from Joanns, Hobby Lobby and other on-lines stores that sell fabric and/or sheets.

Check Out Your Local Garage, Moving and Estate Sales

I have found some of the best deals at moving and estate sales because often the seller is willing to bargain with you. I once found an estate sale where a family was selling off all their mother’s quilting and sewing items because she had passed away and none of then sewed. There was more fabric and notions than I would have used in a year so I found lots of thread and items I purchased at a great price.

Note on Batting

I know that many quilters believe that the only batting you should use is expensive cotton batting. I disagree.  There are many forms of batting. Cotton/Poly blends, Polyester, and Fleece. I love cotton batting but cotton will break down quicker than polyester and I want my quilts to last a lifetime so for most of my quilts I actually use Polyester more often than not. I have taken the backing off many older quilts to do repair work and the cotton batting inside was all balled up and a real mess.

Now when I am doing the Quilt-as-you-Go method I use a Fleece batting. The fleece can be cut into smaller pieces, fabric added to the top and then sewn back together to make wonderful quilts. And the batting doesn’t get stuck in my machine.

Shop Around for your batting to find the best deals. Sometimes Joanns has a sale on batting but the best price I have found so far has been Walmart on-line.  I can buy a 96” x 9 yard Bolt of Poly Batting for just $30 on Walmart on-line. This bolt will make 4+ quilts depending on the size of the quilt and I will have lots of left overs for smaller projects like pillows, etc.  For me the best part is that because it’s 96” wide, I don’t have to piece together my batting before I can sandwich my quilt!

[accio-victuuri]

time to make lemonades again 🍋🍋

inspired by a previous post i made because something similar happened and here we are. i think that the negative take on these similarities is that the other person/brand is “copying” the other. or one is trying to rub off the popularity of xx. which is a common source of conflict between fans, not just xz’s or wyb’s. and since the topic is trending we have more information of these alleged brand traitors who feed the cpf machine. lol.

this post made by jeanswest with the kadian 10:05 for xz even if their endorser is wyb. tho i went to their weibo and didn’t see this post all when i was trying to confirm. so maybe it was deleted? the next one is hilarious cause they are implying that JW is taking inspiration from xz for their designs like the little prince and tennis. even if the whole line yibo is endorsing have nothing to do with these styles. AHHHH! they are so much better in connecting things that have no relation at all. 😂

and it’s so embarrassing how confident they are that this is copying. xz does not own TLP or the sport of Tennis. no matter how much they associate those things with him. atleast with cpfs, we can give disclaimers but solos being so sure that there is just no other way that an international brand can come up with these designs — other than them wanting to leech from xz is next level unhinged.

but still thanks for the candy i guess?

next up is, p1 a li-ning cap that has 85 on it. but it’s actually a back to the future themed drop. a film that was released in 1985. tho maybe they are angry cause li-ning is a repeat offender. p2 is opening of li-ning’s store and the lottery includes a chance to win a casio watch which wyb was endorsing at the time.

for xz’s zwiling endorsement before, one of the things highlighted by the brand is this machine. idk what. but it said something about brewing coffee at 97 and tea at 85. lol and who are associated with those numbers? wyb!!!! hahahahahahaha!!!!

sometimes i wonder who is the real candy lovin cpf.

moving on….

p1 is by kaixiaozao brand, they posted about a product that has dandan noodles that will make you think of the ancient times. dandan being something that is nicknamed for wyb, and ancient times pertaining to lwj and wyb. p2 is absurd, they are so angry at mengniu cause they replied to a cpf. yes it was xposted on the supertopic, but the account was asking a genuine question of how to purchase. so they answered. as much as so/os want the loyalty of these brands, their main goal is money. they will follow the money. that means more people buying their products. they didn’t choose xx or xxx out of the goodness of their hearts, their teams do research on who to hire and who can bring in more 💰.

another problematic thing done by mengniu before ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

#strawberrymilkbobocup# I know this question! Strawberry and milk go together. It’s the most amazing combination. Let me tell you secretly, add some oats and the taste will be amazing. Someone: I want a strawberry custard cup, but not strawberry. No custard, just...

bobo cup 👀

and what that someone said. they don’t want the strawberry nor the custard/milk. so what does that leave us? Bobo 🤯🤯🤯

this post by i don’t know who that said for roborock, there are a lot of consumers, both peter pan and passion fruit. no lies tho. we do contribute to their sales. it has been that way for a very long time. all these talk of cpfs only love xx or xxx is brainless so/o agenda. they just don’t understand the fact that we can support both and we’ve been doing so for years now. they cannot comprehend it, so they twist it into a narrative that fits them.

lastly, p1 is by bubly and on the can has 85. p2 is zhenguoli and on the poster, they used lwj’s famous tagline ( i wanna take someone back… yep, the same one he said in ttxs )

i’m even seeing one shared the fact that xz allegedly rented a car that has 805 on the license plate. so he must be promoting cp right? 😂😂😂 idk.. maybe it caught his eye because of his boyfriend and didn’t think people will take photos of his car and license plate to speculate on. and their hateful interpretation of what we would say is CPN:

1. The license plate number chosen when renting a car is Wang Yibo’s birthday “805”

2. The name of the shoes worn has Wang Yibo’s abbreviation “Web” ( this refers to gucci re-web )

3. The photo XZ posted on that day ( when he was in Milan and only took photos of his shoes ) imitated Wang Yibo’s photo from last year’s GQ Gala.

