#and the pink and yellow suit her so well

[whos-hotter-jjba]

Hottest JJBA Outfit Bracket - Higashikata Mitsuba Preliminary Poll

[mmiriozuzo]

Sonadow bouquet, the flowers they are canonically associated with edition

[ihavenointerestinreallife]

family relations | 18+ mdni

everyone knew that where fred went, george was right behind him; even if nobody could tell them apart half the time, two identical ginger boys always signaled trouble. 

when you showed up–someone with a stark difference in look to the two boys–it immediately raised an eyebrow. while not rare to see the two twins apart, it was a sight to see them accompanied by someone other than another member of their family, often at least. 

with the amount of nosy students at hogwarts it didn’t take long until someone got curious. 

“she’s just a part of the family,” george would say. 

“she’s like a sister to us, really,” fred would add not long after. 

— 

holidays with the weasley family were always chaotic to say the least. it seemed every year a new person stayed for christmas in the burrow, most notably in recent years harry and hermione joining their best friend ron–this year, the family home saw you as its new addition. 

the weasley family home had been filled to the brim since the birth of ginny, and the addition of companions only brightened it with more love. 

on christmas morning, everyone who didn’t own one already (or miraculously lost their original) received their first of molly’s many knitted sweaters, all personalized with their first initial. you’d never forget the first christmas you reunited with the twins wearing their own sweaters. 

“did mrs. weasley make those so she could remember which of you is which?” you asked. 

“mother says she could never forget who is who, which i guess is why i’m wearing his sweater, and he’s wearing mine,” fred would reply. 

when the day came for you to receive your own, the twins had visibly outgrown the jumpers you first saw them in, instead adorning new pairs to fit their growing builds. 

“molly, it’s beautiful! i dreamed of the day i’d get my own,” you said, running your fingers along the woollen fabric. 

“i’m glad you like it dear- and look, now you match freddie and georgie.” 

your head whipped in the direction of the two boys to confirm her words, and she was right. you matched fred and george from the overall blue color to the yellow letter. 

the way they looked at you then, you knew you could get used to matching sweaters. 

— 

you were purely friends with the twins up until your shared sixth year when they went to the yule ball with angelina johnson and katie bell. sure, the way they looked at you for the past year and a half had you questioning everything you felt for them. and sure, having them next to you at every given moment–closely, at that–made you think things friends wouldn’t dare say out loud- but this was a whole new level. 

molly had sent all the hogwarts attending weasley children outfits to wear to the ball; ginny a bright pink and mint gown, ron a very explicit hand me down likely of bill or percy’s, and the twins looked dashing in their matching suits. but you knew they could look even better, each hanging off one of your arms. 

instead you had the pleasure of watching both fred and george dance multiple rounds with their dates, while you sat next to harry and ron, also bummed out by how terrible the evening had gone. 

“they wanted to go with you, you know.” 

you jumped, turning your head to hermione who seemed to be itching to escape the crowd. 

“don’t be silly hermione, we’re just friends.” you muttered as you chewed on your lips, effectively removing them of any color you stained them with. “besides, you saw how eager they were when they asked angelina and katie in potions.” 

“or they were just trying to tease ron, you know how brothers are.” hermione looked at you with pity, as if there was someone she had hoped would ask her to the ball as well. 

the moment you decided to guess who she’d hoped would have asked her, your eyes scanned the crowd for either fred or george. it was futile for a second, until on either side of the floor you noticed both twins sneaking a glance back at you, both still occupied in dances with their dates. 

“hermione,” you began, tone laced with shyness despite how loud the music drowned your words out, “how would i know if my feelings surpassed friendly?” 

— 

it only took a day for feelings to be admitted by all three parties, only taking half of another for you to find yourself sandwiched in bed by both of the twins. robes had been discarded by the door, and you weren’t even sure you’d be able to find your scarf considering how long it had been gone. 

the boys sat knee to knee with you straddling both their laps, george to your front and fred to your back. they worked together to pull your hair off your neck, and then to unleash your tie from its collar, effectively exposing your bare skin to them. 

it didn’t feel real when the warmth of fred’s lips ghosted your skin, not even a semblance of it when they finally latched on. the amount of times you dreamt of them touching you intimately could not have prepared you for the feeling. 

“does it feel good when he kisses you like that?” george teased knowing you wouldn’t be able to catch your breath in time to reply. 

“yes georgie- fuck,” you moaned as fred bit down and sucked like a man tasked with marking you as his own. “freddie, people will see..” 

“let them love, they’d put the pieces together soon anyways.” he bit down again only a couple inches away from the first love bite, effectively securing the notion of nosy onlookers creating their own story to tell off. 

and tell off they would when every week new patches would show on your neck. the twins took turns marking you in places just indecent enough to turn heads, but not enough to solidify any real narrative about the three of you. 

a couple of weeks of people swearing they saw you snogging both twins at once in the gryffindor common room had at least one person becoming bold enough to ask you how you really felt about fred and george:

“they’re like my brothers, really.” 

— 

happy valentine’s day

[threadbearsweater]

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hogwarts Robes (From Quotes)

So, I decided as a sequel to this post and as part of my (and @wisteria-lodge's who I talked to about this) quest to understand wizard fashion, I collected all quotes referring to their school robes (and some that don't, but have implications™️ about their robes) to once and for all have the most definitive, book-canon image I could make for their school robes.

(Quidditch robes will be coming at a later date)

They aren't worn with trousers

I previously established that Hogwarts robes don't seem to be worn with trousers. Snape, Harry, and Ron are all implied to not be wearing trousers under their robes, along with everyone else:

James whirled about; a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of graying underpants.

(OotP)

He got up and pulled on his jeans because he didn’t want to walk into the station in his wizard’s robes — he’d change on the train.

(PS)

Everybody except Harry was riotously happy and talkative as they changed out of their robes into jeans and sweatshirts

(OotP)

Below the robes, there will be a long undershirt/shift and modern underwear (explained in more detail in the post linked above).

The length

Hogwarts robes are long. They billow around the student's feet:

He [Percy] had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes

(PS)

Their robes billowed and swirled around them as they splashed across the flooded vegetable patch to double Herbology

(OotP)

And cover your shoes, and are floor length:

Ron’s showing much too much ankle in his school robes

(HBP) - said by Molly.

Ron’s were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them.

(PS)

Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly.

(GoF)

It means students need to get used to moving in a floor-length garment and not step over the hems constantly — which is probably a struggle for first-year muggleborns.

(The scene where Harry stepped on his robes is when he's called up as a Triwizard Champion — so in a moment of high stress, he might step on his robes)

(Another note, not all robes are floor length. Dumbledore is often described as wearing "full-length wizard robes", meaning they are floor-length, but some characters have robes that leave their shoes visible for Harry to describe)

The collar

Hogwarts robes are cut similarly to some men's dress robes. This makes sense, the way school uniforms are formal-looking and a person unfamiliar with the culture could think a dress suit and a school uniform look similar.

In some trepidation, Harry opened the last parcel on his camp bed. It wasn’t as bad as he had expected, however; his dress robes didn’t have any lace on them at all — in fact, they were more or less the same as his school ones, except that they were bottle green instead of black.

(GoF)

We know robes come in different cuts and not all are considered "dress robes" and it isn't just a matter of color & fabric (though it is that too. Dress robes tend to come in nicer fabrics such as velvet. (Dumbledore is practically always wearing dress robes)):

Like her father, Luna was wearing bright yellow robes, which she had accessorized with a large sunflower in her hair. Once you got over the brightness of it all, the general effect was quite pleasant. At least there were no radishes dangling from her ears. […] “You look smart. I told Daddy most people would probably wear dress robes, but he believes you ought to wear sun colors to a wedding, for luck, you know.”

(DH)

Pansy Parkinson in very frilly robes of pale pink was clutching Malfoy’s arm.

(GoF)

There was just no getting around the fact that his robes looked more like a dress than anything else. In a desperate attempt to make them look more manly, he used a Severing Charm on the ruff and cuffs. It worked fairly well; at least he was now lace-free, although he hadn’t done a very neat job, and the edges still looked depressingly frayed as the boys set off downstairs.

(GoF)

“Yes, my tiara sets off the whole thing nicely,” said Auntie Muriel in a rather carrying whisper. “But I must say, Ginevra’s dress is far too low-cut.”

(DH)

And we know, thanks to Draco, a high collar on a black robe is considered formal dress robes cut for men:

Malfoy was in front; he was wearing dress robes of black velvet with a high collar, which in Harry’s opinion made him look like a vicar.

(GoF)

And Hogwarts robes have a similarly high collar that keeps it's shape:

Turning up the collars of their robes against the chilly September air

(OotP)

This collar is wide enough to be pulled on like a dress over their heads:

Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

(PS)

And for Hermione and Marriatta to hide their faces in:

They heard the lock slide back and Hermione emerged, sobbing, her robes pulled up over her head

(CoS)

and Marietta gave a wail and pulled the neck of her robes right up to her eyes

(OotP)

But it still needs to keep its form (as mentioned before).

We know there are no buttons, since Harry mentions buttons on other outfits, but not on his school robes:

“Now then,” said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest so that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst off

(HBP)

The beaded bag containing all of their possessions (apart from the Horcrux, which Harry was wearing around his neck) was tucked into an inside pocket of Hermione’s buttoned-up coat. 

(DH)

Nor do they have laces, since Harry would probably mention fiddling with them or tugging on them if they were there.

So I concluded the collar is held in place by a single small metal hook/clasp like this:

That is swen onto the robes themselves.

The belt

The billowing, loose-fitted robe is held in place with a sturdy belt:

Harry tucked the sword and the Sorting Hat into his belt, Ron took hold of the back of Harry’s robes

(CoS)

That can hold wands, swords, etc, easily.

This belt is the only thing that gives the robes their shape, as the only things that Madam Malkin seems to be tailoring/adjusting are the sleeves' hems and the length of the garment:

Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

(PS)

So, there is a lot of access fabric, and the robes aren't tailored to the body. They are barely tailored at all, which explains why all students are expected to get them; they are very simple, very simple garments.

The Pockets

Their school robes come with multiple large pockets. They are either actually big, or they are enchanted to make them big, as when Harry is wearing his school robes, he puts everything in his robes' pockets.

His wand:

Harry took off his black school robes, removed his wand from his pocket

(GoF)

Choclate Frogs:

Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

(PS)

His knife:

“Sirius’s knife!” said Harry, and he pulled it out from inside his robes and slid it into the crack between the door and the wall.

(OotP)

The Mauraders Map:

“Mischief managed!” The map went blank at once. He folded it carefully, tucked it inside his robes

(PoA)

He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes. 

(PoA)

And even the Invisibility Cloak on occasion:

There was a knock on the door. Harry hastily stuffed the Marauder’s Map and the Invisibility Cloak into his pocket.

(PoA)

The pockets have a lot of space.

And there are multiple pockets per robe (it seems):

“No idea,” said Harry. But Ron was examining Harry’s robes. All the pockets were hanging out.

