#Autumn was in charge of EVERYTHING

[beachyserasims]

Geneva Island Legacy┃Chapter five┃Summer Charity (Part 1 of 3)

~ Transcript ~

Beginning / Previous / Next

[srslyblvck]

a dare too far, james potter [ Part II ]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: james was dared to make you fall in love with him. unknown to him, he was falling for you too. But soon the truth comes out, and you are left heartbroken.

genre: angst

warnings: mentions of y/n, heartbreak

word count: 5.5k [ a/n: what can i say, i lost track lmao ]

part I

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE DAYS FOLLOWING YOUR discovery had been a blur of pain and confusion. You had avoided James like the plague, refusing to even look in his direction. Your heart still ached, but your pride and self-respect kept you from falling apart in front of everyone.

It wasn’t long before your friends—Archie, Leonard, Autumn, and Florence—noticed something was wrong. They knew you too well, and your sudden distance from James didn’t go unnoticed. You hadn’t said a word about what had happened, but one afternoon, while you sat with them at lunch, Florence finally broke the silence.

“Y/N,” she began softly, “what happened with James?”

Your fork stilled in your hand, and for a moment, you debated lying. But the weight of it all was too much to bear alone, and with a deep breath, you told them everything. From the dare to your overheard conversation in the library, every heartbreaking detail spilt out. By the time you finished, your friends were fuming.

“He did what?” Archie’s voice was low, dangerous. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

Leonard, usually calm and rational, had gone stiff, his face a mask of barely controlled anger. “He was using you… for a stupid dare? Merlin’s beard…”

Autumn reached across the table to grasp your hand, her face a mix of empathy and fury. “That—that is despicable.”

Florence was quieter, but her steely expression said it all. She had always been protective of you, and seeing you hurt had ignited something fierce within her.

Archie was the first to stand, pushing his chair back with a sharp scrape. “Where are they?” he asked, his voice like ice. “Where’s Potter and his pack of idiots?”

You shook your head, reaching out to stop him. “Archie, please—don’t do anything. It’s not worth it.”

But Archie’s mind was made up. “Not worth it? He messed with your heart, Y/N. He hurt you. That’s more than worth it.”

Leonard and Autumn exchanged a glance, and Leonard stood as well, his usually calm face clouded with anger. “He’s not getting away with this.”

“I don’t want you to fight—” you tried again, but Archie had already turned to leave, his face set in grim determination.

“You don’t have to come,” he said, his voice softer now, though still filled with anger. “But I’m not letting this slide.”

Before you could say another word, Archie and the others were already storming out of the Great Hall, leaving you behind. A heavy sense of dread settled over you as you watched them go.

Archie didn’t need long to find them. James and his friends were walking through the hallway just outside the Great Hall, laughing about something Sirius had said, completely unaware of the storm heading their way.

Without warning, Archie charged forward, grabbing James by the front of his robes and slamming him into the stone wall with a loud thud. The sound echoed through the hallway, silencing the students nearby who had been watching.

James let out a grunt of surprise, but before he could say anything, Archie’s fist connected with his jaw in a solid punch. James staggered against the wall, his hand flying to his face as he winced in pain.

“You think you can just mess with her like that?” Archie growled, pinning James to the wall again, his face inches from his. “You think you can just play with her feelings and walk away without a scratch?”

James blinked, still reeling from the punch, but when he met Archie’s eyes, there was no deflection or defense in his gaze. There was only guilt. “Archie, wait—”

“No, you don’t get to explain!” Archie spat, shoving him harder against the wall. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to her? You broke her!”

Sirius stepped forward, his eyes flashing angrily. “Oi, get your hands off him—”

But Leonard blocked Sirius’s path, his expression dark and uncharacteristically cold. “Back off, Black. He had this coming.”

“Look, mate, we didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Sirius said, trying to reason with Leonard, though his voice lacked sincerity. “It was just a stupid joke.”

Autumn, standing beside Florence, scoffed. “A joke? You think it’s a joke to toy with someone’s feelings? You think it’s funny to break someone’s heart?”

Remus, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his voice soft but firm. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, Archie. James didn’t mean—”

But Archie wasn’t listening. “I don’t care what he meant! He knew what he was doing. You all did. You think you can just play with people’s lives because you’re the Marauders, huh? Because you’re so damn popular?”

James, his cheek red from the punch, swallowed hard. “Archie… I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Shut up,” Archie snapped, pushing James harder against the wall. “You knew what you were doing. You used her for a dare—you made her believe she could trust you. That she could actually care about you. And you did it for what? A joke? To get Evans jealous?”

James opened his mouth, but no words came out. Guilt twisted in his gut, more painful than any punch could have been. He had no defense. No excuse.

“I didn’t mean to—” James started, but Archie cut him off, his voice growing colder.

“You did mean to. You knew exactly what you were doing. You toyed with her feelings and now you’re going to pay for it.”

