#the colors!!! like a well-loved photograph T^T

[coldshrugs]

goddamn, you look holy hit from behind with light you're a painting of a saint and i'm nervous, stumbling over my lines

@sunshinemage causes me yet another cardiac arrest with smoochy io and estinien. thank you rory, i'm never getting over this!! ♥♥♥

[thewulf]

Easy Skies || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Feeling cuddly so you end up cuddling Jake for the first time in the early stages of your relationships. How this would lead to them napping together? Nothing but praises and love affirmations between them. Soft kisses. Readers first kiss with Jake.

A/N: Ahhh sorry I've been gone! Been enjoying summer :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.7k +

T/W : None just fluff

It’s been several weeks since you and Jake officially started seeing each other. You met at a community event honoring local heroes where Jake shared stories of his missions and the places his career had taken him. Your own interest in aerial photography sparked a quick and deep conversation between the two of you leading to an instant connection.

It was going really well. The two of you taking your time with everything. He shared stories of how we was reckless in the past and you were already very cautionary with types like his. So, you tested him a bit. Only kisses on the cheek, nothing more. And he did passed with flying colors. He never pressured you, never pushed for more. But now you were ready for something more. You're spending a lazy Sunday at Jake’s apartment for the first time. His place reflects his life as a pilot. It was decorated with navigational charts. With different models of aircraft he’s flown and photographs from around the world. The walls hold framed maps marked with the various places he's visited, each one holding a story he's eager to share with you.

As the afternoon fades into evening, you both settle into the comfortable couch in his living room. The soft music playing in the background mixes with the mellow golden light streaming through the windows creating a serene atmosphere. It's a rare and quiet moment for Jake who is usually caught up in the demanding schedule of a Navy pilot. You cherish the peaceful intimacy that has formed between you. Today’s simplicity is a precious contrast to the complexities of your usual routines.

As you both relax into the couch Jake recounts a comical error from his last training exercise. He'd accidentally swapped his day’s checklist with another pilot’s which led to some light-hearted confusion and teasing from his crew.

“You seriously went through half the pre-flight with the wrong list?” you laugh while shaking your head in amusement.

“Yep,” Jake admits with a grin. “It was only when I called out the wrong coordinates that someone caught on. We all had a good laugh about it later.” The conversation winds down as you both sink into the rhythm of each other’s presence, comfortable and at ease. There’s a genuine simplicity in the way you interact, no need for constant chatter. Jake’s job as a pilot often surrounds him with high stakes and rigor making these peaceful moments particularly valuable.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? Just being able to sit and talk without rushing anywhere,” Jake comments. His tone relaxed.

“It really is,” you agree as you smiled over at him. “Especially with good company.”

He returns your smile with a warm, appreciative one of his own. As the room fills with the soft hum of a new song the day closes around you both, cozy and familiar. Like a well-loved jacket that’s been washed a hundred times. It’s easy, it’s comfortable. And right now, it’s exactly what you both need.

As the afternoon shadows stretch across the room a yawn escapes you, shifting the comfortable silence. Jake catches it and chuckles, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Tired?” he teases before nudging you gently with his elbow.

“Maybe a little,” you admit while stretching your arms above your head. “It’s been a long week.”

Jake nods understandingly. His gaze softening. “How about we take a little nap then? Recharge a bit?”

You playfully raise an eyebrow. A smile tugging at your lips. “Only if you’re joining. I hear you’re the best pillow around here.”

Jake’s laughter fills the room, warm and infectious. “Is that so? Well, I can’t let you down then.” He shifts himself making room on the couch and pats the spot next to him "Come here," he says softly. His voice blending with the low melody. With a contented smile you slide closer until you're nestled against him. Your head resting comfortably on his broad chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart through the soft fabric of his shirt. A reassuring rhythm that echoes quietly in your ear. Jake's arm wraps securely around you with his hand resting gently on your back. The warmth of his touch and the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes bring an overwhelming sense of peace and safety.

For a few moments you simply listen, taking in the sound of his heartbeat and the soft, steady breaths he draws. It's a new level of intimacy of sharing this quiet closeness without the need for words. Jake's hand moves in slow, soothing strokes across your back further relaxing you. With each passing second the world beyond the walls of Jake’s apartment seems to drift further away. You're drawn into this serene bubble where the only things that matter are the soft fabric of the couch, the gentle caress of Jake's hand, and the comforting rhythm of his heart.

Jake breaks the silence with a whisper that's barely audible over the music. "This is nice," he murmurs. His breath tickling your ear. You hum in agreement as you were too content and relaxed to form words. The trust and affection in this simple act of cuddling deepen, marking a beautiful, quiet milestone in your growing relationship.

As the soft jazz continues to play creating a soothing backdrop, the room grows quieter still. The comfort of Jake’s embrace coupled with the warm, gentle atmosphere lulls you deeper into relaxation. His breathing becomes slower, more rhythmic, signaling his own descent into sleep. You feel his grip tighten just a bit. A subconscious affirmation of his presence and protection. Gradually, the space between wakefulness and sleep blurs. Your thoughts drift away, anchored only by the steady heartbeat beneath your ear. In the safety of Jake’s arms sleep seems like the most natural progression. Without planning it you both drift off. The world narrowing down to the couch where you lie together.

The nap isn't long but it’s restorative. Exactly what you needed. As you both sleep there’s an unspoken exchange of trust and comfort. It’s one thing to share conversations and activities but another to share such vulnerability as sleep in each other’s presence. This mutual comfort speaks volumes about the trust and closeness developing between you.

Time slips by quietly and when you eventually stir it’s to the feeling of Jake’s fingers lightly brushing through your hair. His movements are soft and careful, designed not to wake you but to reassure himself you’re still there. You open your eyes slowly meeting his gaze which is filled with a quiet joy.

“Hey,” he whispers. As if speaking too loudly might break the spell of the peaceful moment you've shared.

“Hey,” you respond with your voice just as soft. The simple exchange feels like a gentle reconnection to the world affirming the comfort and affection that wrapped around you both as you slept. The nap together was simple yet intimate. It deepens the connection between you. Each quiet breath shared adding another layer to your growing relationship.

The afternoon light has softened into a cozy twilight by the time you both stir from your nap. You’re still wrapped in Jake’s arms and as your eyes meet there’s a playful spark between you that feels both exciting and comforting. “Welcome back,” Jake murmurs. His voice low and slightly husky from sleep. He leans forward pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Then one on the tip of your nose, which makes you giggle.

“Is that how you wake up all your guests?” you tease. Your voice light and tinged with laughter.

“Only the special ones,” he replies with a grin with his eyes crinkling at the corners. He doesn’t stop there though. His kisses wander from your cheek to your jawline, each peck light and teasing, drawing more giggles from you. The laughter that fills the room is warm, echoing the affectionate mood.

Jake’s playful kisses continue by tracing a path down the side of your neck, sending a shiver of delight through you. You can’t help but catch him by the collar before pulling him back up to meet your eyes. “You’re going to make it impossible to leave this couch,” you laugh while still holding onto his shirt.

“That’s the plan,” he whispers back. His voice playful yet sincere. Then in a swift, fluid motion he captures your lips with his in a kiss that’s deeper and more intentional than the playful ones before. This kiss feels like a culmination of all the gentle pecks, each one adding a layer to the profound connection you’re building together.

As you break away there’s a shared smile. A mutual understanding of the affection and joy weaving through each interaction, each touch, each kiss. The playfulness adds a lightness to your relationship. He made moments like these not just romantic but genuinely fun, enriching the bond you share with laughter and love. After the laughter subsides and the atmosphere settles into a comfortable quiet, Jake looks at you with a contented smile. His eyes reflecting a gentle appreciation. "These moments with you. They're the highlight of my week," he says quietly. His voice carrying a note of sincerity.

Feeling a warm glow from his words you nod and smile softly. Your response understated but genuine. "It always feels different when I'm with you. It's easy, you know?" Your words are simple, echoing the straightforwardness of your time together.

Jake's response is a nod, his smile lingering. "Let's keep it that way," he replies. His agreement simple yet full of promise. The conversation feels natural, reflecting the comfort and understated affection that characterizes your relationship. As twilight transitions into the deep blue of night neither of you feels ready to break the comfortable cocoon you've formed on the couch. Jake glances at the clock, then back at you with a playful challenge in his eyes.

"How about we order some dinner?" he suggests. His tone casual but hopeful. "I'm not quite ready for this day to end. But I don’t think I can get up quite yet."

You laugh while agreeing instantly. "Sounds perfect. What are you in the mood for?"

"Pizza okay with you?" Jake asks already reaching for his phone to place the order.

"Always a good choice," you reply settling back against his chest while feeling utterly at ease.

The wait for the food is filled with more soft conversations. Each shared thought strengthening the bond between you. As the evening unfolds it becomes clear that days like these are just the beginning of what you both hope will be many more shared experiences.

When the food arrives, you set up a makeshift dining area on the coffee table, continuing the easy flow of the day into the evening. Each slice of pizza comes with stories you share. Each laugh making the room warmer. As the evening winds down, you find yourselves eagerly talking about other things you could do together, from movie nights to hiking trips. The night ends not just with satisfied appetites but with the excitement of planning future outings. It's clear that your relationship is blossoming. Full of promise for more beautiful days and nights shared in each other’s company.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

The Flame in You

Pairing: Poly 141 x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, cosplay nerdiness, ridiculous amounts of affection, minor swearing, modern AU, suggestive teasing, reader wears a Shinobu cosplay

Author's Note: This was such a fun idea! I loved writing this and making the boys cosplay with you!! As a cosplayer, with Cons coming up I decided to just throw this together too!

Summary: You’ve been planning this Demon Slayer convention for months—and this year, you finally convinced your four boyfriends to cosplay with you. Chaos, photo ops, and heart-melting moments ensue.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The bedroom looked like a silk shop exploded. Purple fabric shimmered on your arms as you twirled in front of the mirror, the sleeves of your Shinobu Kocho cosplay catching the light like butterfly wings. You grinned, proud and a little breathless, and turned to face the bed.

All four of them were staring at you like you had just summoned a demon with sparkles.

“Well?” you asked, arms raised in a dramatic pose. “Thoughts?”

Johnny MacTavish, still tangled in sheets, let out a whistle. “You look like you could kill a man with a smile.”

“That’s the point,” you replied sweetly. “Shinobu is lethal with a grin.”

Kyle Garrick sat up slowly on the edge of the bed, pushing his curls back. “You look amazing, love. But… are you really sure we’re doing this?”

You pointed to the neatly arranged costumes on the floor. “Yup. You’re Tanjiro. You’ve got the heart and the eyebrows.”

Kyle blinked. “Eyebrows?”

Johnny snorted. “What about me?”

“You’re Tengen Uzui. Flashy. Loud. Muscular. Three wives.”

Johnny’s face lit up. “Hell yeah.”

Simon Riley stood silently by the window, sipping his coffee in his black T-shirt like the embodiment of Giyu already.

“You, Mr. Riley, are Tomioka. Silent. Deadly. Pretends not to care but definitely does.”

Simon arched a brow. “What makes you think I care?”

“You ironed my costume this morning.”

He sipped again. “Once.”

John Price entered then, pulling a hoodie over his head, pausing mid-step when he saw the flame-patterned haori in your hands.

“No,” he said immediately.

“Yes,” you said back, holding it up.

“I’m not wearing that ridiculous cloak.”

“You’re Rengoku. The dad of the group. You monologue about life and pride and snacks.”

“I don’t monologue.”

“You gave a ten-minute speech on olive oil.”

Simon coughed into his mug. Johnny grinned like a devil.

John grumbled, “There better be a strong drink at the end of this.”

“There’s a hotel bar.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

——

The convention center buzzed with energy. Lights flashed, music blared, and people in every kind of costume imaginable rushed past in a flurry of colors and wigs.

You stepped in first, dressed head to toe as Shinobu. Your butterfly sleeves floated behind you, hair pinned with a perfect purple clip, katana tucked neatly into your belt. You walked with grace, the kind that made people stare—and they did.

You turned just in time to see your boys following behind you.

John looked incredible. The flame cloak fit him like it was sewn to his body. His Rengoku wig sat proudly on his head, the red and yellow spikes surprisingly flattering. He had a calm but commanding presence, radiating warmth even in cosplay.

Simon, in his layered Giyu haori, moved like a shadow. His usual mask wasn’t there, but his expression was unreadable enough to keep people at a distance. That didn’t stop a few fans from sneaking photos.

Kyle looked completely at ease as Tanjiro, the checkered haori draped over his frame, sword at his hip. He even had the scar drawn on. He smiled at everyone who made eye contact.

Johnny might’ve been having the time of his life. His Uzui outfit was detailed to perfection, arms flexing under faux armor, dual swords across his back. He grinned and posed every five feet.

“Can I take a photo of you guys?” a teenager gasped. “You’re the whole Hashira lineup!”

Before anyone could speak, Johnny stepped forward. “You may photograph us, citizen,” he boomed.

You laughed and took your place in the middle, Simon and John flanking you, Kyle and Johnny beside them. Cameras clicked. Fans squealed. More people gathered.

By the time you made it to the vendor hall, you’d been stopped for at least fifteen photos, three hugs, and one marriage proposal (which Johnny accepted on Kyle’s behalf).

Kyle gave piggyback rides to kids. Simon helped a lost cosplayer find her group. Johnny gave dramatic shout-outs to other Tengen cosplayers. And John? John stood at your back, steady and quiet, hand always resting lightly on your waist.

You had never been more in love.

“Your group’s amazing,” a fan whispered, handing you a sketch of the Hashira. “Would you sign it?”

All five of you did, crowding onto a tiny artist pad with scribbled names and inside jokes.

“The Flashy Five,” Johnny wrote in big letters.

Simon just signed with a skull.

John carefully wrote “Thank you” and handed it back like he was giving away a precious blade.

When the day wound down, you returned to the hotel exhausted but glowing. Your feet ached. Your face hurt from smiling. Your heart felt full.

Johnny flopped onto the couch in just his sweats. “I’m never taking this makeup off.”

“You’ll glitter for a week,” Kyle said, leaning against the wall, costume hung up neatly.

Simon sat beside you, gently helping you take your butterfly clips out. His hands were soft. His fingers lingered at your jaw.

“You know we’d do anything for you, yeah?” he said.

“I know,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

John appeared from the bathroom, fresh from a shower, flame cloak gone, hair damp. He held out a glass of wine, and you took it with a grateful smile.

“You were proud in that outfit,” you teased.

“I tolerated it.”

“You monologued to a kid in a Zenitsu cape.”

“I was giving him advice.”

“About sweet potatoes.”

He chuckled and sank beside you, pulling you into his side. Kyle joined next, warm on your other. Johnny leaned over the back of the couch to kiss your head, arms draped lazily across all of you.

This. Right here. Surrounded. Loved. Seen.

You weren’t just a fan living her dream at a con.

You were the luckiest girl in the world.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[ladykailitha]

Heartbreak in Overdrive Part 8

Boom, baby! We are back!! This is my new schedule for fics here! Be sure to check it out so you don't miss your favorites!

I would reread part 7 here or start from the beginning here.

In this we have more of the photo shoot with Steve and Eddie just falls more in love with Steve and his girls then ever before.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

~

The first outfit was a metallic grey, almost antique silver in color and the boots were killer. They had a two inch stiletto heel and went right above his knees. The pants were skin tight and the shirt was a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and the sides hollowed out. The shirt was tucked artfully into the pants. He looked hot.

The makeup was very Ziggy Stardust and hair was most down with still a little bit up.

They were moving on to the settee today and Eddie was so ready for it. The chair had been comfortable but was limiting on the range of poses he could do.

Eddie walked out, perfectly balanced on the heels, hips swaying as he sashayed over to the black velvet lounge chair. He flopped on it gracefully and then turned to wink at Steve.

Steve fumbled the camera and only barely managed to catch before it hit the ground.