(CoS)

The Sleeves

Contrary to popular interpretations, the sleeves are not wide, as they can be rolled up or pushed up to their elbows, and they stay there:

Harry felt a lurch of fear. He wasn’t ready. How could you make a dementor less frightening? But he didn’t want to ask for more time; everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves. […] They all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.

(PoA)

Which implies they are tighter around the wrist at least, but not overall tight. As they are large enough for Ron to slip his wand into:

“Now, don’t forget, it’s Locomotor Mortis,” Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.

(PS)

If the sleeves were very tight, Harry would mention it. He would also mention if the sleeves were particularly wide, which is why I think the sleeves look something like this:

Tighter around the wrist to allow pushing them up to the elbows or be rolled up, but wider above to make them look like a robe, but not super billowy, so they don't get in the way.

The color

Hogwarts robes are black:

pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes.

(PS)

Harry took off his black school robes

(GoF)

Harry noticed that Ron kept moving his prefect’s badge around, first placing it on his bedside table, then putting it into his jeans pocket, then taking it out and laying it on his folded robes, as though to see the effect of the red on the black.

(OotP)

And they look the same for all houses. In the books, there is no house indicator on a person's robes beside their prefect badge if they have one or a scarf/rosette.

In PoA, when all the students are in identical sleeping bags, Harry can still tell the house and year of the speaker:

“It’s very lucky he picked tonight, you know,” said Hermione as they climbed fully dressed into their sleeping bags and propped themselves on their elbows to talk. “The one night we weren’t in the tower. . . .” “I reckon he’s lost track of time, being on the run,” said Ron. “Didn’t realize it was Halloween. Otherwise he’d have come burst- ing in here.” Hermione shuddered. All around them, people were asking one another the same question: “How did he get in?” “Maybe he knows how to Apparate,” said a Ravenclaw a few feet away. “Just appear out of thin air, you know.” “Disguised himself, probably,” said a Hufflepuff fifth year.

(PoA)

In CoS, Harry doesn't know Myrtle is a Ravenclaw; that information is from tertiary canon and not the books. This implies there is nothing on their robes to give them away.

Harry can tell who's from what house because he recognises students' faces/voices and knows what house they are in, not because their robes have a marking of their house — they don't. The fact that he tends to know other students years often, supports this:

The following day, two more girls asked him, a second year and (to his horror) a fifth year

(GoF)

“Hold it!” said Hermione, throwing out an arm and halting a passing fourth year, who was attempting to push past her with a lime-green disk clutched tightly in his hand.

(HBP)

He knows random students' year, not just house. He just recognises them because Hogwarts is a small school.

Shoes

They don't have school shoes. Shoes are not mentioned in the school supply list before first year. They wear socks with their shoes of choice:

He and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron’s were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them.

(PS)

narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at Harry’s feet, sending a wave of cold water over his sneakers into his socks. 

(GoF)

and laced up Goyle’s boatlike shoes.

(CoS)

Fabric

Since Hogwarts is in Scotland, where it is cold, the material is kind of important. We know the material is sturdy enough to hold the high collar in place (as mentioned above).

And we know it isn't silk and is warmer than that:

They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. 

(GoF)

Though, not that warm:

The temperature dropped with every step they took. As Harry shivered and drew his robes tightly around him

(CoS)

(Nor does it seem to have warmign charms)

As Harry always puts on a cloak when he's cold.

My assumption is that Hogwarts robes are made of wool. Wool is a natural fibre that has been common for clothes since humans started making them, basically. It's great at insulation and regulating body temperature (both in warm and cold climates), breathable, and durable. It should be washed by hand, though, as they wash it with magic, it's probably alright. In addition, I believe they wear an undershirt/shift under their robes, which means there isn't skin contact and won't need to be washed often.

The cloak

The robes come with a black winter cloak:

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

(PS)

They have a high collar fastened with a silver clasp/pin:

their cloak collars turned up against the wind.

(OotP)

Yeah, Hogwarts cloaks have a high collar that can be turned up, not a hood. Harry mentions hooded cloaks a lot — Hogwarts robes/cloaks do not have hoods.

It has pockets like the robes:

"Hermione looked very cross indeed and stuffed her box of badges back into her cloak pocket."

(GoF)

It is long (floor-length) and billowy:

their socks and the hems of their cloaks soaked and freezing

(PoA)

Drawing their cloaks more closely around themselves

(GoF)

Hermione bundled up Crookshanks in her cloak

(GoF)

As Hermione keeps Crookshanks in it, and the hems reach the floor like the robes.

Other Accessories

They have Hogwarts house-themed accessories such as scarves, gloves and rosettes:

Three-quarters of the crowd was wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them

(PoA)

Hermione and Ginny sat down opposite them wearing red-and-gold scarves, gloves, and rosettes.

(OotP)

She [McGonagall] was wearing a Gryffindor scarf, but tore it from her throat with shaking hands as she strode toward them, looking livid.

(OotP)

walking down to the Quidditch pitch with Ron, Ginny, and the others. It was almost unbearable to turn away from the mass of students streaming out into the sunshine, all of them wearing rosettes and hats and brandishing banners and scarves

(HBP)

Students and professors both own these items. Maybe there is a shop in Hogsmead for them, though, I'm pretty sure some of them are homemade by students.

Prefect badges:

and Harry noticed a shiny red and gold badge on his chest with the letter P on it

(PS)

A large P was superimposed on the Gryffindor lion. He had seen a badge just like this on Percy’s chest on his very first day at Hogwarts.

(OotP)

A boy [Tom] of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect’s badge was glinting on his chest.

(CoS)

And Quidditch captain badges:

“Wow, I remember when Charlie wore one of these,” said Ron, examining the badge with glee. “Harry, this is so cool, you’re my Captain — if you let me back on the team, I suppose, ha ha. ...”

(HBP)

Along with any other jewellery or accessories, students make or buy for themselves. (Such as Luna's radish earrings or Parvati's butterfly hairpin)

The Hat

They have a pointed black wizard hat that comes with their uniform:

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

(PS)

They seem to be wearing it in the opening feast:

Through the forest of pointed black Hogwarts hats, Harry saw a long line of scared-looking first years filing into the Hall.

(CoS)

It was a sea of pointed black hats; each of the long House tables was lined with students, their faces glimmering by the light of thousands of candles, which were floating over the tables in midair.

(PoA)

But it is optional most of the time. Though we do see them wear it:

A boy [Tom] of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect’s badge was glinting on his chest.

(CoS)

“Maybe I’ll skive off Divination,” he said glumly as they stood again in the courtyard after lunch, the wind whipping at the hems of robes and brims of hats. 

(OotP)

So the hats are black, pointy, and have a brim (unlike the movie version we see). I headcanon that in British public school fashion, the hats are mandatory for the start of term and end of term feasts, along with a few other occasions and optional the rest of the time.

Aesthetics

AKA, the style - how does all of this come together?

Since Harry doesn't think the robes look like anything other than robes (not vicar robes like Draco's dress robes, nor a dress like Ron's dress robes) it means they look unmistaknly like something Harry would think of as wizard robes — which means they look like 1980s Hollywood wizard robes since this would be Harry's frame of reference. In general, the Wizarding World fashion seems to be 19th century, doing a Renaissance fair, if we want to give the style a name. Which leads to a garment that look like this:

For what Hogwarts robes probably actually look like in the books. Sleeves that widen out (though, not as much as the image, probably), a lot of fabric only kept in a shape thanks to a belt, reach the floor, collar held up by a single small metal hook — and wouldn't look like a dress to 11-year-old Harry, but like wizard robes.

And because I couldn't help myself, I took some old artwork of the golden trio and drew the robes and cloaks according to the aforementioned evidence on them like dress-up dolls:

(This is a quick sketch and the prefect badges aren't accurate to the books except for their color and the fact that they exist. Also, the cloak's collar is turned down, because it gives some flare to an otherwise not very interesting outfit and they did say "their cloak collars turned up against the wind", so I think it's canonically plausible)

[lackablazeical]

Redid my Empires season 1 Joel, easily my favorite perspective to watch

While I DO understand the point of the full British suit. I hate it and I wanted to do smthn different

So I took inspiration from Arabic Sultans as well as the Anasazi tribes (the ppl who built the Mesa-Verde ), I wanted to give a colorful but sharp and prideful air to him, sort of like a flashy bird

So mostly pinks, blues, and greens that would stand out strongly against the dusty oranges of the Mesa, as he wants to be seen EASY. His main color is the pinkish-purple of his original jacket w/ complementaries of the yellow and green, with blue to add visual diversity. The patterns are inspired off of north-mexican native weaving patterns & Arabic geometric architecture, but heavily simplified

He has pearls littered around his clothes from Lizzie bc he loves her <33 he has a leaf on his head that he insists is normal and natural bc he doesn't believe in magic (he also ignores his enchanted items)

Joel is also actually usually really dirty/dusty, and he takes extreme care to be presentable to any other rulers, he goes thru like 7 pairs of gloves a day cus they get stained real easily

He's very strong tho, from carrying all the clay/concrete, he can pick up lizzie no probles 💪💪 may redraw Joey next idk

[lovebugism]

shy!reader goes to the pool with Eddie and is too afraid to wear her swimsuit in front of him? Maybe she’s wearing clothes over her bikini/one piece and doesn’t want to undress at first because of her nerves lol

hope u like it! — you still get a little nervous showing your body, but eddie takes it all in stride (shy!fem!r, established relationship, cw for mentions of body insecurity, 1.1k)

Eddie’s rubber flip-flops are much too big on your feet. You fight to keep them on and match his longer strides at the same time. He leads you down the scenic trail of the Harrington vacation home with one hand curled intently around your own. He doesn’t seem phased by the dirt clinging to his bare feet.

“Think Steve’s folks will get mad if we skinny dip?” he jokes over his shoulder, wild curls billowing in the late afternoon wind.

You shrug. “I don’t think they own the lake, so…”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he scoffs.

“Me neither,” you concur with a quiet laugh.

A set of wooden steps lead off the trail and towards the shore. They creak under your weight, ancient and half-eroded with time. Eddie stands beside you on the dock, lips curled into a pink, lopsided smile. “Well, what they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” he quips before reaching for the hem of his shirt.

You giggle when he lifts the fabric up and over his head. His milky white torso is left on display for you, sprinkled with sparse hair and a couple of faded tattoos. His body is lanky and lean — stomach soft with gentle pudge where his happy trail begins. You couldn’t hide your leering if you wanted to.

“You’re crazy,” you say, still laughing.

“Crazy for you,” the boy croons. 

You watch him reach for the buttons of his jeans, fumbling with them for a moment. Your chest swirls with a strange, hollow feeling. “Wait— Are you serious?” you wonder with wide, glimmering eyes. You’ve never felt totally comfortable swimming in a bathing suit, let alone naked.

Eddie shrugs his freckled shoulders and tugs his jeans down his scruffy thighs. “Yeah. Why not?”