Summary: If there is only a single factor, it can be explained as coincidence together, but so many "coincidences" gathered on the same day, it must be "intentional"! XZ has been using this method for the past 5 years … Hype male-male CP in a “both subtle and obvious” way!

I don’t usually post anti or solo rhetoric here unless it’s amusing and this is an example of that. lol. so they do believe those things are connected? that it’s too much of a coincidence???? it’s just that their conclusion is way off compared to a cpf’s. 🤣🤣🤣

that’s all i have for now. i skipped the others, and surprisingly a good number is how angry they are at li ning’s skateboard series. lol.

-END.

[fickleminder]

seven supervillains and one (1) normie

You move in with seven normal, law-abiding housemates.

Here’s my piece for @obeymezine! Leftover sales are live till Dec 15th, so do consider supporting us since all proceeds will be going to charity :)

Lucifer looks even more handsome in person.

You find yourself paying more attention to him and the deep timbre of his voice than the tour of Serenity Manor and its rules. Only a firm call of your name snaps you back to the present.

“This will be your room,” he says, opening one last door for you to step through. It’s decently furnished with all the basic necessities and has an en suite to boot. How generous. “Is this to your satisfaction?”

“Oh absolutely, everything looks great!” You wheel your luggage into a corner and set your backpack down on the large study table. “I still can’t believe I got matched with you guys for the boarding program. Thank you so much for having me!”

“The pleasure is ours.” Lucifer gives you a polite nod. “Make yourself at home, and I will introduce you to my brothers tomorrow. We hope you’ll enjoy your stay here with us.”

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.

“Surveillance systems are online,” Levi reports as all eyes watch you unpack on the screen. “Ugh, bugging rooms is so old school. It’s only the first day, I doubt there’ll be any suspicious activity.”

“And it better stay that way.” Satan’s already profiling you from your posters on the walls, your stuffed sheep on the bed, your clothes in the closet. No red flags yet, as far as he can discern.

“Pfft, what can one exchange student do to us?” Mammon scoffs. Your background check was clean, your documents checked out. In every practical sense, you were an ordinary postgraduate taking courses at the local university for a year. “Loosen up guys!”

Lucifer shoots him a glare indicating he has no intention of doing so. “No funny business. It’s unfortunate that we have to go undercover in our own home, but Elysium’s agents are on to us. We need to mask our activities and blend in, and we have no choice but to wait for them to leave. Until then, continue to follow Prince’s orders, but keep things low-key. Do I make myself clear?”

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“—massive destruction of property at Settler’s factory premises. Witnesses say it was Gluttony in another one of his rampages, and this marks the fourth attack in…”

You glance towards a face-palming Lucifer at the breakfast table. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, perfectly fine.” He smiles through gritted teeth and switches off the TV, silencing the news.

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.

You have a few days before classes officially start, so you decide to take some time familiarizing yourself with the town. Lucifer has graciously agreed to escort you, along with one of his brothers.

“And that’s about it, really. Is there anywhere else you wanna go?” Belphie asks after they’ve given you a cursory tour. You mention wanting to return to the confectionery shop you passed by a while back, and he smirks. “Sure, but if you’re looking for Settler products, they might not have much stock.”

“That’s alright! They used to be one of my favorite brands you know, but then I found out they engaged in a lot of questionable business practices. It’s a shame really, I liked their stuff.”

Lucifer feels his work phone vibrating in his pocket all of a sudden and curses mentally. What could Barbatos possibly want at this moment? “Apologies, I… have to use the washroom,” he excuses himself in a hurry, discreetly signaling Belphie to cover for him before running off.

Almost half an hour passes with no Lucifer in sight.

“He’s been gone for a while. Should we go and check up on him?” You ask worriedly.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Belphie sniggers. “He usually takes really long shits anyway. Let’s just go. He’ll catch up eventually.”

Lucifer meets you back in the manor at the end of the day, and you miss the dirty look he sends Belphie behind your back after you recommend some home remedies for treating diarrhea.

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“Satan, I need some advice!” The blond follows your voice to the kitchen and freezes when he sees you holding his collection of hunting knives. For gutting people, not cutting meat. “I’m making lunch. Which of these are for fruits and vegetables?”