Eddie smirked. “Ready when you are, big boy!”

Steve took pictures for a couple of hours, Eddie getting touched up when needed, before a break was called.

They started making their way to craft services when Steve snapped his fingers.

“Oh I forgot to mention,” he said with that winning smile, “Kimmy said the company wants us to take as long as we need to get the launch of the product perfect.”

“That’s a relief,” Eddie murmured.

“Since we have the time,” Steve said brightly, “I was thinking of as many shots as you feel comfortable with each outfit so you can pick the best ones.”

That brought Eddie up short. “Wait, you’re not the one picking the shots?”

Steve, who had taken a few steps before realizing that he had stopped, turned and looked at him. “Well, yeah. It’s in your contract. You pick your shots. The only change I wanted was having my crew with me. I trust you to pick the best shots. I’ve seen your judgment in action and your instincts are spot on.”

Eddie trotted to catch up to speed. “How have you seen the raws to any of my photo shoots?”

“Oh,” Steve said with a blush, running his fingers through his hair nervously. “I went to high school with Jonathan Byers and Tommy Hagan. We were actually all in the same photography club. Argyle Rivera is Jonathan’s boyfriend.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. Then the realization hit him like an oncoming storm, wild and dangerous. “Holy shit. You’re the mysterious friend they keep talking about. You’re my white knight!”

Steve’s cheeks turned bright red and he wrapped one arm around his waist. “Well, I don’t know about being anyone’s knight or whatever. I just don’t know why they treat you differently from every other high class model.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathed. “I could kiss you!”

Steve ducked his head and scuffed his shoe on the carpet, suddenly shy. “Oh, um. I’m not really, um... it’s not that I wouldn’t like that, but just um... uh. Well.” He cursed under his breath. “I really shouldn’t cross the line between photographer and model. I just got into this and don’t want to do anything that would get me in trouble.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment and took the time to really process what Steve had said throughout that absolutely adorable ramble.

“All right, pretty boy,” he teased. “I’ll lay off the teasing. But we should still exchange numbers. Because I have a feeling you’re going to be my go to photographer.” He winked at Steve and then sailed past him to continue on to craft services.

~

Each outfit got darker and skimpier until Eddie was wearing a charcoal grey mesh crop top and matching hotpants. He also wore nylons and sparkly open-toed heels. His makeup was a smokey eye and dark red lipstick and his hair could barely be considered in partially up with just a few strands pulled out of his face.

The poses had gotten more and more sexually charged, too. To the point where Eddie was thinking of things that were as disgusting as possible to keep himself from getting a stiffy, but it was hard.

*Wink, wink, nudge, nudge*

Okay so that was a bad pun even for himself. But with the clothes getting more revealing and the hair and makeup becoming simpler, they managed to all the remaining outfits that day with only the nude shots left to do by the time the day was done.

Steve patted him on the shoulder on the way out. “It’s been great working with you, Eddie. I can’t wait until tomorrow to really get to the meat of this shoot.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment and realized that he really meant it. He was happy to have worked with him and couldn’t wait to do it again.

He stood there watching the four of them go, laughing and teasing each other. It really made Eddie ache for seeing his friends other than the occasional lunch or drinks. It made him ache for home and Wayne.

He pulled out his phone. “Hey, Chrissy. After this shoot, clear my schedule. I want to take some time off to see Wayne.” He hung up knowing she would take care of it and text him the details. He looked up at the sky a moment and let out a shuddering breath. Yeah it was time to go home.

~

It was time for the last part of the shoot, the part Eddie had been dreading all week. He knew that Steve had told him that it would just be the two of them unless hair or makeup needed to be touched up. But he had been told something was a closed set before to not really have it be so his hopes weren’t really that high.

But as soon as he stepped out in his black satin robe, none of the girls were to be seen. He looked around nervously.

“Um, I thought that I’d see Robin and Max around,” he admitted, pulling the robe tightly around his waist.

Steve smiled that beaming grin of his at him and Eddie fucking melted. “I’ll call them if they’re needed and of course cover you up so they don’t see if you prefer it like that.”

Eddie still wasn’t sure what to make of this man so he just nodded. He spent a couple of minutes trying to hype himself up.

“Would it help if I put on music?” Steve asked after a few minutes. “I consulted my assistant for the best metal music so I could get inspiration for the shoot.”

Eddie looked up at Steve in wide-eyed wonder. “You’d do that for me?”

“Sure,” Steve said pulling out his phone. “It’s not like we’re filming and need the sound for anything.” He turned on the music and turned it up. “They’re all songs I liked from what he had me listen to, so I hope it’s not too terrible.”

One by Metallica came on and Eddie bobbed his head in approval. “It’s an oldie for sure, but a goodie too.”

Steve beamed at him, turning his phone up as high as it could go and set it on a nearby table. “Just let me know if you want me to skip anything.”

Eddie nodded and then finally dropped the robe. He got settled on the red satin sheets, he long hair fanning out around his head like a halo.

Steve forced down the lump in his throat at how absolutely beautiful this man was. He put the camera up in front of his face to distance himself from the angel sprawled out on the bed. He line up his shot and took his first photo. He pulled it back to see it and nodded in approval.

He walked over to the bed. “You want to see?”

Eddie propped himself up on one elbow to peer over Steve’s arm to look at the display. “Wow.”

It was beyond wow, if he was honest, but that was the only word he had in that moment. He had never seen himself looking for vulnerable and open before. He was blown away.

“I’ll take that,” Steve said with hearty laugh. “Let’s knock this out of the ballpark, yeah?”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, man. Let’s do that.” He settled back into place and let Steve get to work.

Every once in awhile Robin or Max would have to come out and redo his hair or makeup, but each time Steve would make sure Eddie was covered and then let them come out.

Then Steve shifted nervously from one foot to the other, chewing his lip. “I have an idea for some of the shots, but I don’t know if you’d want to do it?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s ya got, Stevie?”

“I want to get close ups of the makeup,” he said, shyly ducking his head. “And for that I’d have to get on the bed with you.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, Eddie could see where Steve might not want to cross that line or even have Eddie let him cross that line. But he thought about it from an artistic point of view and it would be hot as hell.

“Do it,” he said firmly. “You need the shots, you know it’s the best way to the get the shots. Get your shot.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, risking looking up to see Eddie’s expression. It wasn’t guarded or closed off, it was open and friendly. And maybe a little lascivious.

“Yeah,” Eddie said with a wink and a grin. “Come on, big boy. Show me what you’ve got.”

Steve took off his shoes and socks and padded over to the bed, camera in hand. He started taking pictures the closer he got. Then when he got to the foot of the bed, Eddie turned his charm up to eleven, and Steve was helpless to resist.

He started with one knee on the bed, then two. Then he began to pan up Eddie’s body, breathing out instructions and watching as Eddie followed each one. Then for the final shot Steve straddled Eddie’s torso just below his ribs.

The final shutter went off with the bright light of the flash. Steve had moved the camera to the side and stared down at Eddie in amazement. It was like they were as frozen as the still frame in his camera.

Eddie was just as caught as Steve was. It was like he had his soul taken with that last shot but instead of feeling bereft, he felt a sense of elation.

Suddenly there was a loud ringing over the sound of the music and the moment snapped back into focus. Steve looked over his shoulder at the sound then back at Eddie. He carefully got off of him and handed him the robe.

He walked over to his phone and picked it up to answer it. “Hello?”

Eddie pulled on the robe as he watched Steve on the phone. It was clear it was the rep lady, probably asking about how much longer they would need. He didn’t know how long Steve was going to be so he decided to head back to the dressing room.

As he passed, he gave Steve a little wave and Steve waved back. A dorky little finger wave and he was fucking charmed.

He was in the robe getting his makeup removed and hair washed to get all the chemicals she used make it do what Steve wanted, when Steve knocked on the door.

“Hey, guys!” Steve said cheerfully. “Well done everyone. I was just on the phone with Kimmy and so far the owners, Maggie Burton and Dottie Cox have loved all the shots so far.”

“Yeah?” Eddie said, hopeful, opening one eye carefully to look at Steve. “That’s great news.” He closed the eye again and settled so Robin could finish her work.

“Just wait until they see the nudes,” Steve replied, flopping on the chair he sat in on the first day. He watched Eddie get pampered by Max and Robin as Ellie worked to get all the clothes bagged up and put away.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “I have a really good feeling about this shoot. Like award winning feelings.”

Suddenly Eddie was forced to sit upright at the strength of the thrust of Ellie shoving a bag into his arms. “Oof!”

“Those are the boots you really liked and the linen shirt,” she said with a grin. “The other clothes will be sent to your address at your convenience.”

Eddie grinned. “You’re best Lady Eliwen! Actually all of you are. Like I’ve never had a shoot run so smoothly before. I really hope this shoot puts your name on the map because you all deserve it!”

“Thanks!” Robin said. “I’m all done with you, so all that’s left is Max putting in the conditioner and you’re all done and dusted!”

Max gently worked the leave in conditioner into his hair and then she washed her hands. “All right, you’re free.”

Eddie gave them all hugs goodbye, even Steve and left wearing the shirt and boots Ellie had given him.

“Hit me up the next time you’re in LA,” Eddie told Steve tapping him on the shoulder and pointing at him. “We’ll have brunch. There is this great little Italian place I think you’d love.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “I’m going to hold you to that!”

Eddie got in the car and as it drove off he looked back at Steve and his ladies, feeling a pang of loneliness. His friends and family were all over the place now. Jeff was a theatre actor on Broadway, Brian was game composer, and Gareth was a studio musician for when they needed a pro to fill in on drums. Wayne was still out in old Hawkins, even if his prospects were better now. He still missed them. Maybe he’d get them all out to LA for a reunion or something.

After visiting Wayne of course.

~

Part 9 Part 10

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chaotic-waffle @steddieislife @oh-no-its-danger-gays @ollieolive @micheledawn1975

10- @little-birch-boy @alfhitchblonde @tartarusknight @chocolateracconlights @spookycollectorcandies

[petriwriting]

Like the movies - Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary: Ex lovers meet again and rekindle the romance they once had.

Fluff, Older!Theo, Post graduation 

A/N: this is based on a cheesy hallmark christmas movie I watched a while ago. this fic will be fluffy, but also kind of cheesy so be warned. No mentions of book canon events (like the battle at Hogwarts) Italics are flashbacks or letters. 

The busy streets murmured with chatter and the sounds of footsteps. It was like any other day, It was the midday rush. Witches and wizards scurried past you to get their afternoon coffees and quick to-go lunches in between their snobby ministry jobs, men in nice suits and colorful ties and women in heels. The perfect setting for the busy city. The rough cobblestone streets threatened your ankles with every step, but you were used to them so much that you could walk quickly in a rhythm with them. You exhaled a soft pillow of air from your lungs, watching it sail away in the cold air. It was a bit windy, with an unexpected chill. Your fingertips felt cold so you buried them into your coat pockets seeking warmth, decidedly finding refuge from the chatter of the street in a small coffee shop. The warmth immediately embraced you and it was a sweet relief. You recognized the scent of fresh bread and pastries, standing in line to order yourself a hot tea to beat the cold, maybe a croissant if they had one.

The usual crowd was there, people for business meetings, mothers grabbing a quick bite, and servers busing tables and wiping down surfaces. As you wandered up, you noticed something. A tall man stood in front of you with a beanie, you couldn't quite read the menu from behind him. He stood next to a blonde woman who held onto his arm. His cologne... you knew that scent. You couldn't possibly miss it. It was Theodore Nott. He had turned around, as if on cue, to meet your eyes, surprised to see it was really you. He smiled softly, although at first his mouth was agape for a short moment in shock. You looked even better than you did when he had seen you at school last. 

In that moment, all the memories flooded the both of you. Soft touches, running your fingers through his soft hair, The candlelight anniversary you spent in the astronomy tower, kissing on the Hogwarts express to make up for lost time after not seeing each other over the summer, skinny dipping in the black lake, sneaking around the corridors at night. It felt like reliving a romantic novel, nostalgic and sweet like candy. it was starting to make you wonder why you had ever broken up in the first place. But then you remembered the harsh reality in front of you. He was clearly with a woman, maybe his girlfriend, or his wife. You had no clue. He had moved on from you, that was that. Despite all these emotions, you were honest with yourself. It was still good to see him after all this time. 

"Hi." he said gently. "Hi," you replied. The woman by his arm looked confused "Teds, who is this?" she asked. Ted. you knew he hated when people called him ted. "This... This is Y/N." he said. "A friend from school." He said. you smiled. "It's good to see you!" you chimed. The woman put herself between the two of you, "I'm Mel, Ted's fiance." She said with a quirky smile. She did not seem bothered by you, but she was curious, and it was clear you must have been a soft spot for you based on what she had said next. "I recognize you," she said, tilting her head. "You are in that picture on our wall, all dressed up in quidditch gear." You know which picture she is referring to, because you have a copy of the same photograph. It makes you elated to know he still has your picture up on the wall after all this time. "Well it's good to finally meet you," she smiled sweetly. "I studied in America but I love seeing what school life was like for Hogwarts alumni." The woman said, her blonde curls bounced when she turned her head towards theo. "Maybe we could get a coffee together sometimes? I didn't know you were in town." He said. You nodded. You never really left. "That would be nice, you know where to find me," you chuckled softly. "Aww, it'll be like a reunion!" Mel chirped. The couple in front of you turned and ordered their drinks, and you did the same right after them. Once your drink was ready, an herbal tea, you rushed out the door to get some air.

You were in slight disbelief, but you had heard from a professor once that love would find its way back to you if it was meant to be.

. . . . . .

Nostalgia had hit you the next day, you woke up and stayed in bed for a while, turning over every memory in your mind from your school days that seemed so far away yet just like they had happened yesterday at the same time. You crawled over the edge of your bed, grabbing a small shoe box. you sat up and slowly opened the cardboard lid to reveal a gathering of photographs and trinkets. You saw the same photograph Mel had mentioned seeing you in, your thumb running over the glossy surface of the photograph lightly. Then, another photograph, you remembered Pansy Parkinson had taken the picture and said with a big smile "Cheers to the handsome couple!", in which Theo was sat down and you had your arms around him from behind, you smiled at the camera while he had his eyes on you with a smirk. Another photo was a group class photo, all your classmates and friends. Another photo was you and Theo the night of the yule ball, dressed in your nicest robes and Theo with a bowtie to match your dress, you were hugging his side tightly while his arm was around you. The nostalgic ache returned in your stomach as you felt a longing for your lost days. There was Theo's old Slytherin class ring he had given you as a promise ring, the shiny silver and emerald gem held up nicely over the years. And there was a beaded friendship bracelet from your best friend in there. It was full of fond memories, and a tender feeling overwhelmed you until your fingers had led you to a small, thick envelope full of parchment. 

It was a letter, enchanted by the smell of rose. It had slightly smeared, navy ink in messy handwriting on it. The nostalgic feeling became a bit too overwhelming, so you had to take a deep breath as you contemplated tossing the letter back in the box and never opening it again, or reading the sentiments it contained. you decided on the later, slowly unfolding the parchment with a crinkle sound, greeted by familiar messy cursive penmanship. 

Y/N, I can't wait to see you again. I have some news. My father is taking me to Italy after graduation. I would love to take you with me. He says he has an opportunity lined up for me to work there. He said he wants me to attend college there, like he and my grandfather have done. There's so many beautiful things there to see, and I want to have you by my side for all of it. I've missed you so much this summer, each one feels like an eternity without you.  I have my mothers ring, I want you to have it and wear it when I see you again.  I want to marry you, and wake up next to you every day. I want to start a life together.  I cannot wait until we can start our lives together officially. I love you. so much.  We will catch up when I see you again in the coming weeks.          - With love, your teddy.