He’s left in his thin, plaid boxers now. He doesn’t seem nearly as fazed by it as you do. Heart thrumming like an anxious hummingbird, your eyes dart over your shoulder and back to him. “What if the others see?!”

“Then let ‘em see,” he chuckles, golden like the early setting sun. “Who cares?”

I care, you almost say, ‘cause you’re too pretty, and I’m not pretty enough. 

You swallow your loathing and instead reply, “Steve would never let you live it down if he caught you out here. You know that.”

Eddie’s bare feet pad against the creaking wooden dock. The sound is mostly drowned out by the waves ebbing and flowing beneath you. Nothing could hide the heavenly sound of his laughter, though. “What? That I’m skinnydipping with the prettiest girl in Indiana?” the boy retorts with a boyish chuckle. “I wouldn’t want him to let me live it down.”

You swallow hard, not swayed by the compliment. Your unsure gaze flits to your feet and the black sandals Eddie lent you on the way down. You see his paler, bare ones come into view just before his calloused palms smooth over your waist — above the oversized t-shirt you wear, which also belongs to the boy in front of you.

“I’m just… I’m just kidding, you know? About the skinnydipping thing,” Eddie assures you, suddenly serious and much quieter with it. His head ducks down to catch your falling gaze. His chocolate eyes sparkle beneath the yellow sun. His lips curl into a lopsided smile. “We don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable. We never have to do anything you don’t want, you know that.”

You purse your lips to the side and think for a moment. You’re not nearly as at ease swimming naked as he is, but you’d be silly to turn down the opportunity to be alone with him. You have spent the entire weekend babysitting, after all.

“Can I keep my bathing suit on?” you wonder sheepishly.

Eddie scoffs. “Of course you can! You can do whatever you want, doll. I’m followin’ your lead here.”

He smacks a kiss to your lips, mouth tasting of nicotine, soda, and strawberries — like nostalgia and springtime.

“Can you turn around?”

Eddie meets your coy look with a wider smile. “Yeah. Sure,” he hums and steps back from you to spin on his heel. You know he’ll see you in your bathing suit before you step foot in the water, but you’ve always felt distinctly smothered by his gaze. You don’t feel half deserving of the adoration always swimming in the deep brown of them.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, you know?” he quips without looking at you.

“It’s different,” you insist, pulling your t-shirt up and over your head. You fold it neatly before setting it gingerly on the dock. You’re left in the pretty one-piece you thrifted before the trip — a floral number that dips low at the chest and ties into a bow at the back.

Eddie doesn’t really understand, but he figures he doesn’t have to. He’ll do whatever makes you most comfortable, no questions asked. “Sure,” he nods. “Can I look now?”

You hesitate for a reason you can’t name. You feel more at ease with Eddie than anyone else in the whole wide world — and besides the fact that he’s seen you in much, much less — you shouldn’t be as nervous as you are now.

“Yeah…” you waver.

Eddie peeks at you over his shoulder for a moment before turning to face you fully. His pink lips purse and a low whistle sounds between them. “Damn,” he mumbles.

You fight back a smile and look away from him, wringing your anxious hands into a knot. “Hush…”

“You’re a total smokeshow, baby.”

“Eddie!”

“Don’t know why you wanna hide from me so bad…” he teases lowly, gravitating towards you without thinking. His hands are warm and wide as they smooth over your sides. His palms curl around your lower back and idle there, fingers lingering just above your ass. “All I wanna do is look at you, and you won’t even let me…” he jokes, mostly serious, but with a playful pout on his lips.

Your arms cross between your bodies. You glare up at him with pretty doe eyes that swim with all the love you have for him. You couldn’t pretend to be annoyed if you tried. “It’s ‘cause you’re so nice…”

His brows raise and disappear behind his fluffy bangs. “You’re shy because I think you’re hot?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s weird.”

“Maybe,” Eddie laughs. He figures it’s on-brand enough for him, as the resident freak and all. But loving you has never felt unnatural or strange. It feels normal, like an instinct he’s always had, something he’s always been destined to do. So he just tilts his pretty head and smiles sweetly down at you. “Can’t help it, though.”

[imheretoreadafic]

Headcannon that Bruce keeps a mental record of everyone, he loves' favorite color and takes it very seriously.

Tim? Red. That one is pretty obvious. He also takes favorite colors fairly seriously and will stab someone over getting the red color in Connect Four. Bruce makes sure he gets as many red pens and markers as he craves and always grabs a red option if there is one. He also makes sure to stay within the red range he likes because he doesn't like firetruck red but more of a crimson or cherry red.

Dick? Blue - again, pretty obvious with his suit. But because he's the oldest sibling, he's pretty used to letting the others take the blue things. Bruce tries to make sure he can have blue, too, whenever he can.

Duke? One would assume yellow, but he's actually more of a yellow-orange guy (Yes, there's a different fight me). Bruce makes sure to grab things in that color if it's an option - expect for furniture. Duke thinks that a yellow-orange desk chair/shelf/door/wall, etc, is tacky. He DOES love yellow-orange stickers, though.

Jason likes black... and baby blue. Bruce is one of the only ones who knows about him liking baby blue, and he only knows because he noticed Jason gravitating towards it when he was in a space where he wouldn't be teased for not being super edgy all the time. Bruce thinks it's silly he's embarrassed about liking baby blue - especially because he's just fine dressing in bright pink but he thinks it might have to do with the gentle and childlike association with the color rather than masculinity. Bruce buys him a big, fluffy, and very well-made baby blue blanket for his first Christmas back at the manor and Jason damn near cries.

Damian? Damian was tough to figure out because he thought the idea of favorite colors was silly and childish. So, Bruce originally went with green because of his preference for it in decor and fashion. However, he slowly realized it was indigo. So he bought him brushes with indigo handles and a dog bed for Titus that was indigo and generally just a bunch of small items in indigo over time to not make him seem suspicious. (Damian realized what he was doing despite his best efforts and painted Bruce with his indigo brushes, indigo paint pallet, sitting on an indigo stool because Bruce is shit at being subtle).

Steph? Another fairly obvious one - purple. She loves EVERYTHING in purple, and while Bruce internally gags, he tries to match her energy. Every single gift he gives her is purple if he can help it and is in purple wrapping paper.

Babs likes a golden orange (different from yellow-orange, and once again, I will throw hands over this). He buys (and helps her put them on because its a lot harder than it looks) wheelchair spooks covers in that color for her.

Cass doesn't really have a favorite color per se, but she definitely liked cool tones, pastels and iridescents. She finds bright and neon colors to be a bit overwhelming, but she also doesn't like constant gray scale. For a while, her life felt like a gray scale, and it still does sometimes, but that just isn't who she is. She is thousands of colors, pooling and swirling and constantly changing. And if she wants to repaint something for the seventh time? Goddammit, Bruce is going to help her.

(Do they have Canon fave colors? Idk and idc. Assigning them colors is fun for me and im gonna keep it up)

[bubsmiraculousau]

These r my first brainstorm pages for the ot5 civillian miraculous designs! Some of their styles I imagine would shift throughout the hypothetical series, esp Adrien and Marinette.

Adrien dresses like a little businessman, preppy in the most direct sense of the word, was taught to dress well to leave a good impression. Gabriel believes that every man should just wear a suit all the time, so Adrien's sweaters and khakis are a compromise. He basically only wears neutrals.

Marinette dresses in mainly pink, but dabbles in other colors as well. I think she would always have some kind of comfortable fabric on, and customizes her clothing with embroidery and things like that. I think she also just likes all the rainbow colors too.

Chloe is a true y2k girlie, Megan Fox's character's outfits from confessions of a teenage drama queen is her vibe. Blue, yellow, brown/beige, b&w, are her main look.

Ngl I have no idea what to do with Nino he just dresses like a guy. I think he's the most comfortable in looser clothing. I try to incorporate green into his outfits to tie into the turtle miraculous and him being friends with Adrien. His in-show design literally has like every color in it probably to tie all the characters into each other but it kills me to draw that lol. I'm much better with designing women's clothes...

Alya has tumblr girl style. She loves a black graphic tee and takes black and white pictures of her converse. She basically dresses like the girls I thought were so cool in middle school. Like c'mon she has a blog and Balayage hair, what other style would she be? (Also random fact but when I heard of 'twee' style I thought it just meant all Tumblr girl style not just the peter pan collar stuff lol) I think people call it Tumblr grunge as well? idk

I have a different updated lineup of the civilian classmates and I might make individual posts describing their vibe, background, inspiration, and style because fashion is very important w my characters lol. xx

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ "Embrace sweetness eternal~" - Eternal Sugar Cookie x GN Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: Prompt is Reader willingly stayed in the Garden cause they're with Eternal Sugar :] No spoilers since this outfit is technically an AU

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

When was the last time the sun shone too hot? When the winds chilled your dough, or a meal came to you that was just a little imperfect? Even the smallest of vices felt a million miles away ever since you'd joined Eternal Sugar in her paradise. Your every wish and whim was catered to, and above all else, the Beast of Sloth was by your side the whole way. She'd hold your hand at every opportunity, whisper sweet words in your ears to soothe your sleep. Truly, it was the perfect home, with the perfect life.

That is until a sharp jolt jostled the cloud you'd been sleeping on. Startled, you sat up, seeing two residents of the Garden giving you a very worried look. "Ah- please excuse us!" The first cried "We simply wanted to play for a bit, and-! The ball...". The two inhabitants looked to where their yellow ball was stuck in the front of your soft, wispy cushion. The warm embrace around your waist suddenly receeded. The weight next to you shifted, a ring of flowers atop pink hair stirring. Eternal Sugar sat up from where she'd been napping beside you, fixing the new faces with a strained smile. "You disturbed our rest... now, how shall we punish you?" She spoke, her tone cold on the edges despite her attempt to sound sweet

The two immediately panicked, one practically throwing themself on the ground to bow "Please forgive us! It was an accident!". The other followed suit, keeping their eyes down "Yes, yes! We meant no harm! It was just-". "Just an interruption to my sweetling's rest" Eternal Sugar cut in. She huffed, cupping your cheeks in her palms, expression turning sympathetic "Are you alright, dearest?~". You nodded, giving her a smile "Of course. Accidents happen, right?" You said, turning to the others with a reassuring smile. Eternal Sugar gave them a cold sideways glance "Yes... they do"

She took in a deep breath, moving her hands to cup yours "If you're sure you're alright, I suppose it can be just a warning this time~ run along now!~". You leaned down, plucking the ball from the cloud and gently tossing it in the direction of the other two. The one on the right caught it, nodding vigorously "Yes! I-It won't happen again, thank you!" They said, before they both bolted away. Once it was fully quiet, Eternal Sugar sighed. She scooted closer to you, tucking you into her side "My poor love~ I bet they ruined such a sweet dream from your perfect little head"