James felt the weight of Archie’s words settle over him like a lead blanket. He hadn’t wanted it to go this far. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you—but that didn’t change the fact that he had.

Before the situation could escalate any further, the sharp, familiar voice of Professor McGonagall sliced through the crowd.

“Mr. Hatcher! Mr. Potter!”

Professor McGonagall strode into the hallway, her eyes blazing with fury as she took in the scene before her. James was pinned against the wall, blood trickling from the corner of his lip, Archie’s fist still clenched tightly in his robes.

“Step away from him, Mr. Hatcher,” she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Archie hesitated for only a moment before letting go of James with a sharp shove, stepping back but not taking his eyes off him.

McGonagall’s stern gaze moved between the two boys. “Would someone care to explain what, exactly, is going on here?”

For a long moment, no one spoke. Archie’s jaw was still clenched, his fists balled at his sides, and James simply wiped the blood from his mouth, his eyes cast downward. He didn’t even try to defend himself.

Seeing that no one was going to speak, McGonagall sighed, her lips thinning into a tight line. “Very well,” she said, her voice icy. “Since neither of you seem inclined to explain, you will both serve detention. One week. Starting tomorrow.”

James nodded, knowing he deserved far worse. Archie, however, still seemed on edge, his glare burning into James even as he stepped back.

McGonagall’s expression softened, if only slightly. “Now, all of you—back to class. This nonsense is over.”

The gathered students began to disperse, and McGonagall gave one last stern look at both boys before turning and walking away, her robes billowing behind her.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Archie took a step closer to James, his voice low but dripping with contempt. “Stay away from her, Potter. If you ever come near her again, I’ll make sure that punch is the least of your worries.”

Without another word, Archie, Leonard, Autumn, and Florence walked away, leaving James standing in the hallway, bruised and guilty.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter stood in stunned silence, unsure of what to say. But James just stood there, his back still against the wall, staring after Archie as the weight of his actions pressed down on him.

He had ruined everything.

The following days were unbearable. Everywhere James went, he could feel the tension. Students whispered about him as he passed, and the disapproving stares of his classmates burned into his back. But none of that hurt more than seeing you.

You had become a ghost in his world. You still smiled softly at your friends, still went to class like normal, but you never once looked his way. It was as if he no longer existed to you. And James hated himself for it.

It took him a while, but eventually, he gathered the courage to try and make things right. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. He knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. But he had to try.

One afternoon, James found you in the library, sitting alone at one of the tables near the back. He approached slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. You were reading, your eyes scanning the page with an intensity that told him you were trying to ignore him even before he said anything.

“Y/N,” James said quietly, standing a few feet away from you.

You didn’t look up. “What do you want, James?”

He swallowed hard. “I just… I need to talk to you.”

You sighed, closing your book but still refusing to meet his eyes. “Haven’t you done enough already?”

James flinched at the coldness in your voice, but he forced himself to continue. “I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve messed up in a way that I’ll never be able to fix, but… I want to apologize.”

You remained silent, but your fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the book in your lap.

“I never meant for it to go this far,” he continued, his voice sincere. “It started as something stupid—something I regret more than you’ll ever know. I’ve thought about it every day since then. And I hate myself for it.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression filled with sadness and anger. “You didn’t think about how much it would hurt me, did you? You didn’t care that I might actually fall for you. That I might trust you.”

James shook his head. “I did care. I didn’t realize how much until it was too late. I’m sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to break your heart.”

James swallowed, the guilt weighing heavily on him. “I know. I’ll never be able to take back what I did, but… I want to make it right. Somehow.”

You shook your head slightly, your voice soft. “I don’t know if you can.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. James stood there, hoping for a sign, a flicker of something that would let him know he wasn’t too late. But you simply looked back down at your book, your walls firmly back in place.

James left the library that day feeling more hopeless than ever. But he wasn’t ready to give up. Over the next few days, he tried—small acts of kindness that he hoped would show you he was serious about making amends. He held doors open for you, left small notes of apology on your desk, and even helped you with your Potions homework from afar, making sure you had all the right ingredients laid out. He didn’t push. He didn’t ask for anything. He just wanted you to know he cared.

When you walked into class, your desk would be cleared of stray ink stains. A forgotten book would find its way back into your bag, or a note of apology would be slipped into your books. At first, you tried to ignore it all, but eventually, it became impossible to pretend you didn’t notice his efforts.

Despite everything, there was a part of you that still cared for James, a part of you that hated how much you missed the way things had been before the truth came out. It was that small part of you that made it harder to ignore him.

But you tried. You tried not to care. You tried to remind yourself of the hurt, the betrayal. You didn’t want to forgive him… but some days, you found yourself softening, despite everything.

James made sure to keep his distance, always careful to avoid Archie and the rest of your friends. If Archie found out that James was still trying to win back your trust, he’d make sure James regretted it. But James wasn’t doing this for anyone else anymore—not for Sirius, not for Lily. He was doing it for you, hoping that, one day, you might believe in him again.