After reading the letter, tears welled in your eyes, and you would have cried for an hour if it weren't for your responsibilities calling you. It ached to know he had moved on, that he had found someone else. You felt like you had just been left behind, and it pained you to know that under different circumstances, maybe, you would have married him and gone with him on his travels. But the thought of Mel wearing his mothers ring just did not sit right with you, and it was hard to be truly happy for them. You wanted whatever was best for him, even now. 

. . . . . .

Weeks had passed, and Theodore had contemplated dialing you, or sending you an owl. But he didn't, because truthfully he wasn't sure what to say without sounding desperate. He sat in his home office, it was a late evening. He had a small flat with Mel, he could hear her stirring around the place getting ready for bed. He would never tell you, but they had been arguing a lot lately. He had gotten engaged to Mel in the spring, to please her parents who wanted her to be married very soon. He had only been with her for a whole one year now. It felt rushed, and They both wondered if the feelings of doubt were normal or an intuitive sign that maybe it wasn't right after all. Mel was gravely offended and upset that Theodore had purchased a ring to propose to her, rather than giving her his mothers wedding ring that had been passed down and in his family for many generations. And in turn, Theo was upset that Mel was selfish, only ever wanting to do things she took pleasure in, not truly listening to him. 

He exhaled, and tapped his quill against the blank page. No words could come out. He thought comfort from old friends would be kind. He had already written Draco recently, who was expecting a baby with Astoria Greengrass, his now wife. His life seemed to fall into place perfectly after school. It didn't seem fair. He even checked up on some of his other buddies from those days. Nothing seemed to give a truly nostalgic happiness quite like seeing you that day had. He still knew how you liked your coffee, your favorite song, hoping it hadn't changed. He felt slightly empty in his day to day life. But he had no idea you were still in town until he had run into you.

"Ted!" Mel called. He hated when she would yell, rather than just walking over to where he was. "Yes?" Theo called. He sighed. Mel popped her head into his office. "Have you seen my watch? the gold one, I can't find it anywhere." Theo looked at her, empty handed and he truthfully had not the slightest clue where it could be. "No idea." He said flatly. "Is everything ok?" she asked him suspiciously. "yes." Theo had said. "Just tired." He said. "Oh... well don't be up too late, you'll have to see me off in the morning." She said, and then went back to looking for her watch. She had been packing. Right. Theodore had remembered Mel was going to be out of town for the next two weeks, going back to America for her school reunion. He had forgotten, but he didn't want to admit to her it was going to be nice to be alone for a bit, he could reflect and figure out his loneliness. 

The next morning, Theo woke up at 11:30am. He had slept in. Mel was going to be furious. she must have been already on the train by now, at least a hundred miles away. He sighed in discouragement, writing her an owl immediately to apologize to her. She would be very upset when she got back home, and Theo would probably never hear the end of it from her, but it wasn't like it was a 6 month cruise across the world, it was only 2 short weeks. She should be fine, or at least he used that to reassure himself. He kept thinking of you whenever his mind wandered, especially when he was reminded of his school days. He remembered how sweet you were, and how you were his very first love. 

He spent the morning finding you in a phone book Mel had purchased, with almost everyone who lived locally. His fingers gently skimmed over the ink that said your name and address. After some time, he contemplated his decision to go see you, finally deciding that he would. Theo made himself a quick breakfast, dressed and headed out the door.

When he arrived at your flat, he knew you would likely have been spending the day in bed, sleepy. That's always how you spent sundays when you were younger. His feet carried him to the door, but he could not bring himself to knock at first. He hesitated, toying with the idea of just leaving, but there was a part of him that was still fond of you that kept his feet locked in place at your door. He gently knocked on the door, hearing you shuffling about inside for a few minutes before you answered. 

You gasped when you saw him. "Theo," you exclaimed happily. He was right, you were wearing pajamas and a robe over top. "Please come in." you said. "I'm happy you came to see me." you said. "Me too," he admitted. "How is Mel doing, where is she this morning?" you asked hesitantly. "She's out of town, actually." he said, sounding slightly saddened. 

"Oh. Well hopefully you won't be alone too long." you offered. "Would you like some tea?" Theo nodded, hoping you still remembered he liked a bit of honey, and one sugar cube to chew on while it cooled. It was a ritual of his. you closed the door once he entered, and walked over to the kitchen to put on some hot water in the kettle. 

"I'm glad you're here," you said. "really." you said gently. "Please have a seat." you offered, Theo sat at your kitchen island and everything suddenly felt strange, like things were just right where they were always meant to be. "I just wanted to catch up, see what you were up to," he said. "And sorry if you had plans today I could just leave if it's too much trouble-" You cut him off, "No-no. I'm fine. I enjoy your company." you said softly. 

"So what have you been up to? I hear you're getting married soon?" you asked fake excitedly. 

"Yes, about that..." he trailed off. You looked at him and frowned. "Is everything ok with Mel?" you asked him somewhat concerned. "Oh, yes yes, of course." he lied. "I ... was actually going to ask if you still had my mothers ring." You wanted to burst into tears, but maintained a cool and mature demeanor, something you were never good at. Your heart had dropped right out of your chest and into your lower stomach, smelling and causing a slight nausea. "oh, Yes I believe I still do... It's probably somewhere with my old things from school, I could find it for you."

"That would be great," he said. "Mel seems like a kind girl, erm. How did you guys meet?" You stammered, there was a bit of awkward tension  now. 

"My Father was mates with hers when they were younger, He introduced us." Theo explained. one thing you knew about him was that he did not have the best relationship with his father. "That sounds nice. I'm glad you have someone." you said gently. 

"Are you seeing anyone?" He asked you, quite blunt. "Oh, erm, no,-no. I'm not." you said. 

"Oh," Theo said. "Any guy would be lucky to have you. I'm surprised."

"Thanks. Just haven't found the right person I guess." you said softly, with an exhale the kettle began its drawn out whistle and you grabbed two saucers and two cups for the tea, dropping a bit of sugar in yours and putting a few sugar cubes onto Theo's plate, you sat it down on the counter and returned to the cabinet to grab some honey and a spoon for him. He smiled to himself as he watched you. You hadn't changed that much, still the same version of yourself that he had fallen in love with all those years ago. 

"Anyway, The ring," you said stiffening up. "I'll have to look through my old things but I'm positive it's here somewhere. I know it's an old family heirloom, so I didn't ever throw it away." 

you said, holding the cup of tea to warm your hands. "Are you proposing to Mel?" you asked. 

"Well, I already did. My father mentioned that damn ring and she was upset that I bought one since I didn't have it at the time." he sighed heavily. "I'm sorry to hear that."  you replied. "I can look for it now." you set your mug down, and scurried off towards your bedroom. Theo chuckled to himself as he watched you. 

You searched your closet first, then drawers, and cabinets. anywhere in your bedroom that you could have stashed it away. You kept it on a chain, until the day you would be ready to wear it on your finger again, but when that time never came seeing it made you sad. 

Theodore approached with his mug, his boots alarming you to his every step, He leaned in the doorway and sipped his tea. "You don't have to find it today." he said gently, trying to ease your frantic searching. He felt bad about it, knowing it might ache for you the way it did for him. 

"I think, It's in here, just- wait," you said, tossing around your things to find it in your closet. While you were distracted, Theodore sat at the end of your bed, seeing the small box "Memories" written on it in your handwriting. He didn't want to snoop, but it was already open. He couldn't help but peek at the contents. He set his mug of tea on your bedside table and grabbed one of the photographs, It was the picture of you with your arms around him. He took a moment, wanting to cry for those good days when you were both happy, but not wanting to embarrass himself. He had to shake the fluttery feeling off, and remind himself that he was engaged, and the wedding venue was picked out, and his fiance's family had already started planning things. 

He longed for you, for your touch, your scent, your gentle voice all of you. But he couldn't tell you. He found himself staring at the photo, his thumb gently tracing over it. he smiled. 

His silence had caught your attention when you had fallen short trying to find the ring. You turned around and flushed pink. "So sorry," you said, knowing he had already seen the photos and letters he had written you as a young man. You quickly grabbed the box, and turned to stash it away when you had tripped over a sock on your floor, the photos wisped over the floor, his scarf falling out and unrolling itself, and you were both startled by the "Cling" sound of something falling onto your wooden floors. "I found it!" you exclaimed, collecting yourself to your feet, it was a silver plated ring with ornate detailing on it and a polished diamond in the center. You had kept it around a chain to wear around your neck when you missed him after the break up...

You held it out to Theo in your hand with a sigh. His fingers grazed your hand as he picked it up and held it between his fingers. "Thanks," he said.

. . . . . .

Just before graduation, you found yourself lying on the soft bed of grass by the black lake, with theo by your side. One arm was behind his head acting as a pillow, and the other was in his jumper pocket fiddling with his mothers ring. You had gotten his letter, you knew he wanted to, but you had no idea what would come next.

"I love you." he said, sincerely and simply. "I love you." You replied quickly. He sighed, sitting up after a moment. "Teddy?" you cooed, seeing he was distraught. "Y/N," he exhaled softly, you felt your stomach sink down and your body melted into the earth's touch, you were nervous. He was acting strangely. "My father has arranged for me to leave. He insists that I go on my own." he said. he sounded weak, like a wounded animal. "I know I already promised this to you," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the shiny ring that was once his mothers.

"But I want you to keep this until I come back."  you looked at him, your glassy eyes looked like they could cry any second, and it shattered his heart.  you leaned forward and kissed him passionately, his soft lips colliding with yours. 

.   .   .

After graduation, Theo had seemingly disappeared, He didn't owl you or try to contact you at all, and it hurt tremendously. Finally, after asking around and searching for him for days, you had his mothers ring around your neck on a chain, going to the last resort. You walked up to the Nott manor slowly, anxiety rising in your chest you forced your breath to steady. You had to convince yourself he wasn't kidnapped, hurt or worse. You walked up the brick steps and placed a stern knock on the door. 

After a while, his father finally answered. He was displeased to see you. "My boy doesn't want to see you," he said. "You should just go home." he snapped at you, his tone was rude. "Where is Theodore- Is he okay?" you asked, he was tempted to shut the door in your face but he humored you. "Theodore is doing fine. But he Does Not want to see you anymore." he said again, this time louder and more aggressive. "And that doesn't belong to you." he said, reaching for the ring around your neck. You stepped back and tucked it into your shirt. "Tell me where he is." you insisted. "Absolutely not. We don't need filth like you in our bloodline.. My boy can do better." He snarled and slammed the door, click, he locked it. 

Your eyes welled with tears as you ran off from his street, breathing so heavily you were hyperventilating. You were left so confused, and hurt. Theo wouldn't possibly do that to you, he'd tell you right?

.   .   .

The night Theodore left, he was at the Nott manor gathering his things and packing. His father stood in the doorway, ready to diffuse the situation if heaven-forbid he decided to run away. "Where is Y/N?" Theo asked, he was still wearing his slytherin sweater despite no longer being a student technically. The thick wool brought him comfort. "I have to see her before I go anywhere." Theodore stood up to his father, ready for conflict. 

"She's gone." He snapped. "She said she doesn't want to see you. and she made off with your mothers ring, probably selling it for cash.." he muttered. "She wouldn't do that. You are a filthy liar." he snapped through gritted teeth. "Tell me where she is or I won't go." Theodore's father laughed in his face, "You're going boy, even if we have to restrain you." 

Before Theodore could lunge at his father, he had disarmed him and some of his fathers cronies had appeared to restrain Theo, and stun him. He put up quite the fight before he was finally defeated. 

. . . . . .

In the coming two weeks, you had made it a habit to see Theodore nearly everyday, falling back into the old familiar friendship you both missed. You went shopping together, he had even made you dinner, and assembled your new dresser for you, yes- you could have used magic to do it, but where is the fun in that?

It felt like domestic bliss, but it had to end. Tomorrow morning, Mel would be back in town and your lives would have to go back to how they were before you had each other in them. Not that you couldn't stay friends, but Mel seemed pushy and you didn't want to pry. You fell back in love within those two weeks of keeping each other company, you were thankful that he came into your life when he had. It was a dull aching love.

You found yourselves sitting on the rooftop patio of your building, overlooking the nice view of the sunset. Theo had pulled up a chair next to yours, closer. You had both of your cups of cocoa, and Theo was smoking a cigarette, a habit he had long forgotten after school, especially because Mel said she hated them, and that they smelled gross. You were never particularly fond of the smell, but it was homely to you because Theo had smoked during his school days. 

He sighed and took a long drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke that slowly disappeared into the air. you turned to him. "So," He said, breaking the silence. "I'm going to leave Mel," he said. You were quite shocked by this, though part of you was not surprised, they didn't seem entirely happy together. 

"Why?" you asked curiously. "She seems sweet, and you have a whole life together planned, why give up now?"

Theo was silent for a while, thoughtfully taking a hit and then a sip. "Because," he began, his words trailing out like puzzle pieces being strung together, until it all finally made sense to you. 

"To be truthful, I don't want to marry her. I don't think I ever did. The only person I ever really wanted to marry... was you. After I left, I wrote to you nearly every day, even after I realized you weren't receiving any of my letters, I still did it because it was comforting. That's why I never asked for the ring back, until I thought about giving it to her, but I think I did that because my father wanted me to. And I've learned to not care what he thinks so much." He said, his voice was soothing, like honey upon your ears. " I don't care what he says, I don't think anything could keep me from you." He says with a desperate exhale, putting out his cigarette. "Teddy?" you said gently. "What are we going to do?" 

"I don't know, but we'll figure it out. and I'm sorry for all the lost years. I want to make it up to you. however I can." He had matured so much as a person, and you saw now that he had blossomed from a boy into a man in those 5 years. You stayed quiet, and smiled softly, his hand grabbed yours, you were now close enough together that you could rest your head on his shoulder as the sunset's warm glow slowly became overwhelmed by darkness. 

. . . . . .

The next morning, it was a rainy and lazy day. you rolled out of bed to the knock on your door. Sheepishly and hesitantly, you wandered across the floor, wondering when the rain had even started. You opened the door, gasping when you were met with a sopping wet Theodore. You smiled, happy to see him again. He breathed heavily as if he had run right to you, dripping water on your door mat. "Mel left me. It's over." he said, with an exasperated breath. You looked concerned for him, knowing that breakups weren't ever pleasant for anyone involved. "Can I kiss you?" he asked. You did not utter a word, instead you kissed him deeply, making up for lost time, Ignoring his wet hair dripping onto your face, It felt like an explosion having his arms wrapped around you again, tasting him, smelling his musky cologne again, feeling the touch of his embrace. He spun you around and you pulled back and smiled. 

"Take it inside you damn kids!" the old woman who lived next door to you muttered before bringing her groceries inside her apartment. you both couldn't help but laugh and smile at each other. 

"Come in, I think you need a shower." you said gently running your fingers through his wet hair. 

"One more thing," He said, reaching into his pockets, grabbing his mothers ring that was still on your silver chain from the last time you wore it. "This belongs to you. I shouldn't have asked for it back." Now inside, you smiled again and kissed him once more, It was the start of a rekindling of an old flame, officially now of course. You both couldn't possibly feel more in love than you did in that moment. 

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics that involve characters using sign language as requested in this ask. You can find my other fic recs here. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

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💜 Is it a sign? by bluegreenish / @greenblueish

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💜 Whipped Cream by @writingstylinson

(T, 24k, pining) Harry is a deaf photographer in charge of taking Lottie's wedding pictures. Louis is determined for Harry to be his plus one.

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- Rare Pairs -

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(T, 5k, Zayn/Niall) Niall’s a musician, Zayn’s an artist. Music and art are their lives, respectively. And the story shouldn't be much more complicated from there. But it is, because Zayn is deaf.

[nouvellevqgue]

✦ OH DAMN NEVER SEEN THAT COLOR BLUE, C. LECLERC

red is indeed his color, but what if he switched to blue?

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charles_leclerc added a photo to their story!

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 740,129 more

yourusername new shirt alert.

👤: charles_leclerc

view all 89,570 comments...