"Ah, it's okay" you said, snuggling up into her warm embrace "I could take another in a few minutes, maybe". "Do you not wish to now?" Eternal Sugar asked, frowning a little in concern. "Not just yet" you hummed "I've got many beauties my eyes wish to see before they close again. Especially you, my beloved". You grinned as you saw a deep pink flush her cheeks, and the fond chuckle that followed. "You're such a charmer, my love!~ How lucky I am to be the subject of your sweetness~"

You chuckled as well, right as she pressed her cheek to yours "If my darling can't rest, maybe we can have a meal together~ I've recently gotten in some of the finest jellies. Won't you try some with me?". "I'd love to" you replied, nuzzling into her face. She pulled back, her arms coming under your legs and behind your back. With a gentle motion, she scooped you up against her chest. "I can make it off of the cloud, dearest" you chuckled fondly. Eternal Sugar spread out her wings, fluttering the two of you upright "Ah-ah-ah! My little sweetling doesn't have to lift a thing, that's a promise I made to you~"

With just a few flaps, her wings carried you both to the grass. You carefully got back on your own standing, kissing Eternal Sugar's cheek after doing so. "You should let me spoil you sometime. I'd love to return the favor" you said. That familiar blush returned, her eyes sparkling with admiration "You truly are the sweetest~ come, my love, I have the perfect spot for us~"

With her hand held in yours, the two of you began walking to your favorite snack spot. The easygoing smile was back on Eternal Sugar's face, making you grin as well. She'd do anything to keep you happy, but your heart longed to bring her the same joy. Here, in this paradise you both share, you made a promise in your mind. The blooming bringer of Sloth will one day allow herself to be spoiled by your hands, you were determined to see to it

[zombyjuice]

nights like this —- jj maybank. 🐶🪽🌸☀️

when jj has a crush on a kook but not just any kook.

season one jj i miss you. smut smut smut smut.

i haven’t written in so long wth !

playlist

—————————————————————————

“Mom! That's not fair; Kie gets to stay up all night with those boys, but I can’t have a simple sleepover with my friend." You huff, closing the refrigerator door. "Y/N I will figure that out later. That has nothing to do with this; remember you're grounded." You roll your eyes. “Oh my gosh, that’s ridiculous mom, so what? I brought in a stray cat...”

“and dog, bird, oh yeah, and a SPIDER too, you know I’m scared of those,” she frowns and lowers her tone at the end; you stifle a laugh. “Also that piercing.” Your smile fades away quickly. “It’s a nose piercing! Be glad I didn’t get the lip ... yet. Your mom coughs on her water a bit and slaps your head. “Go. Go!” 

“gladly” throwing your hands in the air and rushing to leave the house bumping into no other than kiera “your introublee” you push past her and she huffs getting prepared for her mothers nagging voice.

You and Kie are twins yet almost nothing alike. Kie is the “stronger one.” She’s louder and more outspoken than you, more chaotic, and not as friendly but caring and kind just like you. You’ve always been a calm, peaceful, gentle soul, bubbly and sweet, feeling everything to the core and loving deeply and strongly, quick to stand up for your friend and not yourself, but as you grow, you find your voice more and more. You both have a little bit of each other.

jj had a thing for kie, but it was more like he had a thing for a lot of girls and especially you, well, mostly you. He tried not to since, unlike Kie, you hung out with the Kooks, and to them, it seemed like the kook year Kie experienced, you got stuck in, and, well, we know how JJ feels about the Kooks, but gosh … he couldn’t help it.

He noticed things about you that typically other people would point out as weird, at least to the people of Outer Banks, but JJ would say it’s different, a breath of fresh air even. You had pretty, dyed, curly hair and somewhat fair skin that’s always sun-kissed and the prettiest makeup that made your puppy eyes pop, and he noticed the way each piece of jewelry or how you did your makeup was an expression of you on the inside and matched or complimented you perfectly, almost like everything you wore was meant and made particularly for you; he noticed how everything depicted a phase in your life, whether good or bad, and he noticed you even had a palette: teals, greens, yellows, and what suited you the most, pink. You had different pieces of clothes; he could tell you didn’t shop where the rest of the kooks shopped, and he loved your staple piece, your short shorts, and everything hugged you so well. to say the least, he noticed things he had never noticed in anybody. He became so detail-oriented, and he couldn’t understand why he noticed everything about your beautiful, soft soul. 

“Oh, J, hey, you smile softly, waving at no other than JJ. “Hey, princess, still too cool for us?” He smiles smugly, taking his hat off. “Pft, shut up. What are you doing here?” You eye him while you continue to walk, him following closely behind. “Yeah, you know, I just came to drop off your sister, fulfilling my duties as soon-to-be boyfriend.” You raise your eyebrow at this and stop in your tracks, causing him to bump into you as well. “Damn—” 

“You? and Kiara? I thought she had, like, a thing for John B." You say, questioning his intentions, “Yeah, maybe. I dunno... Why do you care?" He rolls his eyes as if he won an argument you guys aren't even having; you chuckle and continue to walk with him at your side. “I don’t care! I’m just asking a question on the topic; I can’t ask a question? about my sister?” You nudge at his shoulder, and he smirks, staring down at you. “Yeah, whatever, princess.”

“so where are we going?” “i’m going away from you asshole.”

—-

“Hey Dad, hey Mom, where’s Kie?” You sigh, putting everything on the counters and going to give them kisses on the cheek. “In her room getting ready… She’s punished, and she has to bring you to hang out with those pogues.” You cringe. “Wow, what a great punishment! and Pogue's mom, really, what a dumb name. That’s just so dumb it makes me mad." You say quickly, making your mom chuckle, “Yeah, yeah.” 

You didn't mind this happening more often, and you're open to hanging out with anybody you like, Kie's friends, especially JJ. It's like you're a part of them but just not all the way, not willing to give up your friendships with certain people over a dumb name.

You make your way up the stairs and into your room, making sure to shout a quick “Hurry up!” to Kie in the process. In your room, you try and get yourself a little dolled up. You don’t want to admit it, but it’s for JJ. You wanted weird things when it came to him, like you wanted him to think you’re pretty or… take off your clothes, but that’s a different story. 

You found everything JJ did so interesting, and you always wanted to get to know him more, but more than ever, you felt connected with him, like he was a part of you. When you saw him, your heart softened, and you wanted to just kiss all his worries away. You could tell he was sad, but he brought light to whatever darkness he was around, just like you. 

You giggle thinking about his goofy antics and fix up your makeup and hair. putting it up and continuing everything else you put on a cute but comfy outfit with your favorite low-rise Converse with pink laces and spraying a perfume that smells almost of laundry detergent, your favorite smell.

and you leave and wait for Kie on the porch. As the door flung open, you start walking towards your bike and Kie in front of you. “Hey, uh, where are we going anyway?” and Kie looking strangely tense. smirks, “Keege time, baby.” She slaps on the bike and hops on.

You smile a bit and shrug. What happens, happens.

—-

You already know the drama that’s about to unfold, and maybe, just maybe, you're secretly excited. especially as a kook hanging out with her kook sister who’s hanging out with her Pogue friends.

“Okay, here we are; gimme your bike.” You gladly hand it over to her and start your walk to everyone. 

“Hey, is that Y/N?” John B ran up to you. “Wassup? Haven’t seen you in a while, dude. Come help; we’re just starting everything. C’mon, Kie!” 

You look behind him to see Pope waving and JJ stupidly saluting you; you try and hide your smile, making your way towards them. “Hey, Pope,” you say softly, giving him a hug. “Hi, Y/N, I’ve missed doing your work in class. You know you could really—” JJ lets out a loud sigh and throws his hat at Pope's head. “Dude! Leave me alone!” He grabs at his hat and throws it back, and you giggle. “Hi, asshole.” JJ looks up at you and puts his hat back on and stands up from the huge branch. “What’s up, princess?” he smiles smugly, shoving his hands into his pocket. “I like this top; he pinches at it, and it slaps back on top of your skin, strangely making you blush and your stomach turn just a bit. You swat his hand away. “I don’t care. "Don't touch me?” you say in a teasing voice; you made him laugh. “Can you shut up? stop talking?” He started down at you and shoved you playfully, letting a giggle out, then a shriek, when he threw you over his shoulder and started running towards the water. “JJ, I’m going to kill you!” 

“Can they stop flirting it’s disgusting.”

—-

As everyone started to pile up, the more looks started to notice you on the other side, including Sarah, who gives you a… strange look. You can tell what she wanted to say: ‘What are you doing there with them?’ but you ignore it, continuing to talk with Pope about stupid stuff. “Okay, so why did NASA switch from the water to the shitty space dude? There are aliens down there.” “Define an alien right now, Y/n.” 

—-

It got darker, and more people came and went, and you could sense something was about to go down with the way Topper came up to JJ. You turn around to say goodbye to some guest. You turn around again, and boom! Topper and JJ are pushing each other around, John B trying to get in the middle. “Shit... idiot.” 

You quickly stand up and rush to the area. John B. now taking a blow from Topper and another guy trying to shove JJ, “Hey… hey! Get off him! J, come on, stop it!” You grab him by the shoulder, and it took him a second, but he listens. Surprisingly, you dust him off and look up at him. worry and concern all over your face, “Don’t do that, JJ; you can get hurt or hurt someone else.” If it weren’t for the fight happening just right next to you, JJ would want to kiss you, but he had to ignore the butterflies and your loving look, and he had to watch John B and Topper fight, ready at any moment to jump in. You turn your attention to Sarah, who’s screaming her boyfriend's name, and it all happened so fast. JJ is over Topper with a gun to his head; your eyes widen. “how the hell does he have that?” “JJ, stop it!” “Can you check your psycho friend?” Sarah shouts at Kie, who’s now next to you, “Can you check your psycho boyfriend?” You shout back, “Yeah, he tried to drown him!” Kie screams, “JJ, let go of the gun!” 

—-

“So you mean to tell me you found a crash. went onto it. found a key. decides, "Hey, let us go to this random hotel the day after a hurricane," finds money! a gun! then finds out it is now a part of an open investigation! your dirty, sticky fingerprints all over the place! and THEN you bring out that same gun! around a whole bunch of kooks, JJ, are you kidding me? How dumb can you be?" You shove your face into your hands. "I really don't feel like being lectured right now. He was going to drown him, Y/N/N. What else could I have done?" You look at him with a straight face. “Literally anything else.” 

“Whatever, dude! It happened already. What do you want me to do? Hold on. Why do you even give a shit? 

It’s still dark out, and you're outside by the hammock, JJ sitting down on the ground and you standing in front of him. Everyone else went home, and John B is inside.

“I don’t know, JJ, maybe because I care about you.” Your tone softens. “That’s really stupid; you can get in a lot of trouble,” you say, looking down. He stands up and makes his way towards you, feeling the tensions rising already with each step. You look up. “You’re lucky you’re so likable; you would’ve been in juvie by now.” He smiles and looks down at you. “I’m likable?” His tone lowers, and that stupid smirk is on his face, his stare heavy and his pupils blown out. “Well, I’ve got nothing to lose, and you’re a part of this now, so it looks like we’re both going to have to be stupid.” 