This is why Lucifer always nags us about picking up our toys, Satan realizes belatedly. Fuck, he probably left them out on the couch or something. At least he’d remembered to clean off the blood first. “Those aren’t for cooking. They’re for, uh, self-defense.” Idiot, is that the best you could come up with? There’s no way it’ll—

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have assumed.” You gasp and quickly return the knives to him. “One of my old roommates used to sleep with a dagger under their pillow, though I personally prefer to keep a baseball bat next to my bed. Besides, didn’t some rich politician get murdered in his own house just recently? The manor seems secure and you guys have Cerberus, but better safe than sorry I guess.”

Satan is still reeling from your sheer obliviousness, but he knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I completely agree,” he says with a poker face.

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Mammon’s Lexura is a sight to behold, but you’re more interested in how fast she can go.

“Oi, I know you’re worried about your friend but keep your oily fingers to yourself, you hear?” He grumbles, opening the garage door for you and Beel to enter. “Which mall was it again?”

“The one with Bullseye,” you reply distractedly, furiously tapping away on your phone. “I can’t believe she and her girlfriend got harassed in public. You only read stories about this happening to other people online. What kind of fucked up organization calls themselves a charity and— Shit!”

You trip on something and drop your phone. It bounces and skids under Mammon’s car, but Beel instinctively steps forward before you can even react. With one arm, he tilts the vehicle just enough for you to duck under and retrieve it.

“Wow, thanks so much Beel!” You dust your phone off and check for cracks on the screen while Mammon sweats buckets behind you. “You gotta share your workout routine with me sometime. Hey, do you mind coming along and being our muscle for the day?”

“Okay.” Beel agrees easily, and you pump your fists.

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.

“—worth millions. The curator declined to comment…”

“This is crazy, I was there just last week!” You exclaim while chewing on your dinner. “The museum had lots of cool stuff on display. Mostly illegally imported, if you catch my drift, but not anymore huh?”

Asmo winks at you. “What a shame. You could have seen Lust in action first-hand.”

“Aren’t heists supposed to be discreet? He is pretty good-looking though, I’ll give him that.”

“Is he prettier than me?” The entire table goes deathly silent as you squint between Asmo’s fluttering eyelashes and the masked supervillain on the TV screen. “Don’t you think he’d look better with a boob window?”

“…Nah, he doesn’t have the tiddies to pull it off.” Your gaze unconsciously flickers to Beel’s chest. “Plus the butts don’t match. Yours is flatter.”

Asmo’s jaw drops in mock outrage. “Honey, have you been checking me out? How very scandalous of you~”

“Enough, please.” Lucifer sighs amidst your spluttering.

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.

“That’s it. We’re screwed, our cover is blown. I knew this was a bad idea…”

“Let’s just resort to good ol’ fashioned murder and then frame it as a runaway case. No one will ever know!”

“This manor is a fortress located in the safest part of town. What the fuck do you think people will presume there is to run from?”

“There were a couple of close calls, but I think we’re still in the clear.” Beel recalls you quoting your statistics professor after an extended period of time where one of them would come home late the night before a major news event: correlation does not imply causation.

“Need I remind all of you, it was our proposal to join the boarding program as a front. Prince approved it himself, and I won’t allow us to back out now.”

“Shut up, Lucifer. Don’t you have any politicians to assassinate?” Belphie sneers.

“We will see this through.” Lucifer refuses to budge, ever the prideful bastard. “We’re still safe, but keep your guards up. Understood?”

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The kitchen is pitch black this time of night, but Levi’s had years to figure out a way around without alerting anyone he’s back.

“I hate on-site jobs,” he grumbles to himself. “What kind of company doesn’t have remote access to their servers nowadays? Let’s see how they like it when people steal and sell their private data instead, muahahaha— Eek!”

“Hmm? Levi?” You stifle a yawn and shuffle towards the rack of cups. “Why’re you up at this hour?”

Levi is still blinking away the spots in his vision from the sudden onslaught of light when you flipped the switch. He pales as you stare at his costume and equipment on the counter. “Wait, it’s not what it looks like—”

“Late con, huh? Must have been fun. You were still in character there. Heheh.” You pour yourself a glass of water. “Nice cosplay by the way. G’night.”

“G-goodnight!” Levi waits to hear the sound of your door closing before wheezing hysterically in relief.

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You sigh blissfully under the weight of four cats lounging on various parts of your body. “I’ll admit I had my doubts at first, but this is exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Satan takes a long sip of his tea while petting the snoozing tabby on his lap. He looks like one of those criminal masterminds in the movies. “Visiting cat shelters is the best way to unwind after a long week. And don’t worry, I have it on good authority that this one actually takes proper care of our furry friends.”

“That’s reassuring to hear! I’ll never understand why anyone would want to hurt these precious babies.” A little calico wanders near your face and boops your nose with its toe beans. “If only all shelters could be as noble as this one. Remind me to stop by the donation box before we leave!”