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danielricciardo 👀😁

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⤷ redbullracing 👀👀

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ˑ⭒ʚ ִtwitter ݁.٭

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, yourusername, pierregasly, and 948,201 more

charles_leclerc my favorite one to hold, forever to keep

view all 259,170 comments...

username oh no since when he became poetic😦

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⤷ charles_leclerc i know.

yourusername

liked by brielarson, isahernaez, charles_leclerc, and 729,566 more

yourusername i swear it's blue irl

view all 62,420 comments...

username ASUEHDHEJSJJWSJSJSNSJD

username THE ROMANCE IS BACK

username it's more greenish though

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username once again charles with blue accent spotted: plaster

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alex_albon i see max is already going to do his usual maxplaining in front of me now. help me

⤷ lilymhe omw to the rescue

⤷ username is it because of the blue ore green thing?

⤷ alex_albon apparently yes.

yourusername added to their story!

caption: gotcha

[ao3-rex1223]

𝕿𝖔 𝕭𝖊 𝕬 𝕶𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖉𝖞: 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Tags: SFW, pure fluff, warm Christmas vibes, family photos, Leon being a good dad, raising a child, child's first Christmas, present opening

Summary: You and Leon have a lovely baby girl and she gets to experience her first Christmas. (This takes place in the same universe as my very first Leon Kennedy fic, To Be A Kennedy)

“Smile!” The chipper photographer directs, hoping that the simple word will be enough to get your one year old daughter to look at the camera and look even slightly happy. Her chubby cheeks bunch up even more as her mouth widens in an adorable grin, not at the direction of the well meaning camera man but at the jingling stuffed bunny with bells around its collar being dangled by the flamboyantly dressed elf. Jingle Bell Rock plays softly in the background and snow falls outside, covering the city in a fluffy, white, but frozen blanket. 

Click!

You relax your face and let out the breath you held. One good picture. You just want one good picture of your family. You, Leon, and Annabelle. Your husband nuzzles the crown of your daughter's head affectionately. “You did so good, pumpkin!” he coos, rocking her slightly in his arms. She's such a daddy's girl, always happy to have him holding her. Of course, she loves you, too; hell, you feed her with your body - at least part of the time since she started baby food. But when she's truly distraught, Leon is always able to soothe her. 

And Leon is wrapped so tightly around her tiny, little finger, you're surprised there's any circulation. It's hardest when he's away on a mission, though he does his best to only take ones that are a few days or less. You have pictures and videos of him so Annabelle can look at him whenever she wants. You even took one of his old T-shirts and fashioned it into a shirt for her teddy bear so it smells like him. You spray his cologne on it every time he leaves for an assignment.  

“Would you like to see?” The photographer asks gently, offering you the camera. You glance at the small digital screen, smiling at the sweet picture, Annabelle’s bright smile lighting up the entire image. You pay for a few nice prints to send to friends and family and continue perusing the mall. Annabelle babbles as she takes in the sights, Leon bouncing her occasionally. You both take note of the things that seem to catch her eye; ideas for her Christmas presents. Mostly, she awes at the big ornaments and lights decorating the walls and ceilings. 

Later that night, you and Leon begin setting up the Christmas tree while Annabelle plays with her toys. Eventually she crawls over by the tree and grabs a part of the string of lights, beaming at their bright colors. She makes an adorable babble and puts one of the lights in her mouth. You and Leon chuckle. “Ah, the unique methods of children for discovering the world and its flavors,” Leon comments. He hooks another ornament on the tree. 

“And textures,” you add with a chuckle. You gently pick her up, kissing her cherubic cheeks. She reaches for the glass balls decorating the tree but you quickly shift away, just out of reach. 

“Ah!” Annabelle cries in protest, reaching even further for the tantalizing orb. “Ball!” She adds, chirping one of the few words she knows so far. 

“Sweetie, that's glass. Not safe for you,” you gently explain, knowing she can't fully understand you. She starts to cry, reaching for the shiny, colorful ball so much, she's practically dangling from your arms. You bounce her gently, attempting to soothe her. Walking to her pile of toys, you pick up a baby safe ball for her to play with. She ignores it, continuing to scream and reach for the thing she can’t have. 

Leon walks over, sitting down next to the two of you. Annabelle crawls into his lap, needing her papa to make her feel better. “It's okay, pumpkin. Daddy's gotcha.” He lightly kisses the crown of her head. “You have so many nice toys here to play with!” He wraps his arms delicately around her, offering her the warm snuggles she wants. He gently rocks her and soon her cries begin to wane. “That's my brave girl!” he praises and nuzzles her forehead, eliciting a soft giggle from her. 

The beautiful scene makes you smile lovingly. Watching Leon be there for her, comfort her, and care for her is one of the greatest gifts you could ever receive. Crawling back down, she grabs her baby blanket and crawls under the Christmas tree, laying on her back and looking up at the faux fir. She giggles as she grasps the metal branches, securely in place, and the plastic green needles. Eventually, she grabs her toes and sways back and forth. 

Your heart swells with love and affection as you and Leon stop decorating and simply watch her absorb the world around her. Once her bedtime rolls around, you scoop her into your arms and feed her one last time, rocking gently in the recliner. When her tiny tummy is full and her eyes begin drooping, you simply hold her as she falls asleep. With a delicate kiss to her forehead, you gently lay her in her crib, tucking her blanket next to her. 

The weeks before Christmas fly by as you and Leon try to finish up everything at the D.S.O. and get all of the presents wrapped. On Christmas morning, you bring a sleepy Annabelle out to the living room where lots of shiny presents lay illuminated under the soft, inviting glow of the lit Christmas tree, just waiting for her to tear them open. 

“She's still booting up,” you joke as you and Leon both watch her rub her eyes and try to process the scene before her, expression blank. After a few minutes, she begins to wiggle and squirm in your arms, reaching for the brightly colored wrapping paper. You chuckle and set her down. She begins tugging and chewing on the smaller presents. 

You hand Leon a present to him from you. “Merry Christmas, my love,” you coo with a soft kiss to his lips. 

Leon smiles, happily returning your kiss. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He swiftly unwraps the box and reveals a beautiful, light brown, leather jacket with wool trim. His eyes widen in recognition, its appearance strikingly similar to the jacket he lost in Spain all those years ago. “This is…”

“I found it a few weeks ago while I was out shopping. I thought you deserved another one.” You wink playfully. Annabelle crawls into your lap and continues nibbling on wrapping paper. 

Leon examines every inch of the jacket, in awe. “Thank you, sweetheart. This is incredible. I love it…and I love you.” He kisses you tenderly and hands you a present from him. It's a gorgeous white gold necklace with a pendant in the shape of a key, accented with small diamonds. Your eyes light up at its beauty. “Oh Leon! It’s perfect!”

“It’s the key to my heart,” Leon explains with a cheeky grin and a wink. His cheesy lines always were a favorite of yours. 

You brush the tears away from your eyes. “Corn dog,” you tease and kiss him lovingly. He chuckles. You turn your attention to the happy child in your lap. “Should we help you open your presents, now, sweetie?”

The rest of your morning is spent helping Annabelle open her Christmas presents; clothes, toys, books, and some winter wear. Sharing your first Christmas as a family brings you joy you never thought you’d experience. From the first day you stumbled into Leon’s arms at the office, your life changed irrevocably, an adventure you never knew you needed, never in your wildest dreams expected, but here with Leon and your precious baby girl, nothing could be better. 

[lifeofpriya]

pls could you do one based on staying over at Jack’s for the first time 🥹🫶

omg, of course i will!!! 🥺🫶🏼 i may have gone a little steamy with it, but oh well, i don't regret one bit heheh 🤭

Night of Love

wc: 3.63k

"The rain isn't letting up," Jack says, peering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his London apartment. His eyes follow the rivulets snaking down the glass, blurring the city lights into a watercolor canvas of yellows and reds. His voice is a comforting bass, the kind that resonates in the quiet spaces between heartbeats.

You nod, watching him from the plush armchair, a cup of tea cradled in your hands. The warmth seeps into your skin, a stark contrast to the cold outside. The apartment is a testament to Jack's minimalist taste, with clean lines and a muted color palette. Yet, there's a coziness to it, a homely embrace that makes you feel welcomed. You've seen it in photos, of course, but being here, surrounded by his life, is different. More real.

Jack turns away from the window, a soft smile playing on his lips. He's wearing a plain white t-shirt and joggers, his athletic frame relaxed but still hinting at the strength beneath. His dark brown hair is damp from the shower, curling slightly at the ends. He's barefoot, and you notice the calluses on his feet, a map of his dedication to the sport.

You set your hot beverage aside and stand, stretching out your legs. The fabric of your jeans whispers against your skin, the denim a stark contrast to the luxurious carpet beneath your feet. "I didn't pack an umbrella," you admit, half joking.

Jack frowned briefly, his eyebrows knitting together in a moment of concern, "wait, you're not planning on leaving in this weather, are you?" He took a step closer, the air between you thick with unspoken invitations.

You smile shyly, nodding your head, "Yeah, I guess I didn't think it through."

Jack chuckles, a warm sound that fills the room. He steps closer to you, his eyes searching yours. "Why don't you stay the night?" He asks, the question hanging in the air like the scent of rain.

You hesitate, your heart racing. This is new territory, uncharted waters in your relationship. You've been seeing each other for a couple of months, but this is the first time you've been invited to spend the night in his personal space. His apartment reflects his life—structured yet comfortable, a place of rest after the chaos of the tennis courts that he shared with his best friend, Paul, and his older brother/agent, Ben.

Jack's gaze holds yours, his eyes a warm caramel that seems to melt the tension in the air. He's tall, with broad shoulders that speak of hours honed on the practice courts. His t-shirt clings to him in a way that's not at all ostentatious but still highlights the muscles earned from years of dedication. The room feels smaller with him so close, his presence a gentle force that makes you want to lean in.

"Stay," he says again, his voice softer this time, a whisper of a promise. You can see the hope in his eyes, a hint of vulnerability that you haven't noticed before. It's endearing, and it makes your decision easier. "Please?"

You bite your bottom lip, feeling the weight of the moment. You've been careful not to rush things, not to assume. But here, in the sanctity of his apartment, you feel like you're standing at the edge of a cliff, and all you need is a gentle push to leap into the unknown. "Okay," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur.

Jack's smile widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling with relief and happiness. "Great," he says, reaching out to squeeze your hand. His touch is firm but gentle, a silent reassurance that you're not alone in this.

You look around the apartment, taking in the details that you missed before. The framed photographs of Jack with his family, the well-worn tennis rackets standing like sentinels in the corner, the books stacked neatly on the shelves—a mix of biographies, strategy guides, and a few novels that hint at his diverse interests. There's a guitar in the corner, a dusty reminder of a hobby he picked up and hasn't had much time to revisit.

Jack notices your gaze and nods towards the instrument. "My attempt at being a rock star," he says with a self-deprecating smile. "It's not my strongest suit, but it's a good way to unwind."

You laugh, feeling the warmth of the moment expand in your chest. "Maybe I can convince you to play something?"

Jack's eyes light up. "Yeah?" He says, his voice hopeful. "I'd love that."

He leads you over to the guitar, and you take a seat on the floor in front of him as he settles onto the plush sofa. The rain outside is now a backdrop to the intimate moment, a soothing rhythm that seems to echo the beating of your hearts. He strums a few chords, his fingers moving with surprising grace over the strings.

You immediately recognize the tune being that of Wonderwall, his favorite Oasis song, which he had mentioned in passing once during a lazy afternoon at the park. The melody fills the room, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. It's as if the universe has conspired to make this moment as perfect as it could possibly be.

Jack's eyes never leave yours as he sings, his voice a bit raspy but earnest. You listen intently, watching his fingers dance over the strings, creating a symphony of emotions that resonates within you. His words aren't just a cover of a classic song; they're a declaration of his feelings, a serenade to the quiet moments you've shared and the potential of those to come.

You lean in closer, the warmth from his body radiating towards you, mixing with the scent of the rain outside and the faint aroma of his aftershave. It's a heady combination that makes you feel alive, as if the air around you is charged with something electric.

Jack's fingers still the guitar strings as the last note of "Wonderwall" fades into the patter of the rain. He sets the instrument aside and looks at you, his eyes searching yours. "I meant every word," he says, his voice low and earnest.

Your heart skips a beat, the words resonating within you like the lingering vibrations of the song. You lean in, closing the space between you, and press your lips to his in a soft kiss. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and for a moment, the world outside the apartment ceases to exist.

The rain's rhythm becomes the soundtrack to your newfound intimacy as you explore each other, the gentle caress of Jack's hands leaving trails of warmth across your back. His scent, a blend of rain and something uniquely his, fills your nose. You deepen the kiss, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your skin.

Jack's apartment, usually a bastion of order, now holds a chaotic beauty—the cushions askew from your earlier sit, the half-empty mugs of tea forgotten on the coffee table. It's a mess that feels like a declaration of human presence, a reminder that even in a space so meticulously curated, life can be spontaneous and unplanned.

As the rain drums on, Jack reaches for your hand, leading you down the hallway. You follow, the plush carpet a soft whisper underfoot. His bedroom is a sanctuary of dark woods and navy blues, a stark contrast to the rest of the apartment. The bed, a king-sized retreat with crisp white sheets, sits in the center, beckoning you both.

Jack pulls you closer, his eyes searching yours for permission. You nod, the anticipation palpable. His room feels like a secret garden, a place where you can shed the layers of the outside world and just be. He turns off the lights, leaving only the glow of the city outside to cast a soft, flickering light through the gap in the curtains.

The bed is cool and inviting as you both lay down, the rain now a lullaby that sings you into a place of peace. You tuck your legs into his, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. He's gentle, his hands tracing patterns on your skin that tell a story without words.

Jack whispers something in your ear, but the words are lost in the symphony of the rain. You don't need to hear them, though; the sentiment is clear. His eyes hold yours, and you realize that this is what it's like to be seen, truly seen. You're not just the person he's dating; you're the person who's sharing this moment with him.

The bed is like a cloud, enveloping you both in its softness. The city lights outside play tag with the shadows on the ceiling, painting a silent, ever-changing picture of the night. His hands are tentative but sure, a dance of curiosity and care. You melt into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body seep into your very soul.

Jack whispers your name—no, not your name, a word that's just for him, a secret between the two of you—and you smile into the darkness. He's always had a way with words, a gentle poetry that seemed to flow from his fingertips as he played tennis. It's as if he's learned to weave the same magic with his touch, making you feel seen and cherished.

You lean in, the fabric of your shirt cool against your skin as his hands explore the contours of your body. The rain outside is now a cacophony, a crescendo of sound that seems to crescendo with your heartbeat. Each drop hits the window like a drumbeat, setting the rhythm for the dance unfolding in the dim light.

Jack's fingers trace the line of your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his. His kiss is tender, a silent promise that whispers of a future filled with moments like this. You're acutely aware of every sensation: the way your breath mingles with his, the softness of the pillows beneath your head, the steady beat of the rain outside.

"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a gentle rumble. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together. "But I didn't want to rush things."

You nod, understanding his caution. After all, your relationship has been a dance of respect and patience, a delicate tango around the edges of intimacy. But here, in the warm embrace of his bed, it feels as natural as breathing.

Jack pulls away, his eyes searching yours. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble.

You nod, the word "yes" a whisper that barely leaves your lips. The anticipation is a tangible force in the air, a silent symphony that crescendos with the sound of the rain. He kisses you again, his hands moving with newfound confidence. The fabric of your shirt is a barrier that seems to melt away as his fingertips graze your skin.

The room is a cocoon of warmth, the coolness of the rain outside forgotten. Jack's touch is a story in itself, a narrative of yearning and care that you've felt in every moment of your time together. His hands explore your body, each caress a verse that leaves you breathless.

You reciprocate, your own hands learning the landscape of his skin. Each curve and muscle tells a tale of his discipline and passion. You trace the lines of his arms, the sinew and strength that propel him across the tennis courts, and feel a surge of admiration for the man he's become.