“Yeah?” You look up; he couldn’t take those eyes you give him. “Yeahh…” He smirks and runs his hands through his fingers, seemingly getting ready to get serious. “I, uh, I’ve missed you, Y/n like a lot. I missed you coming by my house and, you know, helping me when, you know, my dad... Yeah, when I needed someone the most. no one has ever done that for me, so willingly and i don’t know, im not crazy right, cause man it feels like you barely know me but yet know everything and i just want to-”

And without thinking, you throw your arms around his shoulder and pull him into a soft yet passionate kiss, his arms grabbing at your hips, deepening the kiss, leaving you breathless with every pent-up emotion and tension, all in the kiss.

You pull back for a second, catching your breath, his pretty eyes scanning your face. “You okay?” He asks softly, “Yeah,” you say back, taking a moment, his eyes on yours, and you blush. “I really like you a lot,” his eyes and his heart soften, but there’s this feeling of fear as well. “Me too.” And he quickly puts his lips back on yours; this time the kiss is more rough, leaving you breathless. Grabbing at your thighs, he swiftly lifts you up and carries you toward The Chateau. and straight into John B's spare room, laying you down on the bed, continuing the rough kisses, leaving you a whimpering mess.

“Mm, you're so pretty, princess. He lifts your leg up so it’s hanging by his side, and he slowly grinds his hips into yours; you let out a strangled moan into the kiss. “Shit.” 

The window was slightly open, so the cold breeze of the night filled the room's air, cooling you guys down as JJ filled you up to the brim, the moon's light shining just enough so he could see the pretty faces you make with each slow and long thrust. His head goes down to your neck while he whimpers so softly, fighting back the urge to say the three most beautiful words he could only show it as fucks any bad feeling out of you. "Fuck, baby, look at you." 

"What a mess." His thrusts started to become rougher yet still slow, the sound of his skin slapping yours, wet and juicy. You tried to keep quiet, but he fucked you so good you couldn't even think, "Mmph, I can't take it, JJ, too good." You let out with a squeak as he got rougher and rougher, grabbing at your face and kissing you nice and slow. It all was so passionate your heart fluttered with every movement. You could tell the love and care he put into everything; you felt seen; you felt loved. 

"Yeah, baby? You like that? Come on, be good for me, cum." 

You let out a series of the cutest moans he's ever heard. and he felt you make a mess all over his dick as he fucked into you faster. 

"Good girl, baby, good fucking girl," he moans as he pulls out and cums all over your stomach; you whimper, feeling shy. "Come here; do you want more?" He lifted your jaw up to look up at him and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You nodded, "Yeah? You want more?" His smile widened. "Come here." 

He turns around so you're on your stomach but still somewhat on your side; he wants to be able to hit every spot. "Fuck, you look so good; look at that ass, princess." He slaps your ass, not too hard but enough to get you red; you squeal. "Please, JJ, please," you cry, just dumb on his dick; that's all you want.

He doesn't say anything or warn you; he just starts to fuck into you hard and fast. causing a string of cries and moans, "Fuck, look at you. I love seeing you like this, baby."

It was sloppy, and he was quick, but the tempo slowed down, and he grabbed at your hips, slowly letting you bounce on his pretty dick, watching your ass giggle with each bounce, and slowly letting you start to do it on your own. Watching you struggle turned him on in ways he couldn't explain. "We're going to go all night, princess, all night." 

[calummss]

Eye of the Beholder | Penelope Featherington

masterlist

summary: you had liked penelope for as long as you could remember and watched her change for someone else. at least so you thought

pairing: sapphic! penelope featherington x lesbian! reader

words: 1k

a/n: i <3 penelope sm and needed a wlw imagine so bad. spent 1 hour on this so if it’s bad i apologise but it’s 4am and i couldn’t sleep without finishing this story

“Pen!” You called out from the Featherington’s hallway. “Make haste, we are already late. Madame Delacroix promised us those fabrics from Paris and I am in desperate need of new garments.”

Farleigh raised her eyebrows at you but remained silent as she glanced up the stairs to see if Penelope had heard the lady shout from downstairs; improper manners but being late to an appointment was far more rude.

Penelope eventually made it downstairs wearing her bright yellow dress. Penelope hated the citrus colours her mamma always had her wear. You thought it rather suited her. It was a happy colour indeed and she looked the kindest in them. The details were too much—you agreed with Pen on that but she looked beautiful in any colour. How could she not? She had hair, orange like the sunsets over London; rosy cheeks that matched her fiery hair; when she was embarrassed or vexed, feeling too hot or cold, the apples of her cheeks would shine bright alike. She was so very bewitching but you could never tell her. It was unheard of—a woman in love with another? No one ever even uttered a word of queer affections. So you stayed silent and admired her from afar.

“Ready?”

“Indeed.” She beamed, taking your arms and headed towards the carriage that waited outside.

At the Modiste you eyed a pink fabric that Madame Delacroix had laid out for you. Pink like little piglets and flowers, decorated with the most marvellous design of glitter. Penelope had strayed away from the citrus colour and asked Madame Delacroix for the latest fabric from Paris that weren’t orange or yellow.

“Do you think it wise to alter your mamma’s signature colours?” You asked.

“I simply do not understand her fixation on citrus colours. ‘Happy’ colours indeed but it makes me look washed out. Sick even. It is not for me.”

“I think you look pretty.”

“You might be the only one in Mayfair who thinks so.”

“I doubt so,” you walked towards the mirror to stand opposite Penelope, “but if you must know, those colours Madam Delacroix chose rather suit you quite well..”

“You think so?” You swear you saw a tinkle in her eyes.

“Yes.”

Madame Delacroix promised Penelope six new gowns, one to be done in two days time just in time for Lady Danbury’s first ball of the season. It was both Pen’s and yours third season out with no prospects to show. Either men were too interested in you or not. Believed you to be some kind of dog they could just tell about. And with your conveyed feelings you weren’t even quite sure you wanted a love match with a man. A woman sounded much more pleasing but out of reach. Your family; your papa, mamma and younger sister knew of your unwise choices and savoured the word of acceptance over and over again but that it was a fantasy that could never be real. That you had to marry a man and that it would be easier to forget. Society liked women in brothels that performed together. Was queer love only good for the pleasure of others?

It was even harder knowing that Penelope felt for Colin Bridgerton. He barely eyed her and yet her affections were in a box with a key only he could open. Penelope had grown more silent on the matter and not staring too much out of her window. It was odd for Pen not to stare into Bridgerton house but you couldn’t blame her. A flame only lasted so long.

At the ball you had waited by the food table in hopes of Penelope finding you. The two of you enjoyed being stuck to the wall and observing the ton. The most peculiar things did happen when one thought no one was around to see. You saw the Featherington’s arrive when you noticed that Penelope hadn’t taken her cape off and when the staff helped her remove it, Pen stood on top of the stairs like a fallen angel. The green complimented her well. Well was an understatement. It was unmatched. You weren’t even able to get to Pen as the suitors went up one by one.

When the suitors did eventually leave, Cressida had walked up in the same moment and you saw her purposely edging the heel of her foot into her fabric so that when Pen tried to come towards you, her gown had ripped.

“How mortifying! I am so clumsy. My deepest apologies.” She said, cruelty marking her every word.

Penelope stared at you and without warning rushed outside. You followed her after telling Cressida off, hoping she would one day learn her lesson.

Outside Pen started weeping, a sight you wished you wouldn’t have to witness.

“Pen, I am so sorry.”

“I am the laughing stock of the ton even when I change my entire wardrobe!”

“You didn’t have to change to begin with.”

“All night I waited to be noticed. To be admired but who could I blame?” She let out a concealed sigh with a laugh.

“Pen,” you grabbed her hands, “I saw Colin look at you. I am very sure he was engaged by your charm.”

“Colin?” Pen pulled her hands back. “Who said I’m talking about Colin?”

“Are we not?” You asked carefully.

“No, I am talking about you!” She shouted, her chest rising and falling.

“What?” You mumbled.

“All day,” she breathed out, “I waited to be beholden by you. To see you gaze at me in a way that is considered forbidden but you didn’t.”

“I—“

“Nevermind, I should have never said what I said. I’m-a-fool-and-should’ve-stayed-quiet-and—“

“Shut up.” You muttered before kissing Penelope.

A momentarily calmness came over Penelope as she melted into the kiss. You had grabbed her by the face and pulled her in. Her hands held your wrists and she kissed you back so softly, unsure if the kiss was reality or fantasy.

“You have kissed me,” Pen pulled back.

“Shouldn’t I have?”

“I’m not sure, I—“

“Kiss me again.”

And she did. With the same tenderness as before as you nervously waited for the carriage to arrive and to take you two home.

[artbysconnor]

The DnD party from Wildlife SMP in Episode 1! I just couldn't help trying my hand at these designs, since it combines two of my favorite things currently (Dungeons and Dragons and the Life Series) . Lizzie - Goliath Champion Fighter

BigB - Halfling Circle of Dreams Druid

Ren - Fairy College of Lore Bard

Jimmy - Half-Elf Oath of Redemption (Or Oath of Glory?) Paladin

See below for design notes!

Lizzie:

I knew Lizzie would be a Goliath, and was torn between giving her a martial class or making her a War Cleric. In the end, party composition won out, and she ended up a Champion Fighter, but I kept the half skirt design from her cleric thumbnails and gave her a big ol' mace. Given her pink hair is so iconic I didn't want to go full bald, so I made her hair long along the scalp and tied into two buns and a ponytail (not realistic, but it works in the drawing so I'm sticking with it!). I tried to put butterfly wings in her tattoos by her eyes, and added some flowers to further the fairy vibes on her armor and bring in the light blues from her skin as well.

BigB:

I probably was the least sure about what race and class I wanted to go with for BigB. He fluctuated between a Twilight Cleric and a Druid, and between Gnome, Dwarf, and Halfling. I ended up going with a Halfling to match his easygoing attitude, and leaned into his association with the Pale Garden as perhaps a caretaker and watchful hand over the Fey-like landscape as a Dream Druid. I knew I wanted his staff to reflect that by containing a creaking heart, but I also made his armor woven bark from the exteriors of the black and white trees, with flickers of the orange creaking magic within it, and kept his palette somewhat subdued and faded compared to his more saturated normal palette.

Ren:

Our bard Ren is probably the least detailed here on account of scale, but I put just the same amount of thought into his clothes, too! I wanted to work in little details that make use of materials that would be big for his small racial size as a fairy, such as a button for a poleyn, sewing pins for tuning pegs on his lute, and oversized ribbon ties on his costume. The main costume (a doublet and flouncy pants) is inspired by flashy, slashed Renaissance fashions - I think they suit a bard with a bragadocious energy like Ren. I added a tiny 'wolf pelt' as a cape that was probably a rat or perhaps an ermine, and his sunglasses are cut and polished crystal.