“Gladly. Speaking of donations, remember that charity group that messed with your friends? I heard someone stole every last penny from their funds and now they’re on the verge of insolvency. Truly, this is karma at work.”

“Schadenfreude!” You cheer before the two of you clink cups and drink.

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.

.

“Hey, you’ve been in there for a while now. Do you need— Oh.”

“Belphie!” You grin at him sheepishly and fidget with your rubber gloves. “I’m sorry, I’m really bad at this. My old dorm had a janitor, so I’ve never been assigned toilet duty before…”

“No wonder. You’d be dead in minutes if you kept this up,” Belphie snaps, quickly moving the unopened bottle of bleach away from you. “Mixing cleaning products is a sure-fire way to poison yourself.”

You wince at his harsh tone, and Belphie’s expression softens in sympathy.

“Here, I’ll teach you.” And then he proceeds to detail exactly what chemicals are in each product, which combinations produce different kinds of fumes with varying levels of toxicity, how to make odorless gasses that can kill a man in seconds—

“Why’d you stop?” You protest when Belphie abruptly cuts himself off. He’s probably feeling embarrassed about oversharing. “This is super informational. I’d be dead without you!”

“…Right.” He blinks, nonplussed. “You’re welcome, or whatever. Just stay away from the bleach, okay?”

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.

Mammon shuffles the deck with deft hands and explains the rules. “You play as an Elysium agent of your choice, and your goal is to defeat the mob boss terrorizing the city: Jesús Iglesias Ken. The game can be competitive or cooperative depending on which rules we follow, but I say we do competitive mode and bet on the winner!”

“Ugh, shaddup Mammon!” Levi groans while you set up the board and pieces.

“Now, for the characters! We have Kid, a tiny chihuahua of an agent who has lots of good buffs from the sweets he eats. Director, who can move other players during his turn; but don’t get fooled by his smile. He can be super scary sometimes! Spear, man that guy packs a punch. He’s a damage dealer with shitty taste buds.”

Too busy paying attention to Mammon, you don’t see the way Levi makes throat-slitting gestures and mouths SHUT UP SHUT UP STUPIDMAMMON—

“There are also NPCs like Sorcerer, who can help or hinder you depending on your actions, shady bastard. And Aristocrat, who’s on the villain’s side and a total bootlicker, but he gives valuable intel for the right price.”

“How do you know all of this? I don’t see it in the rule book.” You scan the character description section intently. “Don’t tell me… You’re secretly a fan!”

Mammon chokes, finally catching on to Levi’s signals. Both of them exchange wide-eyed looks before forcibly grinning at you. “Yeah, totally, I’m a fan! Hahaha…”

“What a nerd, right?” Levi laughs nervously. “Anyway, this game is more fun with more players, so let’s just play something else for now, okay? Okay.”

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“I’ve got reports that Elysium’s agents are finally moving out. We should be cleared to resume normal operations soon.”

“Our plan worked like a charm! Ooh, we’re so close~”

“Good job, everyone.” Lucifer nods with a satisfied smile. “This will all be over shortly. And just in time too. A year’s almost up.”

Everyone falls silent as their thoughts drift to you. It’ll be quiet without you around; you may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but you were always kind and genuine with all of them. It goes without saying that they’ll definitely miss you once you’re gone.

“We should stay in touch,” Mammon proposes suddenly, looking none of his brothers in the eye. “Y’know, to keep tabs and make sure we weren’t compromised or anything. See things through to the end and all that.”

For once, nobody objects to Mammon’s idea. “Indeed,” Lucifer murmurs in approval.

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“I’ll be on campus studying for my ethics finals. See you all at dinner!”

You set up camp at your favorite corner: a little nook in the section of the library that’s perpetually empty. Just as you make yourself comfortable and open your laptop, someone pings you with an encrypted message.

Grinning to yourself, you easily bypass Levi’s embedded spyware and open up a private channel to take the call. “Barb, it’s so good to hear from you!”

“Good afternoon.” A polished voice greets you from the speakers, and you quickly plug in your headphones to prevent eavesdropping. “Apologies for the disturbance, but I have the data you requested.”

“Thanks Barbatos. You really are the best AI I’ve ever created!”

“I am the only AI you’ve ever created, but the sentiment is acknowledged. Did your side project go well?”

“Always so humble, haha! And yes, it went wonderfully! It’s so good to finally meet the brothers face-to-face. They’re such a lively bunch!”

“I concur. Back to business: the up-and-coming cosmetics company you asked me to look into? It turns out your hunch was right; I’ve found evidence that they rely heavily on animal testing for their products.”

“A job for Belphie then. He’ll know how to put those chemicals to better use.”

“Of course. On a separate note, another political party has been pushing for…”