Jack pulls you closer, his chest a warm shelter from the storm outside. His heartbeat is a steady bass to the rain's rhythm, a reminder that you're both flesh and bone, both equally affected by the tempest of emotions swirling around you.

You feel the heat of his breath as he whispers sweet nothings that mean everything, words that resonate deep within you like the first chords of a favorite song. His thumb traces circles on the back of your hand, a silent reassurance that he's here, that you're both in this together.

The rain outside is a serenade to the intimacy growing between you, a crescendo of droplets that mirrors the racing of your heart. The sound of the city is a distant lullaby, muffled by the walls of the apartment. It's just you and Jack, the rain, and the rhythm of your intertwined hearts.

Jack's hands are warm, a stark contrast to the coolness of the room. He's careful, reading the subtle cues of your body, making sure that every touch is a step in the right direction. You can feel his passion, his desire, but it's not rushed. It's a gentle exploration, a silent conversation of skin and breath.

As the rain crescendos outside, so does the intensity of your connection. Your hands wander up his back, feeling the contours of his muscles, tracing the lines that speak of countless hours on the tennis court. His skin is smooth, a testament to the care he takes in maintaining his physique. You press closer, feeling the heat of him, the steady rhythm of his heart matching the pulse of the rain.

Jack's eyes, those greenish hazel pools that could melt the toughest of hearts, searched yours for any sign of doubt or hesitation. He found none. The rain outside had turned into a soothing lullaby, and the warmth of his apartment was a stark contrast to the cold, wet world beyond the windows. The air was thick with anticipation, the scent of rain and the faint aroma of his aftershave swirling around you.

You reached up, your hand brushing against the scruff on his cheek, feeling the roughness that was so at odds with the tenderness of his kisses. His hand slid up the back of your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. The world outside the apartment faded away as you became lost in the dance of your limbs, the gentle give and take of your kisses.

Jack's apartment was a fortress against the storm, but the rain was a persistent drummer, setting the tempo for the crescendo of your feelings. His room, usually so orderly, reflected the tumultuous beauty of the moment, clothes scattered and the scent of rain mingling with the faint musk of arousal.

Jack's eyes searched yours, questioning, as his hand slid under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips grazing your waist. You nodded, a silent yes that seemed to echo through the room, resonating with the pitter-patter outside. His touch was like a secret promise, a gentle caress that whispered of things to come.

He pulled away for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face as if memorizing every detail.

Jack's hands were warm and calloused as they traced the lines of your body, a stark contrast to the smoothness of your skin. His touch was a story in itself, a narrative of longing and care that you felt in every moment of your shared intimacy. Each stroke, each caress, was a verse that left you breathless.

You felt the rain's rhythm pulsing through the room, setting the pace for the passion building between you. The city lights played tag with the shadows on the ceiling, casting a soft, flickering glow that painted the room in a palette of midnight blues. It was a silent conversation, one of skin against skin, of breath mingling with whispers of love.

Jack's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray strand of hair. His eyes searched yours, a question lingering in the air. You leaned into his touch, your heart racing as his fingertips traced the line of your collarbone, the fabric of your shirt giving way to the warmth of his skin. His eyes were pools of molten emotion, and you felt yourself drowning in them, a willing participant in this silent ballet of desire.

The rain outside had become a backdrop to the symphony of your breaths, each inhale and exhale a crescendo of passion. The room was a cocoon of warmth, a sanctuary from the cold embrace of the London night. The scent of rain mixed with the musk of your bodies, creating a heady perfume that seemed to thicken the air.

Jack's eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the space between you. You nodded, the word "yes" a silent agreement that echoed through the room. The rain's rhythm grew softer as he gently tugged your shirt over your head, revealing the softness of your skin. The fabric whispered against your body, a sweet goodbye as it fell to the floor.

You sat before him, a canvas of desire, your breathing shallow and quick. He took in the sight of you, his eyes roaming every curve, every inch. His gaze was a warm caress, a silent promise that you were the most beautiful person he'd ever laid eyes on. The room was bathed in the flickering glow of the city lights, the shadows playing across your skin like lovers' hands.

Jack leaned in, his breath a warm whisper across your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His hands, those capable, strong hands that had sent countless tennis balls flying across the courts, were now tender, exploring the landscape of your body with a gentle reverence.

You felt the rain's rhythm pulsing through the room, a living, breathing entity that mirrored the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Each drop hit the window like a heartbeat, a reminder that outside this haven of warmth and passion, the world continued, unknowing of the transformation occurring within these four walls.

Jack's eyes searched yours, and in that moment, you realized how much you'd come to trust him. He wasn't just the charming, talented tennis player; he was your confidant, your partner in navigating the tumultuous seas of life. You nodded, the word "yes" a silent agreement that seemed to echo through the apartment, resonating with the rain's melody.

He leaned in, his breath a warm caress against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His fingertips traced the contours of your body with a gentle reverence, a silent declaration of his intentions. The rain outside was a serenade to your burgeoning love, each drop a note in a symphony that sang of desire and vulnerability.

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, feeling the roughness of his scruff. Your eyes searched his, looking for any sign of doubt, any reason to hold back. But all you found was the same yearning that mirrored your own, the same need to be closer.

Jack leaned in, his breath warm against your skin as he kissed you, the gentle pressure of his lips telling you that he felt the same way. The rain outside had turned into a symphony, a crescendo that seemed to pulse in time with your heart.

You reached up to trace the line of his jaw with your fingers, feeling the scruff that had grown over the day. His skin was hot, and you could feel his pulse racing under the pad of your thumb. You kissed him back, eagerly, and with every passing second, the barriers between you seemed to dissolve. The rain outside had become a gentle lullaby, the perfect score to the tender dance you were engaged in.

Jack's touch grew bolder, his hands exploring the softness of your skin as if he were learning the strings of a new guitar. Your heart raced with every brush of his fingertips, the rain outside a gentle crescendo that seemed to encourage your intimacy. The room was alive with the sound of your breaths, the whisper of fabric, and the sweet nothings you exchanged in the candlelit darkness.

"You're so beautiful," Jack murmured against your neck, his breath hot and tantalizing.

You felt your cheeks flush at the compliment, a smile playing on your lips. "And you're not so bad yourself," you teased, running your fingers through his damp hair. The rain outside had turned into a gentle patter, a soft serenade to the unfolding passion.

Jack chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He leaned back, taking you with him so that you were straddling his lap. His hands slid up your back, pressing you closer, as if trying to meld your bodies into one. The heat between you was palpable, a force that seemed to charge the very air.

You felt the rain's rhythm in your bones, a pulsing beat that matched the throb of desire. Your breath hitched as Jack's hands slid up your back, the fabric of his shirt a whisper of resistance against your skin. He kissed you again, his lips parting, and you felt yourself falling into him, a willing participant in this dance of love.

Jack's bedroom was a sanctuary of warmth, the rain outside a gentle serenade to the intimate moments you shared. His hands were sure, yet tender, as they traced the contours of your body, each touch a declaration of his affection. You felt the coolness of the rain-kissed air as he slid his shirt over his head, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest, a testament to his athletic prowess.

The room was alive with the sound of the rain and the symphony of your intertwined breaths. The scent of rain and desire filled the air, a potent blend that made your heart race. His eyes searched yours, asking for permission, for reassurance that this was what you both wanted.

You nodded, a silent confirmation that sent a rush of excitement through his veins. His hands, so adept at wielding a tennis racket, now moved with a different kind of finesse as they traced the lines of your body. Each touch was a promise, a whisper of things to come.

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: March 13

2019

a solid five minutes [david/patrick, G, 1,246] by @wild-aloof-rebel

At the party, Patrick's parents aren't as surprised by David as either David or Patrick had thought they might be.

blue... [david/patrick, G, 552] by @startswithhope

Just a little fluff about David's newfound love of the color blue.

Slate and Mahogany [david/patrick, G, 1,432] by @mostlyinthemorning

David has some suggestions for decorating Patrick's new apartment.

2020

Barroom Blitz [david/stevie, E, 1,651] by unkindravens

Stevie and David share an evening out, much of which is spent in the restroom...

Bells Will Ring, The Son Will Shine [david/patrick, NR, 1,078] by @meadowharvest4856

Johnny Rose starts a wedding fund for his son. This accompanies s6e10, "Sunrise, Sunset"

Mysterious Way About You [david/patrick, M, 3,327] by @leupagus

He pulls out his phone as he’s kicking off his shoes; there’s no message from David after the shut up 💖💖💖💖💖💖 sent a half-hour ago, in response to Patrick’s text goodnight and instruction not to pine for him too much.

will this ever get old? [david/patrick, T, 927] by startswithhope

Needed to write some fluff to take my mind off the dumpster fire around us right now. So, here’s some post-marriage future domestic bliss.

2021

Finland [johnny/moira, G, 300] by Rosey_Peach

Love and Cereal [david/patrick, T, 1,148] by davidrosestan

david has thoughts about love, they both like to mess with each other a little as usual, idk it's short just read it

Smorgascreek [david/patrick, T, 4,572] by @grapehyasynth

There's been a big misunderstanding. There's obviously been a big misunderstanding because people keep coming into David's very nice store and trying to get him to take them on as vendors.

Stay close to me [david/patrick, G, 147] by petrichor_apothecary

Interpret this as you will. Maybe the heater broke and they’re cuddled up on the couch with the fire going, cuddled up in their comfiest clothes just trying to make each other warmer. Or maybe they're in New York with Alexis and they’re watching the skaters go around the rink at Rockefeller Center. But no matter what, David just wants to keep his husband warm.

The Thumb [david & ronnie, G, 251] by @steviestoospooky

David and Ronnie shoot the shit at the Wobbly Elm.

vows... [david/patrick, T, 2,419] by startswithhope

Patrick, I've never liked a smile as much as I like yours. I've never felt as safe as I do when I'm with you. I've never known love like I have when we're together. It's not been an easy road for me, but knowing that you will always be there for me at the end of it makes everything okay. Patrick Brewer, you are my happy ending.

we keep this love in a photograph (we made these memories for ourselves) [alexis/twyla, G, 419] by @wafflesfriendswork

Prompt: “I made you something.” Twyla doesn't love having her picture taken. Alexis helps.

Well, I did [david & alexis, M, 2,965] by Fafsernir

"You didn't have to worry about me.""Well, I did." David never says it, but he loves his younger sister. He goes out of his way for her to be happy, or to be safe, and he doesn't even know why he does it. But as long as she's having fun he can take it. He can sit at home and worry, he can run to the other side of the world and bring a passport, as long as that means she's okay. Or: Random moments when David helped his sister, with her not often aware of it, if ever. But he was never looking for congratulations when he did it.

2023

In another life [david/patrick, M, 17,321] by @smblmn

“So you’re telling me there are infinite universes and not in one of them a Patrick and a David are happy if they’re apart?” “That’s correct.” David squints at this version of Patrick that reminds him so much of his Patrick, the one he met five years ago, extremely sure of himself and so, so irresistible. “I don’t know math, and even I know that’s impossible. If there are infinite versions of ourselves, at least in one of them they have to be happy apart.” “Well I do know math and that’s what I’m telling you.”

Rain [david/patrick, T, 100] by @ramonaflow

100 words based on the Tumblr prompt: Rain

The Kiss [david/patrick, T, 76] by @wearpersistencewell

David gets a surprise kiss.

2024

Luck of the Irish [david/patrick, T, 858] by @a-noble-dragon

There’s a leprechaun stood outside Ray’s, handing out leaflets. ☘️ Or, Patrick meets David while he’s in costume, and David counts himself lucky. 🍀

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017, 2018, or 2022 2019: 3 fics/3,230 words 2020: 4 fics/6,983 words 2021: 8 fics/12,221 words 2023: 3 fics/17,497 words 2024: 1 fic/858 words Total: 19 fics/40,789 words

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Aaaaand we are DONE!!! Thank you all so, so, so, soooo much for the love, support & views on this fic! I had so much fun writing it & I hope you enjoyed reading it. I have plans for more longer fics in the future so stay tuned for those! As always, feel free to comment & tell me what you think. Also attached below is a fic playlist. I LOVE doing those & I may start doing them for all of my work lol. Take care! Love you! -Jazz

FIC PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1z6Gly1RueiZTdvCF8uKlJ?si=5b961666cb8e498c

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

*********

EPILOGUE.

There isn’t quite a sky like the one in autumn. 

It is a crisp, clear blue with not a single cloud in it, serving a gorgeous backdrop for the crimson red, orange, and golden trees lining the school courtyard and surrounding the quaint little red schoolhouse. 

It is officially fall which means crunchy leaves, apple-picking, Halloween, and Thanksgiving feasts for little Keiko and Sagoyo, brother and sister and twin siblings. Unfortunately, this also means school time which also means dealing with the stupid kids who always have something to say. 

Keiko growls in irritation, gripping her project in her hand. “I can’t believe those stupid kids didn’t believe us!” She angrily complains to her brother. “We worked so hard on that family tree project and did everythin’—I mean, EVERYTHIN’—we were supposed to do!” 

“Well, we might still get a good grade,” Sagoyo murmurs, staring at the poster of the hand drawn tree. Keiko painted the leaves for fall time while he and his mom drew in chalk stick figures of their family from top to bottom. They also included old photographs that they taped onto each branch. 

Keiko huffs, her cheeks pink with frustration. “It won’t matter ‘cause no one believed us, Goyo. They think we just made everythin’ up about our parents. Why would we—“ 

“Hey, loser twins!” One of their classmates shouts. They visibly cringe. Speak of the devil. They each turn around, albeit wearing the same exact expression on the same exact face. 

While they look exactly the same, it just so happens that Keiko has violet eyes and snow-white hair that she usually wears in pigtails for school while Sagoyo has blue eyes and short, black hair with a slight curl to it. They each have skin the color of toasted almonds and the same big smile, similar to one of their dads. 

But they also have the same narrowed expression as you when they are angry. Those narrowed eyes are now directed at a gang of their classmates who laughed at them during their presentation today. “What do y’all want?” Sagoyo clippingly asks, his voice soft just like his father’s. 

One of the kids mockingly gasps, pressing a hand to his patched jean jacket. “Oh, wow! Lil’ Goyo talks now?” 

The kids laugh, making Sagoyo blush. While he has a very laid-back, soft-spoken attitude which can be good in certain situations, Keiko does not. She is loud, hot-headed, and speak her mind for a little seven-year old. 

“Shut up, Seita!” she yells in her little voice. “Leave him alone!” The kids once again laugh, irritating her more. “As usual, savin’ her brother ‘cause he’s a lil’ baby,” Seita scoffs. 

“We just wanted to see your famous parents,” Miya, a girl with long, black hair and candy bracelets, smirkingly says. “They’re comin’ to get ya, right?” 

The twins look at each other, silently dilberating about whether or not to tell them the truth. Sagoyo averts his gaze to his school clogs. “We…We always walk home from school.” And they do. Their home is only a ten-minute walk right up the trail from the schoolhouse. 

“So we can’t meet ‘em?” Erik, another kid with a black bowl cut asks. ”Just admit it! You losers lied ‘cause your parents are lame!” 

Once again, the children laugh, making little Keiko grow red with anger. “We are not!” she shrieks. “Our parents really are outlaws! Nothin’ like your loser dad who left to go get milk and never came back!” 

At this, Seita looks like a deer caught in headlights while the other kids “oooo” at the harsh burn. Sagoyo grabs his sister’s elbow, squeezing it. ”Keiko, stop,” he pleads. 

Seita’s tiny face twists in anger, just as enraged as Keiko now. “Just shut up!” he hollers, his voice echoing across the courtyard. “Your mom isn’t the Fatale Femme and your dads aren’t Geto & Gojo!” 

Keiko drops her school bag and project to the ground, prepared to put her fist in this little boy’s face. “You stupid mother—“ 

“Whoa, little one,” a soft, deep voice says from behind her. “What’s goin’ on over here?” 