Jimmy:

Jimmy, our normal-sized normal man, was always a paladin in my mind. I wanted to put him in predominantly pretty heavy plate armor, almost like he's trying to protect himself at all costs, and pull in references to canaries and birds with the wing motif and feathered plume on the helmet and cloak clasp (and sword, which is now hidden behind BigB). The gold linear details both reinforce the pieces and provide a flash of yellow in his design to balance the cool blues and silvers, and his unpictured shield in my mind has the image of a great golden bird being pierced through the heart by an arrow or spear of some sort - a tragic house crest that Jimmy seeks to bring to glory.

[breezeflows]

The Long Road (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Chapter 3

WOOP WOOP CHAPTER 3 IS HERE AND BOY IS IT JUICY🫣 On a serious note though, we are finally getting into some of the exciting bits of the story!! I’m hoping by the next chapter we will finally be back in the present. No more sad flashbacks!! Also y’all writing Lizzy is genuinely my favorite. If this fic wasn’t about Ford I’d be wifing her up instead😔 Anyways- here’s chapter 3 you lovely souls!

Themes: Consumption of alcohol (reader lowkey gets wasted), major hangover, bill himself is a warning, suggestiveness kind of?? idk, heartache, lizzy is overall an amazing friend, alllll the angst and feelings, injuries, etc okay enjoy!

The drive to Lizzy’s place is quiet, the steady hum of the car engine and the sound of raindrops against the windshield the only background noise. You sit in the passenger seat, watching the trees pass by through the window as you fiddle with the wedding band around your finger. Lizzy glances at you occasionally, a small frown on her face as she senses your mood. She remains silent for most of the ride, giving you space to process your emotions if need be.

It's not long before the car rolls to a stop in front of her apartment building. You reach around to gather your belongings from the backseat and step out into the rainy afternoon. Lizzy follows suit, bright pink umbrella in hand as she leads you towards the entrance.

Once inside the building, she unlocks the door to her apartment building and the two of you usher inside. The soft yellow light of the living room envelopes you, creating a cozy atmosphere in stark contrast to the gloominess outside.

Lizzy begins to kick off her shoes, hanging her keys as she silently studies your face. She can see the turmoil in your eyes, and the uncertainty you’re trying to hide.

“So,” she says gently, breaking the silence. “You okay?”

Your eyes snap out of the daze they were in as you look over at Lizzy, giving her a weak smile.

“Oh, yeah I guess. Things went a lot better than I thought they would.”

Her expression relaxes at your response, a hint of relief showing on her face.

“That’s good,” she says as she walks over to the couch and plops down on it, gesturing for you to do the same. “I was half-expecting a tearful scene or something, honestly.”

You manage a light chuckle at her remark, plopping down on the couch next to her. You pull your knees to your chest as you grab a blanket draped across the back of it, wrapping it around you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Ford took it pretty well, actually. Better than I expected.”

Lizzy raises a brow as she leans against the back cushions, her arms crossing. “Girl, he better take it well after what he said to you. If it had been me, I would’ve dropped his ass on the spot.”

You can’t help but let out a small snort of laughter at her words, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips for the first time in a while. It’s a relief to have Lizzy’s no-nonsense attitude around, her bluntness serving as a much-needed dose of honesty.

“Yeah, yeah Liz, I know.” you admit, the smile still lingering on your face. “I was a little tempted.”

Lizzy grins, satisfied with your response as she reaches over and pats your knee supportively.

“As you should,” she says with a nod. “You don’t deserve treatment like that of any kind, no matter how important his research is to him.”

You frown slightly at her words, opting to pick at the blanket below as a distraction.

“Yeah..”

Lizzy watches your expression carefully, sensing your discomfort. She tilts her head slightly, her gaze searching your face.

“But you don’t quite agree, do you?” she probes gently.

You let out a sigh, unsure how to articulate your feelings as you continue to fiddle with the fabric of the blanket.

“It’s just… complicated Liz,” you say, your voice tinged with guilt and frustration. “Yes, I’m hurt and angry with him, but I also understand where he’s coming from. We’ve been together almost our whole lives, and this is all he has ever worked towards. His research is important to him, and he’s under a lot of pressure.”

Lizzy nods slowly as she listens to your words, her expression a mix of understanding and concern. She reaches over and places a hand on top of yours, stopping your nervous fidgeting.

“I get that Y/N, I do,” she says quietly. “And I’m not saying he’s completely in the wrong. But you shouldn’t have to feel like an afterthought in his life either. That’s not fair to you.”

Your eyes brim with tears at her response, your hand twisting and taking hers tightly.

“I know,” you say, your voice threatening to break. “I just wish we could fix things..”

Lizzy squeezes your hand as your tear-filled eyes meet hers.

“And you will, Y/N. It’ll just take some time.”

A small, wobbly smile forms on your lips at her reassurance, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. The hope that you might be able to fix things with Ford, to find a way to bridge the gap that’s widened between you both, is a small but significant comfort.

“Thank you, Liz,” you murmur, your voice still shaky. “I really hope you’re right.”

Lizzy stands with a smile, her hand pulling away from yours and resting on your shoulder.

“I know I’m right chick, because you two love each other. I’ve seen it.”

Your heart warms at her confidence, a soft smile forming on your lips as you nod.

“Now, how about some pizza?”

The few weeks you spend with Lizzy fly by, days passing in a blur of movies, late-night conversations, and plenty of chocolate induced comfort eating. As the final night of your stay approaches, Lizzy turns to you with a sly grin on her face.

“Y/N, I know you’ve been pretty reclusive the past couple of weeks, but it’s your last night here and I refuse to let you spend it watching crappy movies in my living room.”

She places her hands on her hips and gives you a stern look.

“We’re going out for drinks and that’s final.”

You mope as you walk into her view from the bathroom, your voice annoyed and pleading as you speak.

“Liz, I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m a married woman, and this dress feels less than... modest.”

Lizzy rolls her eyes, her expression clearly unconvinced.

“Girl, you’re not here to pick up someone, you’re here to have fun. And as for the dress I picked out for you, it looks fantastic. Stop overthinking it.”

She gives you a onceover, inspecting your outfit.

“Besides, I’d like to see anyone who tries hitting on you tonight.”

You pout as you watch her, pulling down your dress so it covers your knees.

“I don’t know how Ford would feel about this..”

Lizzy scoffs, shaking her head.

“Ford’s not here, and we both know he should be the last person you’re trying to impress right now. You’re still young, and attractive Y/N, you deserve to enjoy yourself for one night without him on your mind. Not to mention you’ve got to live your life without kids while you can. I know the two of you have talked about it. ”

She grabs the hem of your dress and tugs it back up, flashing you a defiant look.

“And if he has a problem with you having fun, he can talk to me.”

You sigh as you give in, knowing Lizzy wouldn’t be changing her mind about your all’s plans for the night.

“Fine, fine. But we’re not staying out too late, okay?”

Lizzy grins, victorious.

“That’s more like it! And don’t worry, I promise we won’t be out until dawn,” she assures you. “Just a few drinks, maybe a little dancing, and then we’ll come back here. You trust me, right?”

“More than anything Liz.”

And that’s how you find yourself at the bar now, one too many drinks in and slumped against Lizzy’s shoulder.

She laughs at your state, her own cheeks flushed from drinking. She slings an arm around your shoulders, keeping you upright and steady in the booth the two of you occupied.

“Goodness chick, are you already trashed? We’ve barely been here an hour!” she teases, her voice lighthearted and amused.

You grumble something in response, your head spinning from the alcohol in your system. You take another sip from your glass, your tongue loose and inhibitions lowered.

“I blame you,” you slur, pointing an accusatory finger at Lizzy. “You’re a bad influence.”

Lizzy laughs loudly at your accusation, her eyes sparkling. “No one forced you to down those shots, Y/N,” she says, sliding out of the booth with ease. “I’m going to get you some water, alright? You stay right here in your seat.”

You nod lazily at her words, the idea of staying where you are very appealing. You watch groggily as she strides away, her bell bottoms and flare top in tow. She weaves through the crowd to make her way to the counter, your eyes becoming heavy.

Just as you’re starting to doze off from the alcohol, a presence suddenly sits down in the booth across from you. You blink in surprise, your vision clearing slightly as you focus on the newcomer.

Your eyes widen as you recognize your husband’s face, his features strangely serious and intense as he stares back at you. But there’s something off about him… Something otherworldly in his gaze that sends a chill down your spine.

“Well, well,” he says, his voice cool and calculated. “If it isn’t dear Y/N. You look a little worse for wear.”

Your vision blurs as you grip the side of the table, your words slurred as you speak.

“F.. Ford?”

Ford smiles widely, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. The expression is slightly unfamiliar, different from the familiar warmth you’re used to. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“In the flesh, honey,” he drawls, his voice smooth and flirtatious.

“But I see you’ve had quite a few drinks already. Feeling a little dazed? I wonder how Sixer would feel about me seeing you in this state and not him. Hilarious!”

Your arm trembles weakly as you hold yourself up, vision blurring in and out as you sway slightly in your seat.

“Wha.. What? Why are you.. here..?”

His lips curl into a smug smirk as he eyes your disheveled form, eyes lingering on your exposed skin, clearly enjoying your confusion and intoxication.

“Oh, I had a little chat with Fordsy earlier. He agreed to let me take the reins for a few hours…”

He gives a careless shrug. “You know how he is. All work and no play. Figured I’d take advantage of the situation, hell, I even got him a new tattoo!”

You sit there, dumbfounded and wavering in and out of consciousness as your mind tried to process what Ford was talking about.

Ford’s – or rather, Bill’s – eyes rake over you again, giving an exaggerated sigh before his lips turned into a sly grin.

“You really are a sight for sore eyes, I can see why Sixer married you.”

Your thoughts are still spinning from the alcohol, making it hard to focus on the conversation. You struggle to keep yourself upright, your body feeling heavy and numb.

Bill notices your dazed state, chuckling as he gives a mockingly sympathetic tone.

“You look a little out of it, darling. You really shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Especially considering how easy it’d be to trick you into a deal right now.”

Your mind races with confusion as you stand up weakly, your gut telling you something wasn’t right as you sway back and forth, (Or maybe it was the alcohol) your vision blurring as you scan the place in search of Lizzy.

“Going somewhere? Those human legs of yours don’t look very stable!”

You wobble forward, ignoring his protests as you keep moving.

“You really should listen to me if you want to avoid that nasty bruise tomorrow!”

He calls out, and before you know it you trip, and everything goes black.

Hours later… aka early morning.

You slowly open your eyes, your head pounding and your memories fuzzy. You realize you’re lying on a couch in Lizzy’s apartment, a cool cloth pressed over what you assume to be a large tender bruise on your forehead.

Lizzy is sitting perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, her expression a mix of worry and frustration. She notices your eyes flutter open and lets out a relieved sigh.

“Oh thank god,” she mutters. “You had me worried for a second there. I stayed up with you all night waiting for you to wake up.”

“Liz?” you mumble, head pounding. “What the hell happened? My head is killing me..”

Her expression softens at your groggy murmur, her hand reaching out instinctively to brush the hair away from your face.

“Hey, take it easy,” she says, voice low and soothing. “You took a pretty nasty fall back at the bar. Hit your head on a table on the way down.”

Your eyes widen as your memory jogs itself.

“What..? Wait, Ford.. Ford was there?”

Lizzy freezes, her expression guarded at the mention of Ford. She averts her gaze, focusing her attention on the cloth that she’s holding against your forehead.

“Uh, yeah,” she says, her voice hesitant. “He showed up towards the end of the night when I went to grab you a water… You don’t remember?”

You think to yourself for a moment, your memory patchy and vague.

“I mean, I kind of do. But it was weird? Did something happen?”

Lizzy is silent, her gaze still firmly averted from yours. She adjusts the cloth, pressing it against your head with a little more pressure than necessary.

“Nothing happened,” she finally says, her voice tight. “You just had a little too much to drink and tripped, that’s all.”

Her words are curt and dismissive, clearly trying to downplay the situation. But there’s something in her expression, a flicker of unease that betrays her true emotions.

She glances at you briefly, her eyes meeting yours for a split second before moving back to your injury.

“Lizzy..?” you say, silently pleading with her to tell you the full truth.

She exhales slowly, her shoulders slumping in resignation. She knows you’re not going to let this go, and she owes you the truth.

“Alright, fine,” she mutters avoiding your gaze. “When I got back to the booth, it was exactly when you had fell..”

You listen closely, sitting yourself up slightly.

“I had noticed Ford when I got there, sure, but when I went to go help you..”

Lizzy pauses, a frown forming on her face as she continues.

“Ford laughed,” she says as her eyes meet yours, full of concern and.. fear? “And not in a lighthearted way, in a cruel mocking way Y/N..”

Lizzy lowers the cloth from your head, placing it in her lap as you sit there, dumbfounded.

“He was just… enjoying the view, I guess,” She mutters bitterly. “Like you were some kind of joke, I don’t know Y/N. It was fucking weird, really fucking weird. I didn’t like it. He laughed as if he was the one who had done it.”

Lizzy trails off, brows furrowed as she clenches her fists. While you, on the other hand, are utterly speechless.

Your mind reels with this new information, struggling to reconcile the image of Ford – laughing coldly and mockingly at your predicament - with the caring, affectionate husband you’ve known him to be your whole life.

“I… I don’t understand,” you stutter, your voice small and confused.

“He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that. Not Ford.”

But as you say those words, you can’t help but recall the other strange things that had happened earlier that night. Ford’s detached demeanor, his unfamiliar choice of words, the way he seemed so cold and calculating. Your heart clenches in your chest at the thought, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. Had something happened over the few weeks you’ve been gone? Did Ford get too deep in his research? Something wasn’t right.

As you try to make sense of the situation, Lizzy watches you with a mix of compassion and concern. She knows this is incredibly tough for you to hear, but she also seems to have her own worries about the situation.

“I don’t know Y/N,” she says quietly, her hands twisting in her lap. “It was just… so not him. I don’t know what the hell happened. But I’ve never seen him act like that before. It’s like he was a different person.”

Her voice trails off, leaving the two of you in silence as you’re both lost in thought.

Eventually, Lizzy breaks the silence, her voice sympathetic as she places a hand on top of yours.

“How about this, you rest up today, and when you’re ready, I’ll take you to the cabin to get some answers from Ford? Only if you feel comfortable, of course.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside of you.

“Alright,” you murmur. “I’m still feeling pretty rough, but I’d like to see him… tonight, if possible.”

Despite your confusion and worry, you know that facing your husband and talking with him is the only way to get answers. The answers that you crave so desperately in hopes that it’ll mend your breaking heart - and marriage.

Lizzy gives you a reassuring nod.

“Of course,” she says gently. “You rest up, and I’ll come get you when it’s time to go.”

She stands up, gently readjusting the cloth on your head.

“Try to get some sleep, okay?”

You nod, laying yourself back down.

You’re going to need it to cross the bridge that awaits you tonight.

READER AND BILL INTERACTION WOOP WOOP!! Also I’m not gonna lie, I feel like I messed up the timeline a little bit but I’m just gonna go for it. Thank you for reading! :)

Tag List: @artistic-gato @karmaisacatluzi @therottenheartofscum @violetvsworld @inquiit @catr4dora

[3mz0mbi3]

── ๑ ֹ ₊ ᐟᐟ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐓𝐌𝐍𝐓 𝟐𝐊𝟏𝟐 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ‧₊

The wind hit my face hard every time I pushed my body forward to accelerate. I felt the thrill rush through me like electricity, but it couldn't compare to the feeling I got from admiring that beautiful orange hair so magnificent, like the sun during sunset, her figure dressed in two different shades of pink, and not to mention those eyes, green like a fairytale forest, you could only admire every aspect of the beautiful girl who passed you so effortlessly. She, on the other hand, offered you a loving smile, which only made you more enchanted by her sweet expression but who could blame you? You were completely smitten with your girlfriend, even though you could see her beautiful features any other day, you engraved them in your memory as if it were the last day you’d see her and still, her charm kept surprising you as if it were the first time you saw her.

Both heroes were playfully competing to see who could pass the other, diving into the city, flying in circles between the skyscrapers, letting themselves get carried away by the pure joy of being together. Without even noticing, they began to rise, drifting away from the noise of the city, until it became a distant murmur and only the two of them and the clouds remained.

Atom Eve passed the young Grayson once again. The redhead turned her body, now flying back just to like her girlfriend did with her, admire that laugh showing her teeth alongside that tri-colored suit of yellow, blue, and black, they were made for each other.

Then suddenly, Atom Eve was caught off guard when a gust of wind pulled her out of her thoughts, it was her girlfriend, who had just overtaken her in an instant, ꒰Y/N꒱ extended her arms, a big smile on her face, and suddenly started spinning around like a human helicopter blade. Her arms held firm, legs together, and her body did a perfect horizontal spin. Then she stopped mid-spin, stabilized her flight, and continued forward, not without first turning to look back at Eve, who was only a few meters away, still flying backward.

─── “So, what was that? Were you trying to impress me?” ─── asked the pink-suit hero playfully, still flying backward, propelled by a burst of pink matter.

─── “Did it work?” ─── asked the Grayson with an excited smile like that of a small child

─── “Maybe” ─── Eve said, raising an eyebrow while keeping her smile. ─── “If you didn’t use the same tricks, maybe you’d impress me.”

The girl in the tri-colored suit laughed as she began to speed up again.

─── “Well then, pay attention babe!, this one will do it!” ─── I raised my fist and in a short time, she already created a large distance between her and Eve, who could only deny fun for the actions of his partner, Eve slowed down to turn around and now face forward, better able to admire her girlfriend, who was so eager to impress her.

꒰Y/N꒱ looked over her shoulder at the young wilkins, who now had her eyes very attentive to his moves, she can't help smile at her lovingly but suddenly my pink girl's expression turned between confusion and seriousness, just as she stopped flying and raised her hands, ꒰Y/N꒱ could faintly hear her sweet voice calling her name, since the whispers of the wind along with the distance made it difficult for him to hear her clearly, it was precisely that which erased his playful smile and made him look up in front of him, quickly finding himself a few inches from a pink matter barrier and behind it was a large green portal floating in the air.

I didn’t even have time to slow down or stop; within seconds, I was already breaking through Eve’s barrier and entering the portal, not even poor Eve had time to think of something to stop your flight, and by the time she did, you were already being swallowed by the portal. Eve hurried to fly after you, hoping she could at least still pull you back but the portal soon vanished with the wind

4 months was the time you had been trapped in another dimension that wasn’t as developed as yours in certain aspects, and even more so since you were in the year 2012., besides, it seemed like heroes didn’t exist, you found this out the bad way, when after going from a fresh morning to a barely starry night once you crossed the portal, you didn’t notice anything strange, After a short time wandering around, it became clear you were in New York.

You had the theory of just having been transported to another place in a different time, but with all the things you were seeing, maybe you were in an alternate universe, Your first thought was that you could go to the base of the  Guardians of the Globe and search for Robot to help you with your situation, or even go to your girlfriend Eve’s house though you couldn’t be sure she was still your girlfriend in this universe, nor could you be sure this was just an alteration of your universe.

In the end, you found nothing, no headquarters, no Eve’s house, not even yours, as a last resort, you thought about flying into space If you could find some help, but you weren’t sure what you’d run into up there. At the end you decided to return to New York, just to be at the same point where you came out of the portal. You had a faint hope it would open again.

Still, you had to think of something, since you had not even a single clue of when the portal would open again or if it even would so you opted to get some kind of job that wouldn’t ask for your birth records, ID, school certificate, or why you were wearing a three-coloured suit.

Well, let’s say you were lucky enough to meet Mr. Murakami!

Oh, that good man saved your life, he gave you a job without asking many questions and of course, his total blindness didn’t allow him to, even you had to come up with a story to cover up the fact that you didn’t even have a house, family, clothes, or a reason why you weren’t going to school, He was extremely supportive and honestly a bit naive awakened in you the need to protect the older man and how not? He even managed to find you an apartment to stay in for a while before they started charging you rent, He gave you a good paid so you could afford clothes, basic hygiene products, food, and every now and then you’d treat yourself to a little comic, too bad they didn’t have Seance Dog here.

─── “Good night, Mr. Murakami! Sleep well” ─── I was getting off early from my full-time shift, since of course I wasn’t going to school, that gave me more free time, so I decided to spend it working extra hours, I was starting to save money to attend school, although that decision was still uncertain.

─── “You too ꒰Y/N꒱, remember to be careful on the streets at this hour” ─── the man said goodbye to me near the door, his hand resting on the frame.

─── “Yes! Don’t worry about me, have a lovely night!” ─── I walked away little by little from the shop and waved goodbye with my hand but I quickly lowered it in embarrassment how absentminded did I have to be to wave like that to a blind man? I just kept walking toward my apartment.

I continued walking calmly, certainly lost in my thoughts. I was worried something might be happening while I was here just idling around, ¿How much time was passing in my universe? ¿Was Mom okay? She was already depressed by the truth Dad was hiding from her. I don’t want to imagine how she must be now that I just disappeared flying, ¿How was Eve? ¿Was she still worried about me? The fear haunted me that so much time might be passing that she could have forgotten about me, ¿Would William forget about me too? I know our time had already passed, but I still worried about how Amber was doing, Not just them, ¿How were doing Rex and the rest of the Teen Team now the New Guardians of the Globe?

I sighed at my thoughts, mentally reminding myself that I had to stay positive. I hadn’t noticed there was an older man walking in front of me with a red-haired girl I assumed was his daughter. Seeing that hair color made me think of Eve, and I ended up speeding up my steps just enough to pass them easily, I really needed some rest. I ended up turning onto a street where a single Street light seemed to be the only one working, my steps slowed as I started feeling strange, like something wasn’t right. That’s when a carelessly driven van came to a sudden stop almost in front of me, and I saw two suited men get out, walking right past me. I stood there, confused, almost ready to ignore it but hearing panicked screams put me on alert Almost instantly, I turned to see where the screams were coming from, only to end up watching the same people I had just passed now being cornered by both suited men, For a moment, just one, end up connecting looks with the girl I could see several emotions mixed in those blue eyes: fear, panic, confusion.