Each kid turns around and wordlessly gapes at the tall, long-haired man standing above them. Though the sunlight makes his features a bit shadowy, especially underneath his hat, his familiar piercings and face are unmistakable. 

Gojo the Gunslinger, though much older now and sporting some stubble, is just as cool as he was years ago to the little ones standing at his knees. “You guys okay?” he asks, concerned. “Y’all aren’t fightin’, right?” He raises one pierced brow at the kids who only stare, gobsmacked. They may as well be meeting God! 

“Papa!” Keiko shouts, tossing herself at the man. “You’re here, you’re here!” Geto wraps his arms around his daughter, squeezing her to his waist.

“Mommy asked me to come and get y’all today. Uh…are your friends okay?” 

He points one gloved finger at the staring, silent kids. Each one looks like they’re frozen. “They’re just excited to meet you,” Keiko laughs, smirking at the kids. Especially Seita’s bitch ass. 

Geto laughs and gives her and Sagoyo head ruffles. “Well, say goodbye until Monday. You two have got some business with some ice cream today.” He gives them each a wink. “Yay!” the twins shout before picking up their things and racing out of the courtyard with Geto striding in his boots. 

After a detour to the ice cream parlor for some rocky road, chocolate-vanilla swirl, and mint chocolate chip cones, the three head home that afternoon. The sunshine’s on the apple trees lining the road uphill where a buttercream white, quaint, cozy house sits with a red barn not too far from it. 

The house looks like it came straight out of a storybook with its white shutters, red brick rooftop and chimney, fruit orchards in the backyard, and animals grazing the day away. 

Geto walks in the middle while his babies walk on either side of him up the road, still talking about their sweet treats and what the best ice cream flavor is. Like clockwork, the horses come trodding up to greet them at the fence blocking them from the road. Keiko goes barreling over, petting the old beasts. “Hi, Reneigh!”she giggles, petting her snout. The horse chuffs in response, her coat much lighter now that she’s older. 

Geto greets the horses with gentle pats on the back as his twins race to the front door. “No fair, Keiko!” Sagoyo yells. “You got a head start!” Keiko ignores him, running until she gets to the front porch. She goes barreling inside like a hurricane, giving the unlocked door a satisfying slam. “Mama, Papa, we’re home!” she bellows. Geto and Sagoyo come in right after. 

“Hang on a sec!” you shout back from upstairs. The three wait at the steps as you slowly and carefully come down, one hand on your lower back. You don’t know why, but it eases the pressure on your back that your plump, very pregnant belly has on it. 

You smile at your twins and your husband, moving as fast as your swollen feet will allow in your slippers. “Hey, flowers,” you coo at your twins. “How was school today?” 

Keiko doesn’t respond, too busy ogling at you. “Mommy, your robe!” Sagoyo shouts, blushing as red as a tomato. Geto coughs into his arm, struggling not to laugh. 

You look down and there, you see that your plump, round belly, lace bra, and panties are on display. You gasp as Geto strides up to meet you on the steps. He blocks the kids from seeing you as he ties your robe for you. “Oops! I’m sorry, flowers. Mommy just woke up from a nap with Papa.” 

Geto’s gaze meet yours, his violet eyes hooded and lustful. “I bet you did,” he whispers, keeping his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re spendin’ time together without me?” 

His fingers peel the flaps to your robe open, caressing your asscheek. You swallow roughly, ignoring the pulse between your thighs at his touch, tone, and familiar look. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you breathlessly reply. 

Geto’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “Uh-huh,” he chuckles. “You can make it up to me later tonight. Careful now, babydoll.” Ice cream is on his breath. You wonder briefly if it’s on his tongue and lips too. He takes your hand and guides you downstairs as if the last few seconds never happened. 

But that is the life of being the Gunslingers’ wife. One minute, you’re asking them to pass the broccoli at the dinner table and then the next, you’re bent over in bed taking one big cock while the other is in your throat once the kids are off to bed. 

“Mama, your hair is all messy!” Keiko giggles once you’re downstairs. You elbow Geto when he stifles a laugh. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to borrow yours,” you cackle, tugging on your daughter’s silvery locks. 

You turn to Sagoyo, hugging him in greeting. “Oh, Uncle Nanami stopped by! He bought you guys some gifts.” You give them a secretive smile as you walk over to the armchair facing the fireplace, purposely to hide the gift. 

“Really?!” the twins squeal excitedly. They follow you while you take out two matching blue gift bags. There, you take out two horse pendants for them.“He got ‘em on his trip to that medicine conference,” you explain. “Uncle Haibara made him get ‘em for y’all, so give them a call tonight and thank both.” You hand the pendants to your ogling twins, watching as they admire them. “Oooh, pretty!” Keiko coos, admiring the pretty pendant. 

“Granny also sent over some apple cider dounuts even though I specifically told her not to,” you sigh. “She’s gonna turn you two into pumpkins.” Geto laughs, knowing that you’ve told your parents to ease up on the home baked goods since unfortunately, your kids have inherited Gojo’s sweet tooth. Speaking of the devil, his smooth laugh comes from upstairs. 

Still smooth, still sly, and still sexy. His hair is cropped shorter and his voice has grown deeper, only adding to the sexiness and maturity he has been rocking since you all hit your thirties. “Leave ‘em alone, babe,” he tuts, walking down the steps in his jeans and sweater. “Ya know they got their sweet tooth from me.” 

“Clearly,” you mutter. You squeak when Gojo smacks you on the ass, just out of sight from the twins. 

“Daddy!” Keiko shouts, running over to her dad. Gojo bends down onto his long legs and hikes her up in one arm. He does the same to Sagoyo, hugging both to his sides. “Hello, my darlins’,” he coos. “How was school?” 

The twins each give each other a look. Sagoyo nervously looks at you then at an expectant Geto. “Uh—“ 

“Good!” Keiko immediately answers, grinning a little too brightly. All three of you share a knowing look. “Oooh, that ain’t sound like y’all agree,” you point out, exhaling as you sit down on the soft cushioned couch. Your aching knees and feet immediately feel 100% better. 

Geto goes to stand over with you, never wanting to be too far from you. Gojo is the same way. They hound over you like dogs, always protecting you from unseeable threats and pampering you. They did this when you got married, but when you got pregnant with the twins seven years ago, it only increased. 

“So are you two finally gonna tell us what happened earlier?” Geto pointedly asks, crossing his tattooed arms. 

Gojo looks at him and then at the twins. “What?” he cluelessly asks. “What happened earlier?” 

“Uh….” The two kids look at each other, unsure. Finally, under Geto’s scrutinizing gaze, they break. “These kids just made fun of us for our project today,” Sagoyo admits. 

“They didn’t believe us!” Keiko tearfully shouts, big fat ears welling up in their eyes. “They said we lied about you guys bein’ famous!” She begins to silently cry. You smile to yourself. Keiko has the anger of her mama, but the sensitivity of her daddy. Meanwhile, Sagoyo is more like his daddy and papa: easygoing and quiet, but very intelligent. 

Keiko’s daddy hugs her close, cooing at her soft crying. “Aww, babygirl, it’s okay,” Gojo shushes your daughter, kissing her forehead. “We appreciate the thought, but if they don’t wanna believe it then fu—“ 

“Satoru!” you and Geto immediately snap. You won’t have him teaching the kids how to cuss again! 

“Forget them,” he finishes, winking at you and his husband. “That’s all I was gonna say! Geez, nine years later and you still think I’m a bad influence on kids.” The twins laugh, their smiles brightening the room. Suddenly, Keiko’s sorrow is gone. 

“Well, I still think your project is adorable,” you giggle, admiring it as Geto moves it to the mantel. “And I’m sure those kids won’t bother you again now that they saw your papa in the flesh.” 

You clap your hands once, signaling the end of discussion. “Now, let’s forget all about today with some delicious donuts and sweet tea, shall we?” 

“Yeah!” the twins shout, and all talks of mean kids and schoolyard fights are gone. “Keiko, don’t take all of ‘em!” Sagoyo calls as he chases after her into the kitchen. You laugh with your husbands, always humored by your precious Earth angels. 

An hour later, after eating donuts, chugging down sweet tea, and cleaning up after school, the twins go outside into the fields to run about and play with the horses. You stand by the open front door, looking out into the grassy fields. “Not too far, y’all!” you shout. 

You put one foot out to walk onto the porch, but Gojo stops you short. He takes your hand in his and guides you to the swing chair that he and Geto specifically bought from you three to share. Together eight years later, you still share that swing on lazy afternoons and drunken nights. 

“Satoru, baby, ya don’t have to walk with me,” you chuckle. “I can still walk.” But your husband has a mind of his own. “Nuh-uh,” he stubbornly replies. “I’d carry ya if you’d let me.” 

He sits you down next to Geto sipping on some tea. “But I can always put you in my lap.” He gives you a sultry smile as he sits next to you, trapping you between them. “Or mine,” Geto cuts in. “You know Y/N enjoys sittin’ on me more.” He places his tatted hand on your thigh, his fingers caressing your skin. 

“None of that right now, fellas,” you purr while Gojo kisses your neck. He pouts, but stops, one hand still playing with your hair. You smile, placing your hands on theirs, right over their rose tattoos. “But later tonight, I’ll hold y’all to it.” Your husbands look happy with that idea. 

As they go back to watching the twins play, you admire the dark ink of their rose tattoos. After all of this time, Benji the Bandit and Valentine seem so far away. After their deaths, there had been a slew of criminals and bandits running a mock in the Wild West that you and your Gunslingers took care of. It only lasted for a year, but your killing spree was enough to scare the wits out of any aspiring bandit. 

After some time of traveling and living the outlaw life, you three finally retired to Willow Springs to marry and start your family. And here you are now, sitting with everything you’ve ever wanted, fully embracing your past and looking forward to your future with your husbands. 

You admire them both, loving how the rays of the afternoon sun turn their hair into spun gold. It is getting dark earlier now and soon, winter will replace fall as it always has and always will. Time continues to pass and you still see your husbands as the sexy, smooth-talking, gun-wielding outlaws you met all of those years ago. And you know they still see you as the hot-headed, stubborn, fierce Fatale Femme (though you’ve softened overtime).  

Gojo sees you watching him and raises an eyebrow. “What?” he curiously asks. 

You shake your head, squeezing your husband’s hands in fear that they may disappear. That this peaceful, cozy life in Willow Springs with them is just an illusion. “Nothin’,” you giggle. “I’m just so glad you chose me.” 

Geto scoffs, releasing your hand to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “More like we’re glad you chose us, little lady,” he replies. “You could’ve had anyone, but you went with us two outlaws.” He presses a soft kiss to your cheek and Gojo follows suit, the both of them pressing their lips to your face. 

When they pull away, they place each hand on your plump stomach. “This is the life, ain’t it?” Gojo hums. He leans his head against yours, watching your twins play and the blue sky stretch like a painted canvas above. 

Sitting between them, you feel more at peace than you ever had. “Yeah,” you agree, sighing softly. “It’s a dream come true.” 

THE END.

[joelovebl-blog]

The Metamorphosis of Brother Jie PART2：　

Zhang Kaoquan — thirty years old, with a flawless physique and perfectly defined muscles, a strikingly handsome face with sharp, well-sculpted features, and fair, clean skin. He always spoke with a roguish charm.

He was the hottest rising star in the film industry, having played roles in action films, romance dramas, and even art-house LGBTQ films — effortlessly adapting to every genre. In one interview, he laughed and said:

"With a face like mine, even if I played a middle-aged man, people would still want to fall in love with me, right?"

The reporter laughed. Fans screamed. The internet exploded with screenshots and fangirl memes. But no one could have guessed that this line would become the turning point of his fate.

That night, he attended the launch event of a sportswear brand. Wearing a tight black T-shirt and athletic pants, he stood on stage showcasing his sweat-slicked, chiseled body. The photographers were practically overheating from snapping away.

Afterward, he entered the dressing room to change and leave when he noticed a strange bag left near the sink.

Inside it was an old, crumpled, dull-colored pair of briefs — clearly too large for him.

“Ugh... what the hell is this?”

He frowned and was about to throw it out, but noticed a small sticky note attached:

[Whoever wears this will know what real charm means.]

Zhang Kaoquan chuckled coldly.

“What kind of outdated marketing gimmick is this?”

He pulled out the briefs and examined the thick, fuzzy material with amused disdain.

“Maybe I’ll go viral if I post this on my stories.”

And so, in the restroom, he actually put them on.

The moment he slipped them on, a strange heat surged from his groin, spreading slowly across his waist, abdomen, back, and chest.

“...Huh? What’s...?”

He looked down and was startled to see his abs subtly swelling — from six distinct packs to a thicker, rounder layer of muscle and fat.

“Wait... is this some kind of prank prop?”

Before he could react, his pectorals also started to puff up. His skin gained a bronze sheen... and hair began to sprout.

“No—no, something’s wrong—”

He tried to take off the underwear, but the fabric clung tightly to his skin, tightening as he pulled. Sweat began to pour from him — not the refreshing kind from a workout, but a muggy, mature scent that clung heavily to him.

Panting, he looked down to find his legs growing thicker, the hair on them multiplying. His arms — once praised for their perfect muscle tone — were becoming bulkier and furred. Veins and stubble-like marks began to appear on his hands.

“This... this can’t be real... is this some hidden camera prank?”

Then, his voice changed.

The clear, magnetic tone shifted to something lower, raspier, with nasal grit and deep resonance from the belly—

It was “Jie-Ge’s” voice.

He fell to his knees in the dressing room, drenched in cold sweat. His hair damp, his chest puffed out, beard stubble emerging, his eyes filled with a world-weariness. In the mirror, he saw a man both foreign and strangely familiar — rugged, tanned, hairy, with a soft belly.

He no longer looked like himself.

“I... I’m Zhang Kaoquan…”

But the voice that left his lips no longer sounded like his.

I’m not you, but I’ve become just like you.

The dressing room was empty, save for him, kneeling in front of the mirror, panting. His body was already drastically transformed—

The man in the mirror had dark, tanned skin, a burly chest, a soft and bouncy belly, thickly haired arms marked by age, deep eyes, bushy eyebrows, and the kind of smirk that was hard to read.

It wasn’t Zhang Kaoquan’s smile.

He panted and muttered:

“I... I’m not like this... I’m...”

His voice caught.

What should’ve been his confident, magnetic tone was now rough and husky — like an older man murmuring under dim lights.

He touched his Adam’s apple — now more prominent and firm. He opened his mouth again:

“My name is... Zhang Kao…”

Then a voice echoed in his mind, low and warm, but not his own.

"I’m Jie-Ge, kid... not bad, got a nice round butt on ya."

“...Shut up.” He clenched his fists.

He stood shakily, walked to the mirror, braced his hands on the sink, and stared at the utterly unfamiliar reflection.

“This isn’t me... I’m not some... old, hairy...”

Then, the man in the mirror suddenly smirked with amusement.

He smirked too.

“Oh? This look... actually kinda has a vibe.”

He grabbed his own cheek in shock.

“No—no... why did I say that... who am I becoming...”

He staggered back, heart pounding, as strange memories bubbled up— not of film sets or press interviews, but:

— In a gym, with a towel around his neck, watching a boy do squats. — Late at night, soaking his feet while watching a young livestreamer flex his muscles online. — Hanging a ragged pair of underwear to dry, fondly thinking, “Damn, this old pair’s been through a lot with me.”

“That’s not me... I never did any of that...”

“Exactly,” said the voice in his mind, “But you’re gonna start enjoying it.”

“...Who are you?”

“I’m you. Or rather — you’re becoming me.”

The voice was deep and lazy, like an uncle chatting in a hot bath.

He shook his head, panicked. “I’m not becoming some damn middle-aged uncle…”

But his actions, his tone, even his breathing — all began to feel “unyoung.” Worse, his emotions weren't explosive anymore, but sluggish, internalized.