I need to do something, I had to, because I wasn’t going to stand there and do nothing, No matter how strong those guys might be, it was my duty to protect the weaker ones. Because I am—

── 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐄!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖👽 . ˙ ─── I was bored at night so i stay up late doing this, So if you see too much lack of spelling or grammar or it is a very poor script they already have an answer Lol

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖👽 . ˙ ─── I apologize for any mistakes I have, if some things don't make much sense or can be misinterpreted, English is not my first language

[mrsriddles-blog]

Model | M.S

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader

WC: 2.2k+

Warnings/Notes: Mild language, smutty scene, pregnancy, fluff, etc.

Summary: Unexpectedly, you hit it off with Matt at your new modeling gig for the Space Camp Lip Balm shoot.

"Alls Nick needs you to do is allow us to get some shots of you applying his lip balms. Try to look relaxed. For a few photos, make direct eye contact with the camera. Get into the vibe and just really try and feel yourself." Lora, your manager, says.

"I can do that." You murmur.

You were dragged off to the bathroom of the little set they've set up as some tropical themed location. You were given a black two piece swimsuit and they styled your hair while doing light makeup.

"What do you think?" The stylist asks her boss, Nick who stood with his brothers.

Nick looks at you and studies you as he realizes how professional you were compared to the other models that came in. The other models were all fan girls of him and his brothers, and to say the least...it was exhausting. Yet, your face was blank, and your eyes guarding any thoughts or worries you may be having.

"I like the black...but I almost think we need a color to make it pop...it needs to be yellow. Do we have a yellow cardigan thing?" Nick asks.

"Um...no." The stylist says slowly.

"Would my yellow button up work?" Matt asks.

"Try that. Go help her get that on and make sure her hair isn't tucked into the shirt." Nick says.

Matt motions you to follow him and you do. You admired his messy hair and his glasses in silence as he opened the door to the bathroom. He starts to unbutton the pastel yellow button up he wore to reveal a white tank top underneath it. He shrugs it off and your eyes follow his tattoos. His eyes follow yours and he smiles slyly.

"Like em'?" He asks as he helps you put your arms into the button up.

"Mhm. They look really cool. Does each one have a different meaning to you?" You ask softly.

He was thrown off by your velvety voice, but he somehow managed to keep his cool as he helps even out the button up and adjust your hair.

"Yeah...have you ever considered getting tattoos?" He asks.

"I want a lot, but it could affect my modeling career. My manager would kill me before I stepped foot into a tattoo shop." You say, a sad little laugh at the end.

"I'm Matt...Matt Sturniolo." He murmurs, his nerves getting the best of him as he prepared for a fan girl moment. 

"It's nice to meet you, Matt. I'm Y/n, but call me Y/n/n. I prefer it." You admit.

You didn't seemed fazed by his name and it was relieving to him. He looks you over slowly and Nick was right about it having to be yellow. He found himself liking the way you looked in his button up shirt. It went to about mid-thigh on you and it overall made you look even cuter to him.

"Well hold on there, Y/n/n...this collar is fucked up." He murmurs as he steps closer to you.

His hands brush down your neck, goosebumps following in their trail as you look up at him through your eyelashes unintentionally. He adjust the collar slowly before his eyes find yours.

"Has anyone told you how pretty you are?" He murmurs.

"I-I...thank you, Matt." You murmur, your cheeks flushing red.

He smirks slyly as he steps back. He has you do a slow turn so that he can make sure it's perfect and that Nick won't rip him a new hole.

"Alright, you look perfect. Almost think a white swimming suit would look good with a pink button up. I got one of those out in the car too." He murmurs.

"Thank fuck. It looks perfect." Nick says.

"What if you have her do a couple photos in a white swim suit with that pink button up I got in the car?" Matt suggests.

"Go grab it. So far we are doing good on time. The other model walked out. She was mad that I asked her to do more shots because she was too busy flirting with Chris." Nick sighs.

While Matt leaves, you were instructed on different poses by Nick. You stand by Nick as you both look over the shots.

"They all look great!" Nick exclaims excitedly.

It was the one shoot that went right. He admired your dedication to your work and the professionalism you had. There was a time and place for fooling around and another for being professional. You, thankfully knew the difference and for that, he was thankful.

"Alright, are you cool with us doing another shoot in a different outfit?" He asks.

"Yeah, of course." You say softly.

"The stylist stepped out for lunch." Laura, Nicks manager says.

"I can get changed and touch up my makeup and hair. It's not a big deal." You say, noticing the stress on Nick's face.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"Mhm. And you can be honest when I come out and you're not a fan of the makeup or something. I can fix it." You say, trying to lighten the mood by smiling.

"You truly are the saving grace of today. Thank you." Nick says, a wave of relief washing over him.

You walk back to the room and grab your bag, even though typically the outfits are supplied. You had come prepared with options. You grab the white bikini set and put it on. You were trying to clasp the back, but you might've underestimated how small it was. The door opens and you look in the mirror to see Matt.

"Shit, I'm sorry. Nick said you were getting ready, but I assumed you were done changing." Matt says.

"Your okay! Actually, can you help me? I can't get this clasped..." You admit quietly, your cheeks flushing red as you catch him slyly smirk.

He closed the door and sets the button up over a chair. You move your hands to the front of the top to hold it in place as he clasps it.

"Hey, y/n/n?" He murmurs as he watches you adjust your top and bottoms.

"Hm?" You hum softly.

"Could I get your number?" He asks.

"Sure." You say softly with a smile.

He smiles and grabs the pink button up and helps you put it on. You sit and do some touch ups to your makeup before going into the light and neutral shades of eyeshadow and going in with pinks.

You talked with Matt, giving him your number. He made you laugh and smile way more than you had in a long time.

You walk out, the two of you talking about a movie you both had watched recently.

"I love the eyeshadow! It all looks perfect. The eyeshadow look and colors was a good choice." Nick compliments.

Soon you were doing different poses for different shots. You began to feel more yourself as you got further along. It wasn’t long before Nick, his brothers, and you were around the screen and looking at the shots.

The park was becoming more empty, but you continued to enjoy every moment with Matt. You were excited when he texted you and asked to hang out.

"Look, there's a Photo Booth!" Matt says, dragging you towards it.

It was small and had enough for one person to sit at most. Matt sits and pulls you down on his knee. He pays and you both start with a smile, then silly faces, but before you both could do the next pose, he was gently guiding you to look at him.

He leans forward, kissing you softly. You respond softly—almost unsure of what to do. You move your hands to his hair, gently tugging at it as you hold him closer.

You throw your leg over him, straddling him as you sit on top of the growing bulge. He pulls away, kissing down your jaw before kissing down your neck. He reaches out and puts another dollar into the machine.

He nips at your neck and you gasp. He unbuttons your shirt before standing and pinning you against the back of the photo booth wall.

"Y/n/n, we are going to do a little bit of a risky game." He breathes.

"W-What is it?" You whisper.

"When I tell you to put a dollar in, put one in and let it take photos of us. We don't know who's going to walk past this photo booth, but we are going to continue. Okay?" He asks.

"Y-Yeah." She breathes.

He hands her a wad of dollars he had gotten before their outing today. He gets on his knees and puts her legs over his shoulders.

"No panties? Dirty girl." He murmurs as he lifts your skirt.

Your cheeks flush red before you gasp as his mouth attacks your clit. You had done things before and you've been eaten out, poorly, which made you uncomfortable at ever trying it again. But, Matt knew exactly what he was doing. 

"M-Matt!" You moan, arching your back as your hips move to their own accord. 

You whine in frustration as his mouth leaves your clit. He looks up at you, his chin glistening with your juices.

"Put a dollar in, baby." He murmurs.

You lean down a bit and put the dollar in before leaning back against the wall. He grins before he goes back to eating you out. You throw your head back as you bury your hand in his hair, pushing him closer to you. He buries two fingers in you, thrusting them out slowly. You whimper as you grind against his face before coming. You pant as you slump against the wall.

"Fuck baby, you taste like heaven." He murmurs.

He helps you adjust you clothes before picking up all the pictures on the ground. He smiles as he starts to look through them. Your cheeks flush red at them, but you do think it added to the fun.

"Come on. Let's go to Walmart before they close." He murmurs.

"Walmart? Why?" You ask, following behind him.

"We are getting a Polaroid camera because that was fucking fun. Maybe a lock box because no one but you and I will get to see these pictures. You truly are meant to be a model, baby." He murmurs, taking your hand in his.

"Just one more!" Nick sighs.

The model continues to storm away, throwing down a book. Chris bites his lip before looking at his brother.

"I can go...so that they focus, y'know." He mumbles.

"No, no, you're fine." Nick sighs.

"Hey guys!" Matt says, walking hand in hand with you.

"Y/n/n! Thank god you're here!" Nick exclaims.

"What's wrong?" You ask, rubbing your swollen five month belly with your hand.

To say the least, Matt got a bit carried away with the thought of you having his baby. You didn't regret it though.

"Could we do some shots of you?" He asks.

"Um...Nick...I'm five months pregnant." You say confused.

"I do shots of you all the time. I think you look like a fucking goddess pregnant." Matt says with a sly grin.

Both his brothers ew and cover their ears as you smack Matt who was laughing.

"Not appropriate Matthew!" You scold.

"Come on, baby. Do a couple shots for him. What's five months of being pregnant gotta do with some shots?" He murmurs.

"Matt...typically for shots like this, you don't want a pregnant woman. The most shoots I've been able to get my hands on is maternity shoots. You typically want someone...skinner and prettier." You explain.

"Okay, let's start with the fact that you are fucking gorgeous and you are creating a human in there. We need to break the fucking stigma of wanting skinny and blonde models. Go get your ass to that dressing room and find something autumn like and get out here for some shots!" Nick rants.

You look at him, awed with his speech as your eyes tear up. He pales, raising his hands as if to surrender.

"Y/n/n, what's wrong?" He asks.

You let a sob out as Matt goes to grab you, but you pull Nick into a hug.

"That's just the most wonderful thing I've ever heard. You truly are the sweetest and most feminist man I know." You say.

"Aww, Y/n/n, you're okay." He murmurs.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. The hormones, y'know. Believe it or not, this isn't the first time I've cried today." You say, pulling back to wipe your tears.

"What? You? There's no way." Nick says, although he knew you had probably cried like ten times today as Matt looks off and nods slowly as he remembers this morning.

"Oh yeah. I'm a whole train wreck...gosh, how does Matt even deal with me." You mumble as your eyes well up again.

"Hey, no tears. Matt loves you and you love Matt. And the both of you love this baby. It's okay to be a train wreck. But, you both will look back and laugh at these silly moments you've been having." Nick says softly.

You laugh and nod before Matt was gently guiding you to the dressing room.