That... was Jie-Ge’s aura.

—

Just then, the dressing room door opened.

Two men walked in — both looking exactly like him now.

One had a shorter beard, the other a rounder belly. Both wore dark tank tops and slippers, moving slowly yet with unshakable presence.

One looked him over and grinned.

“Hey, newbie?”

Startled, he asked, “Who... who are you?”

One of them sat down, relaxed:

“You look like us now. So we are who you are.”

“You too...?”

“Every chosen one was someone who thought they were hot,” one said with a smirk. “That’s why we all ended up looking like our total opposite. Only to realize — this is who we truly are.”

He stepped back, only to realize he was unconsciously mimicking their stance — legs apart, belly slightly forward, shoulders loose.

“Why did you turn me into this?”

“We didn’t make you wear the briefs, handsome. That was your curiosity.”

“You—”

His voice cracked again.

That casual, raspy, low-key tone — it was Jie-Ge’s way of speaking.

One patted his shoulder, leaned in, and whispered:

“Don’t worry, we’ve all been there... one moment calling ourselves ‘Kaoquan,’ the next smiling and saying ‘Hey, I’m Jie-Ge.’”

“I won’t become like you—”

“You already have.” He chuckled.

“You’ll realize — the day you pat your belly and say ‘not bad’ with pride... is the day you’re finally free.”

—

That night, he sat alone on his hotel bed, in silence.

He looked at his hands, touched his now-soft belly, then his furry chest.

Then... he smirked.

“Hmph... got some real manliness now.”

He froze.

“...Did I just... compliment myself?”

He paused for a long while, then chuckled — a deep, mischievous laugh.

His expression shifted, reshaped, and layered into something new.

He began to wonder:

Maybe I’ve always been him... just hadn’t awakened yet.

Live like someone long enough, and you become them.

Zhang Kaoquan walked down the hallway to the studio. His heavy figure cast a thick shadow on the floor — broad shoulders, muscular back, a protruding belly, and legs far from “celebrity toned.”

He tugged on the T-shirt meant for a fitness shoot — now caught between his beefy chest and gut.

He didn’t think much of it. He just patted his stomach and muttered:

“This shirt’s way too small...”

Then froze.

That tone — that complaint — wasn’t that the exact kind of middle-aged uncle gripe he used to scoff at?

Standing outside the studio, an assistant glanced at him, then asked:

“Excuse me, sir... are you someone visiting this shoot?”

He blinked. “...What do you mean?”

The assistant smiled awkwardly, “We’re waiting for Zhang Kaoquan — he said he’d bring his own outfit today?”

He paused for five seconds, then let out a low chuckle.

The assistant hesitated, then smiled, “Would you like to come in and rest? We can get you a coffee?”

“Hot. Less sugar.”

He replied instinctively — and was startled by how naturally it came out.

Inside, people glanced at him curiously. He heard whispers:

“Is that someone’s dad? Looks like he’s serious about fitness though.”

He sipped his coffee and listened.

Surprisingly... he felt comfortable.

Not anxious. Not ashamed. But like he’d finally settled into his rightful place.

He looked down at his hands —

Knuckled, hairy, calloused — not a star’s hands, but the hands of a man who'd lived.

“...I really do look like Jie-Ge now.”

He whispered, then smirked — a little rough, a little smug.

When the shoot began, the photographer turned the lights on him and said, “Whoa — this dude’s more photogenic than our original actor.”

He didn’t correct them.

He just followed the directions: chest out, belly pressing against his waistband, eyes glancing downward, lips curling upward.

That wasn’t “Zhang Kaoquan’s pose.”

It was Jie-Ge’s — confident, masculine, with just a hint of teasing.

“Perfect! Looks like... a mature beast!”

He didn’t respond. Just smiled — not the smile of a celebrity, but the kind of guy who’d ask to borrow your lighter at the barber shop.

After the shoot, he passed a mirror and paused.

“...It’s me.”

But he wasn’t sure who said it anymore.

Back in the hotel bathroom, naked before the mirror, steam clung to his thick chest and soft belly. Wet body hair stuck to his skin. His stubble had grown deeper, like it had always been there.

He looked at the man in the mirror.

“You’re not me.”

“No, I am you.”

He ran his hand over his belly, muttering:

“I know this isn’t acting anymore... I’m starting to actually... like this.”

Memories resurfaced:

Humming old songs in hot springs; That teasing look while watching young boys at the gym; Slapping his own belly fondly while hanging underwear to dry.

“This isn’t me...”

He whispered.

But then, he sat on the bed, arms crossed over his chest, and sighed in that low, relaxed uncle tone:

“But it’s not bad... kinda manly.”

He froze.

That was... his voice, his thought, his words.

He touched his face again, fingers tracing stubble and nose.

“Am I... still Zhang Kaoquan?”

“Or am I already the third Jie-Ge?”

He lived like Jie-Ge.

To the world, he was Jie-Ge.

And more and more, he liked it.

He just wasn’t sure anymore...

Was this a role?

Or... had he always been this way — just waiting to awaken?

You’re already one of us

“I need... to figure this out.”

It was late at night. Zhang Kaoquan sat in his room while the TV played one of his old movies. On screen, his younger self was handsome, upright, and radiating confidence with every movement. But now, he sat on the couch—thick-bodied, hairy, hugging his belly—completely different from the man on screen.

He muttered under his breath:

“...I don’t look like that anymore.”

He patted his belly gently. The firm warmth beneath his palm sent a slight shiver through him.

“I can’t keep going like this... I need to find them... ask them why.”

—

The next day, he wore a loose tank top, khaki shorts, and slippers. He went to the gym—the place where he first “met them.”

As soon as he entered, the front desk greeted him warmly: “Morning, Jie-Ge! What are we training today?”

He frowned slightly and nodded without a word.

“Jie-Ge” was no longer just a nickname. It had become a label he couldn’t shake off.

He passed rows of machines and headed to the stretching area in the corner.

There, two men—both looking almost identical to his current self—were sitting.

One wore reading glasses, tapping his foot while scrolling his phone. The other was shirtless, with a towel over his belly, listening to a radio.

Zhang Kaoquan stood before them, his voice heavy:

“...We need to talk.”

One looked up and smiled. “Finally came to find us, huh?”

“I want to know... why I became like this.”

“You didn’t become—you already are.” The other grinned.

“I still remember who I am. I’m Zhang Kaoquan.”

“So what if you remember?” said the shirtless one, sitting up lazily. “Your body, your voice, even the way you talk now—does any of it still look like ‘Zhang Kaoquan’?”

Zhang Kaoquan frowned. “I... I’m still conscious... I haven’t been brainwashed...”

“No one brainwashed you. You fermented on your own, get it?”

The one with glasses chuckled and pointed to his belly: “You know what this is?”

Zhang looked down at his own belly—round, solid, identical to theirs.

“This isn’t fat. It’s identity.”

They both stood up and slowly stepped toward him, almost nose to nose. Three middle-aged men, identical in appearance, scent, and skin texture, stood before the mirror—three versions of the same person.

“Don’t your hands naturally find their way to your belly now?”

“Don’t you like waking up in the morning with unshaven stubble and a stronger musk?”

“Don’t your sentences now end with a drawn-out tone, like: ‘Reeeally~’?”

With every question, his face flushed a bit more.

But not from shame—more from being exposed.

“You’re already living like us,” one whispered. “Live like someone long enough, and you’ll become them.”

Zhang Kaoquan gritted his teeth and stepped back. “No... I still—”

“You’re still resisting because you’re viewing yourself through Zhang Kaoquan’s eyes.” The shirtless man smiled and pushed him toward the mirror. “Now look carefully at yourself.”

In the mirror: thick stubble, tanned skin, lines of age on his face, eyes deep and mischievous, a broad chest, a round belly, thick body hair, and calm breathing.

Then, without thinking, he blurted out:

“...Actually kinda hot.”

The moment he heard himself, his eyes widened.

“Did... I just say that?”

The man in the mirror smirked—Jie-Ge’s signature smirk—on his own face.

One of them leaned in and whispered:

“Accept it. You’re the third Jie-Ge now.”

“From today on, you’re no longer Zhang Kaoquan—”

“You’re ‘Jie-Ge.’ Our proudest work.”

—

That night, Zhang Kaoquan returned to his room and stared into the mirror, silent for a long time.

He could no longer look at his old posters. They didn’t feel like him anymore. He no longer did nightly skincare routines. He soaked his feet, drank black coffee, and listened to the radio. He typed slower. He cleared his throat before speaking. He was even thinking about cutting his hair shorter.

He sat down, hands resting on his belly—like a quiet acceptance ritual.

“...Jie-Ge, huh... rolls off the tongue.”

He said softly, then laughed.

Not bitterly. Not self-mockingly.

It was the kind of laugh you give when you finally figure out who you really are.

—

His identity might still be resisting, but his life now completely belonged to—

Jie-Ge’s world.

—

6:00 a.m. The sun barely rising.

Zhang Kaoquan—or rather, the man he’d become—sat shirtless on a folding chair on the balcony, soaking his feet in hot water, sipping black coffee. His belly rested peacefully on his thighs.

One hand propped up his cheek as he gazed into the distance. His eyes were calm, his chest and belly hair damp and clinging to his skin. He wasn’t waiting for anyone—just savoring this moment where nothing needed to be proven.

His phone buzzed on the table.

A message from his manager.

[Kaoquan, I know you’ve been off lately. We’re negotiating with the brand for now. Just rest and don’t worry.]

He stared at the message for a long time, then quietly pressed “Block” and “Delete Contact.”

“He’s not looking for me anymore.”

He set the phone down, picked up his freshly dried old briefs, gave them a shake, pulled them on high around his waist—like completing a ritual.

He stood in front of the mirror, slicked back his hair—shorter now, revealing a broader forehead and thickened hairline. He pointed finger-guns at the mirror.

“Hey, morning—Jie-Ge here.”

He laughed.

—

He stepped out of the apartment building. Passersby turned their heads—not because of some celebrity aura, but because—

His presence now was unmistakable.

Tanned skin. Broad shoulders. A prominent chest and belly. Thick body hair peeking from his tank top. He moved slowly, confidently. When he answered calls, he used his chin to hold the phone, left hand on his waist.

“Ahhh~ alright, alright. I’ll tell you later. For now, let’s get some braised pork rice—whatever.”

His tone was relaxed, grounded—yet carried the unspoken authority of a middle-aged man.

—

That afternoon, he returned to the gym. The front desk immediately called out:

“Jie-Ge’s here!”

He nodded, smiling with ease.

Someone recognized him:

“Hey Jie-Ge, didn’t you use to act? You look familiar…”

He raised his head and grinned. “Aiyo, you’ve got the wrong guy. No star life here~ just a bigger belly that gets me mistaken.”

Everyone laughed. He laughed too.

But only he knew—

He had just buried the name “Zhang Kaoquan” with his own hands.

From now on, he was “Jie-Ge.”

He entered the locker room, saw the same note still taped to the mirror:

[Whoever wears this will know what real charm means.]

He didn’t frown this time. Instead, he gently touched the note and murmured:

“Now I know... this is the real me.”

He packed up his gym bag—deodorant, razor, instant coffee, and a fresh pair of briefs.

That was “Jie-Ge’s” lifestyle kit.

—

That night, he sat on a park bench with the other two Jie-Ges. All three drank beer, their bellies pressing against damp T-shirts as they chatted and laughed.

“Remember when he first changed? Had that ‘I’m still Zhang Kaoquan’ face~”

“Now he suns his belly and even pats it twice!”

He didn’t argue. Just lit a cigarette, blew out a smoke ring, and chuckled:

“Yeah, back then I kept pretending I still had a six-pack… Now with a little extra meat, people say I’m more approachable.”

“Hell yeah. That old celeb face of yours looks even more grounded now.”

He laughed loudly: “Yeah, I look so good now I wanna kiss myself.”

They all laughed. Under the moonlight, three burly middle-aged men sat side by side like solid stones.

—

Zhang Kaoquan has vanished.

From this day on, he lives, speaks, moves, and smells as “Jie-Ge.”

No more acting. No more struggling. No more resistance.

Because now—

He is the most natural version of himself:

The third Jie-Ge.

What’s next?

He smiled slightly, glancing at a young man walking by.

His eyes lit up.

“So… should we go find the fourth?”

[seekforwarmth]

hello and welcome to the first fic rec of 2024 featuring my favourite works from what i’ve read during the past weeks. as always, please check tags before reading. if you liked the fics please reblog their posts, leave kudos and write a nice comment. happy reading! rec tag | more rec lists

— harry/louis —  

໑ Red Wine/Long Nights by lucky28 (G, 1.3k, strangers to lovers, infidelity, fluff) When Louis goes to surprise his boyfriend with an unexpected dinner date, he's nothing but excited. That is, until he runs into his boyfriend's boyfriend along the way.

໑ Abundance by @rockstarlwt28 (M, 1.7k, established relationship, breastfeeding, failure of conception, fluff) The Tomlinson-Styles' family are blessed with their own Christmas miracle, Tallulah Jay. A lifetime of happiness follows her birth, her mother, Louis and father, Harry are instilled with hope and an abundance of love to double their already blossoming marriage.

໑ make my wish come true by localopa / @voulezloux (NR, 2.4k, friends to lovers, flat mates, christmas, angst with happy ending) the one where all harry wants for christmas is lou

໑ heaven in these sheets by @thepolourryexpress (E, 3.5k, established relationship, bunny hybrid louis, pwp, fluff) Bunny Hybrid Louis has it out for his boyfriend’s phone.

໑ powerless (and i don't care) by localopa / @voulezloux (E, 4k, established relationship, canon, fluff, slight angst) everyone on tour calls each other daddy, don’t ask why. and louis is so used to calling everyone “daddy” that, when he finally comes home, naturally he calls harry that.

໑ now you hang from my lips by teenytinytomlinson / @hs3lt2 (E, 6k, red herring, implied cheating, read tags and author’s note) Louis goes out and finds exactly what, or rather who, he’s looking for at the hotel bar.

໑ You're like a Sponge (Abrasive and Colorful) by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup (T, 6.5k, coworkers, university au, hate to love sort of) Louis's flirts look an awful lot like insults.

໑ Behind Smoke Stained Curtains by @jaerie (E, 19k, strangers to lovers, a/b/o au, truckers, secret identity, one night stands) The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

໑ i feel like this is the beginning, though I've loved you for a million years by puppyvirvinloui (spanish, NR, 22.8k, established relationship, marriage, sunshine/grumpy, trophy wife louis, pregnancy) Louis quiere un bebé, no está muy seguro de que Harry quiera lo mismo.

໑ sunshine (you temptress) by @petitommo (E, 26.8k, acquaintances, complicated relationships, age difference) Harry had everything he'd ever wanted in life. Well established, in love, and on the very precipice of the rest of his life, everything goes wrong. The road forwards is paved with difficult emotions, firm denial, and a complicated relationship to the strange teenager he'd snorted coke off of that one eventful night at the club.

໑ the mountain between us by happilylarry (NR, 31k, strangers to lovers, plane crash, surgeon harry, photographer louis, injuries, angst) Harry is a surgeon and stranded at Salt Lake City International Airport. He is to perform a surgery in fourteen hours in Boston. Louis is a journalist and stranded at Salt Lake City International Airport. He is to be married in ten hours. They decide to charter a private airplane to Denver, where they will get on their respective flights and part ways.

Or so they thought.

໑ You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup (T, 32.7k, co-workers, advent fic, library au, christmas, fluff, humour) Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is.

Oh, and the guy who works in conservation at the other end of the building is the most beautiful man Harry's ever seen, even when wielding a hot iron as a weapon.

Happy Christmas, here's to many more.

໑ I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours (T, 34k, strangers to lovers, advent fic, coffee shop au, barista louis, baker harry, food, american au) Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype.

It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words…and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.

— rare pairs —

໑ for the rest of my life (for the rest of yours) by localopa / @voulezloux (louis/zayn, M, 1.5k, exes with benefits, canon au, song fic) zayn and louis are exes. they still sleep together.

[marina41trench]

Tamaki & Ryuu - Shuffle Talk 2024 [1/3] - The King's Favorite

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

*Click*

Tamaki: Ah, Ryuu-aniki, good morning!

I thought I’m the first to arrive!

Ryuu: Good morning, Tamaki-kun!

I was looking forward to it so I came as fast as I could.

Tamaki: Me too! When I arrive first, I’ll hide somewhere and when you come, I’ll surprise you. I’ll do that next time.

Ryuu: I-I’m sure that day will come, I guess?!

It’s exciting…!

Ryuu: Anyway, let’s start the today’s discussion of “Monthly World Travel”!

Tamaki: Sure! I memorized the proposal!

Tamaki: A special serialization commemorating their 50th anniversary!

This is a joint project with IDOLiSH7, TRIGGER, Re:vale, and ZOOL!

Tamaki: The members in the shuffled group are decided by lot, and the mission is to travel to countries around the world!

We’re in charge of Belgium!

Ryuu: That’s amazing! You really memorized it…!

Tamaki: Hehe.

I received an applause from Sou-chan too this morning.

Ryuu: Just as expected.

Don’t you look a bit more motivated now?

Tamaki: What do you think is the reason?

Ryuu: Eh! I wonder why……?

Tamaki: It’s because I’m with Ryuu-aniki!

Ryuu & Tamaki: Yay!

Ryuu: Likewise, I’m really happy that we’re together……!

Ryuu: Let’s do our best on our mission to tell everyone the goodness of Belgium!

Tamaki: Yeah, since we’re the first!

But, what does Belgium have?

Ryuu: Ah, the editor gave me the previous Belgium’s special serialization for reference.

Ryuu: It seems that the contents of the mission will be announced at the site on the appointed day. Since we don’t have much information as reference yet, we should check this.

Tamaki: What’s in it……?

Ah, it’s chocolate! It says chocolate is popular!

Ryuu: It is! And then, waffle……?

Tamaki: No way! Belgium is so good!

Ryuu: It really is! I’m looking forward to it……!

Ryuu: Also, it seems like it’s winter currently so we should warm ourselves!

Tamaki: Oh yeah, Yama-san said “Bring your haramaki[1] so your stomach won’t get cold”

Ryuu: Haramaki sounds good! Does he usually use it to fight against the cold?

Tamaki: Yeah! I see green on his stomach sometimes.

Ryuu: I see! That’s cute.

I have excess yarn so I should try knitting some.

Tamaki: Eh! Then make one for me too!

Ryuu: Really? I only have one color left so we’re going to match, so if you’re fine with it…

Tamaki: It’s alright! Or rather, I’d like a matching one!

I’ll brag it to everyone!

Ryuu: Ahaha! I’m not sure if it’s something to brag about, but if you say that then I’m happy.

I’ll prepare until the appointed day!

Tamaki: Yaay! I’ll really look forward to it!

Tamaki: We’re here! So this is Belgium…..!

Ryuu: The townscape looks lovely as well……!

It seems like you can get lost in a world of fairy tales.

Tamaki: It’s really exciting no matter how many times you go to a foreign country!

I’m more at ease if I’m with you!

Ryuu: I know.

We’re already pointing at things, so we should do the usual roll-call!

Tamaki: Here! I’m Yotsuba Tamaki!

This is the King Pudding pouch where I put everything important!

Ryuu: Here! I have checked mine!

I, Tsunashi Ryuunosuke, have also confirmed my baggage!

Ryuu: And then I’m wearing my haramaki!

Tamaki: Yay! I’m wearing the haramaki Ryuu-aniki knitted!

Ryuu: Ahaha! Now now, don’t roll up your clothes!

It’s perfect against the cold!

Accompanying Staff: Thanks for your work on your arrival to Belgium.

We’ll be in your care for this day!

Ryuu & Tamaki: We’ll be in your care!

Accompanying Staff: Please do not mind the cameras and enjoy travel as you please as we will accompany you for the photographs.

Accompanying Staff: The mission and hint is hidden in this envelope!

The map for the exploration area is enclosed as well, so please take a look!

Tamaki: Alright! What’s in the mission?!

Ryuu: I’ll take a look!

Umm…

Ryuu & Tamaki: “Let’s search for ‘The King’s Favorite’!”......?

Ryuu: With the word King in it, this probably refers to the King of Belgium.

Tamaki: ……Ryuu-aniki.

I think I know the answer.

Ryuu: Ehh, already?!

Tamaki: The answer is……!

Tamaki: King Pudding!

Ryuu: I see. Because they’re both kings……!

Tamaki: Even the king would acknowledge that it’s tasty, y’know!

Accompanying Staff: Unfortunately, it seems that they don't sell it here……!

Tamaki: Really?! I’ll do my best in my personal mission to propagate King Pudding.

Ryuu: I-It looks like we’re going to have an amazing trip……!

Ryuu: Ah, right, the hint……

What’s this, there’s a mark drawn on it……

Tamaki: That kinda looks like a lion.

Ryuu: I get it, this is Belgium’s coat of arms!

Tamaki: Coat of, arms……

I don’t really get it, but it sounds like the guy’s very important!

Does it have something to do with the king?

Ryuu: You’re right! Let’s find a place with this mark!

End of Episode 1.

-

TL Note:

[1] - Haramaki, or belly band, is a piece of clothing worn on the stomach, usually for warmth. Historically, it was an armor to protect from attacks.

[musclemommy17]

the rare Japanese Snowbell

Pairing: Shoto todoroki x genius reader

Syn: Todoroki with a genius lover? and how do they work together as a pair?

Warnings: mind games, slightly gore, talk of a crime scene, stressed reader and a icy hot watching her every move, Cussing, a cute lil fic with Shoto making reader feel better. Most fluff is at the end. I tried to make it a little different from the norms. <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------

October 17,

The smell of books fills the air as Y/N sits leaning on the desk. Your eyes squinting slightly reading over files. Not bothering to get out your hero suit, you read over the newest crime report. Crime Analytics have always been your favorite. Pictures flashing in your mind as you read looking in the papers. "Y/n love?" Turning around you see a certain half and half man. His mixed color eyes scanning you. "The report isn't due for a week." Todoroki says softly but sternly. Not wanting you too overdo it. "Sorry, but how come the murderer, uses measurements and a math standpoint. Most killers are more into meds and human body parts." You say cringing slightly. Todoroki leans against the wall. "Stop it. Come eat before it gets cold. Bakugo and Denki broke the sink after Denki snuck a snack while Bakugo was cooking." He says in his monotone voice. "Do I want to know?" Your say not bothering to look at him. The scene doesn't make sense. Almost like the body was placed there from a different place. The killer may even have multiple places to commit- "Y/N?" Todoroki interrupt's your thoughts. Seeing him now beside you. "Yea?" You look up at him. "Let's go eat love. You tend to over think without eating." He says half-jokingly. With out another word you guys go and sit down. Everyone jokes and smiles at each other. Class 1-A was a family. A big family. Even hurting each other like siblings. Or bullies. Looking over at Denki with a wrap on his head. And seeing a broken sink in the kitchen. Looking back to see Bakugo's hand wrapped too. Ouch. The girls laugh as mina puts lip-gloss on Denki who is passed out. Feeling as hand on your knee under the table you look to see Shoto looking worried at you. "Zoned out." You say going back to eating. "I was thinking about going to see my mother tomorrow." Shoto says making convo. "I have to go to the crime scene. I hope the lab didn't take everything into testing yet." I say thinking about my soon date with a murder scene.

October 18,

Cold air peaks though your jacket as you had to the house. Yellow tape covers the house. Aizawa talks to an officer as they allow me in. Part of the Crime Analytics class is you studying the scene. Most struggle with this. Wanting to fight. And yes, you can do that too. But chasing and profiling the suspect is your strong suit. Besides being socially awkward and not knowing general keys peoples use on day-to-day activities your flaw has its perks. The photographic memory never failing you on cases. The thrill of studying and picking a suspect's brain as if acting like them in the scenes caused you to get popular with officers. Now going on scenes themselves helping and training. The cold gloves now on your hands you pick up a soaked in blood cloth. Seems torn from something. Putting it in a bag you stand up. "Love?" Turning around Todoroki is inside. gloves on too. "Hey. I didn't want you breaking down." he says knowing about how I can break down overstimulated. "The thigh muscle was missing from her body." I say still thinking. "Okay well then they played doctor?" Todoroki says cringing at the pool of blood. He never liked these things. "No. The killer shows no sign of having medical background." "Well maybe he was trying to learn?" Todoroki says firing back looking at some picture frames. "No. He uses math in his crimes." "He?" Todoroki says turning to you. "It's a male." I say knowingly. Stepping over some blood I look closer at the blood. "He is no doctor. So, he won't be selling the parts. uses math. goes after a type of girl every time." I say mumbling connecting dots. Someone calls Todoroki out of the room leaving you alone. the background buzzes with voices as you focus closer. A knife. He skilled with it. Going after teenage girls. Athletic. All girls do sports. Missing muscles in their body. Showed signs of fighting. These thoughts flood in your head as you walk over to the window. Seeing it clean and looking normal. Way to normal. Everything is dusty showing she hasn't cleaned but the window. But no fingerprints on it. Unless the killer cleaned it off. He knows how to use a knife and math. He knows how to clean up a scene. He uses measurements of drugs to paralyze the girls. how does he know the right amount to use? Feeling someone grab your shoulder you turn quickly. "Um ma'am the scene is closing Aizawa is waiting in the front." The officer says softly.

8:24 pm.

Dropping off some notes to Bakugo you see a new book on his shelf. "Oi. what are you looking at nerd?" Bakugo says looking at him with that annoyed face. "You got a new book?" I say walking over to it. "You need learn how to shut that whole photo memory shit off." He says sitting down turning away from you. The hard cover is cold. Its new. Most liking bought online. "Seasoning for the seasons" A cheesy name on it. Yep, it's a cooking book alright. Your about to put it up when you see measurements on the back. measurements. Opening it shows body parts of beef and where its located. What knifes to use for meats and for different textures. And next. Measurements for cutting the meat. on the back it talks about farmers use for drugs on the animals to make death painless. Taking the book you run out. Bakugo screaming and exploding shit as you run out of the house. Getting in the keys to Todoroki's car you get in. Not bothering to even get out of your pjs you go to back up out of the drive away when a hand slams on the hood. "Y/n, what's wrong?!" Todoroki ask opening the door to the driver's seat trying to stop you. "We have to go. The police. The murder." You mumble shaking as Todoroki pulls you out. Hugging your body, he stops your tossing and turning. "Hey. breathe. Get in the passenger seat I will take you." he says calmly not bothering to ask me more questions. Knowing damn well you don't have your license yet.

9:12 pm.

Sitting in the police station talking to the police. Aizawa lecturing Todoroki for giving in. This isn't the first time I have dragged him along. "The killer eats the girls. We are closely related to pigs. Ribs are soft and tender. Most psychopath's have texture issues such as me, so we like hard meet. Tough pork chops." you breath as the officers look at you crazy. Todoroki standing close beside me protectively. Staring at you with amazement. "He paralyzes the girls like they do in pig slaughterhouses. But he works in a kitchen or even a production line for meats. He knows how to cook the girl's muscles to taste like pork. He uses knifes and is very good with them. But he doesn't have medical experience no he has slaughterhouse experience." You say shaking your body over stimulated. Clues and thoughts going 90 to nothing as everything clicks. The officers take action researching.

11:53 pm.

Todoroki hugs your back. Playing with your hair as you guys lay down. After two panic attacks and Todoroki telling everyone to fuck off as they tried to hug you when you got home, knowing you don't like psychical touch when stressed. Your breathing is calm. All your thoughts drift as Todoroki's tight hold calms you. "You're like a Japanese Snowbell." He says softly. "Those are rare Tho. They are in the family Styracaceous and are trees but considered flowers-" You ramble saying facts that don't make sense on why you would know. "I know." Todoroki had always had his own way of thinking. Never explaining why just always saying his mind. He was a leaving Bold titles while you were a living definition. "You can read 1234 words per minute but when it comes to poetry you stumble." He says kissing your shoulder. "It doesn't make sense to me. I don't like fiction or a challenge of who can write the best rhyming words." You can feel him smile. "Poetry is all you read." u say rolling your eyes. "Maybe because I'm not good explaining myself." He says turning your over slightly to look at him. "Why did you say I am like a Japanese Snowbell?" U ask softly. Shoto smile "until you can understand poetry you won't know." He says challenging you to master another skill. not saying anything your brain ranks though facts about them. maybe it's because you don't like the cold?

12:02 am.

Todoroki smiles hearing you sleeping. Thinking back to how he thought you were even weirder than him when he first saw you the first day of school. Early summer you bloomed. Happy with the nice weather you would sit outside reading multiple books at a fast pace while everyone joked and messed around. How you effortlessly solved hard math equations. He studied you more than the schoolbooks you studied. Noticing your dislike for poetry. Learning how to help with autism and changing little things around the dorm to fit your comfort. Never touching your organized messes of papers and books you have stacked up on your desk. Making a holding for everything you lose and putting a tracking device on your keys and air pods. Everything you lose so he can be your knight and shining armor. He thought you were a rare flower. But your smarts made you as strong as a tree. He thought you were beautiful and rare. Never seen twice. Just like a Japanese Snowbell.

[cranberrymoons]

baby, i'm all tied up

prompt: vines (discord drabble) word count: 500 rated: t tags: hellcheer, meet cute, rockstar eddie, makeup artist chrissy

He hadn’t really expected for it to turn out like this, all but immobilized against a pillar while the rest of the band stands around him perched on platforms of different heights which – he’s been told – will eventually look like jagged outcroppings of rock. 

Apparently post production can work miracles, because right now they just look like boxes, and Eddie can feel the fake vines (whatever they’re made out of, rubber?) chafing at his wrists, and –

Well. 

This is what you get for hiring an avant garde French photographer to do the artwork for your third studio album, which just had to be a concept album based on some stupid DND nonsense that he’s absolutely regretting now.

The photographer takes a break to fiddle with one of his lenses, and the makeup artist shuffles forward to touch up his face. He lets her angle his chin this way and that, and he studies her face as she works.

“Any idea how much longer?” he asks after a moment. “I kind of have to pee, and –”

He flexes against the vines to demonstrate, and she laughs.

“Just another hour or so, I think.”

“Oh great,” he says. “I only have to not pee for an hour. Awesome.” 

She smiles again but doesn’t say anything, and he shuts his eyes obediently as her brush tickles over his cheeks and up toward the bags that are probably showing through the concealer. 

So he was out a little late last night; it’s not like he had a photoshoot or anything this morning.

“I’m Eddie,” he says after a moment. He opens his eyes as she reaches into her bag to switch brushes. “By the way.”

She glances up, raising her eyebrows. Her smile is toothy and lovely, and he kind of wishes he wasn’t tied up like this, so he could – he doesn’t really know. Something. Show off somehow.

“I know,” she says. She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Not sure if you’ve heard, but you’re actually a very famous rockstar, and we’re all here because of you.”

“Not all because of me,” he says. She starts on his mouth, and he goes on without moving his lips. “There’s the rest of the ‘and.”

“True,” she says. “There’s always the rest of the and.”

He starts to grin at her, and she taps him on the nose with the end of her brush until he stops. 

“Band,” he says. “I meant band.”

“I know what you meant,” she says. “You’re just lucky I –”

But just then, they call for places, and the rest of the crew pulls back from where they’d been fiddling with the set dressing. She caps the little pot of lip color and places it back in its slot in her bag, and he feels his heart do a flip in his chest as she gives him a last once over and deems him finished. 

“Chrissy,” she says before he has to ask. “My name’s Chrissy. It’s nice to meet you, Eddie.”

[also on ao3]