It was a long process, and you weren’t ready to forgive him completely. But little by little, you began to see glimpses of the James Potter who wasn’t just a reckless boy trying to win a dare. He was something more than that—someone who was genuinely sorry for what he had done.

You still weren’t sure if you could ever fully trust him again. But maybe, just maybe, you could start to forgive him. One small step at a time.

It was a cool, crisp afternoon at Hogwarts, the autumn air biting softly at your skin as you climbed up the empty Quidditch stands. The Gryffindor team had finished their practice a while ago, leaving the pitch quiet, save for the rustling of leaves carried on the wind. You liked coming here after everyone had gone—there was a peace to the open sky and the vastness of the field that made everything else feel distant.

You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and settled into one of the seats, letting your eyes wander over the golden leaves scattered across the pitch. For a while, you just sat there, lost in thought, until the sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you out of your reverie.

“Mind if I sit?” James stood at the edge of the row, his broomstick in hand, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. His messy hair was windswept from practice, and there was a tentative smile on his face, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be near you.

Your heart gave a small jolt. You weren’t used to him being this hesitant around you. “Sure,” you replied softly, gesturing to the spot beside you.

He sat down carefully, leaving a bit of space between you, though the air around him still felt warm and familiar. For a few moments, the two of you sat in silence, both staring out at the empty field. The awkwardness between you was palpable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—it was more like the calm after a storm, when everything is still fragile, but quiet.

“You used to come to all our games,” James said after a while, his voice low, as though he was afraid of breaking the peace.

“I still do,” you replied, not looking at him. “I just... sit further back now.”

James winced, but nodded. “Yeah, I noticed. Haven’t seen you up close in a while.”

You glanced at him then, catching the way his eyes softened as he looked out at the field. The cocky confidence he’d worn like armor for so long was missing. In its place was something quieter, more genuine.

“I don’t blame you for keeping your distance,” he continued. “I deserve it.”

You hugged your knees closer to your chest, not responding at first. There was still an ache in your heart whenever you thought about what had happened, but the anger was flickering.

“Why do you care so much now?” you asked quietly, your voice almost lost in the wind. “Why are you trying so hard?”

James turned to you, his hazel eyes full of sincerity. “Because I care about you. Really care about you. And I don’t want to be the reason you’re hurt. Not anymore.”

The openness in his voice took you by surprise. You had seen James like this before, but only in fleeting moments. Now, it felt like the bravado had peeled away, leaving someone real beneath the surface.

“You weren’t like this before,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

“I know.” James leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I thought I had to be... I don’t know, bigger than life all the time. Like I had to prove something to everyone, especially myself. I’m not proud of that. But you’ve always been real with me, and I wasn’t real with you.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the weight of betrayal as strongly. You felt a little lighter, like maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

“I’m not expecting you to forgive me all at once,” James added, his voice softer now. “But I want to show you that I can be better, for you."

You looked down at your hands, picking at the edge of your sleeve. “It’s just... hard. Trust doesn’t come back that easily, James.”

“I know,” he said, his voice a little rough. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and you could see how much he meant it. There was no smirk, no playful grin—just James, raw and honest. The boy who had been careless with your heart was trying to make amends, and for the first time, you felt like he truly understood the weight of what he’d done.

The wind ruffled his hair, and for a moment, you found yourself smiling softly at the familiar sight. “You’ve got ink on your face,” you said, pointing to a smudge near his temple.

James blinked, touching his face with a confused frown. “What—oh.” He chuckled lightly, his expression sheepish. “I guess I got a bit too into planning out that Transfiguration essay.”

You shook your head with a small laugh, the sound surprising both of you. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a tiny crack in the walls you’d built up.

James seemed to catch the change in your mood and his smile widened, though he didn’t press you further. He leaned back in the seat, his gaze shifting back to the field. “You ever flown before?”

“Once,” you said, shrugging. “I’m not really a fan of heights.”

James grinned, the old spark of mischief flickering in his eyes. “Well, if you ever feel like giving it another go, I’m pretty good at keeping people safe on a broom.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Silence settled between you again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, like an old friendship slowly knitting itself back together. You weren’t sure where things would go from here, but for now, sitting here with James felt... nice.

And maybe that was enough for today.

It had taken weeks to come to a decision. Every day, you had wrestled with the memory of what James had done, how he had played with your heart like it was a game. But, as time went on, you couldn't ignore the fact that James had been trying, truly trying, to make things right. You could see it in the way he no longer sought attention, the way he was quietly helping without expecting anything in return.

Forgiveness was hard, but holding onto anger was harder. And you were tired—tired of the pain, tired of feeling like you were carrying a weight that wouldn’t let go. So, with shaky hands and a racing heart, you left a note on James’s desk:

Meet me by the Black Lake at sunset.

You didn’t write more, unsure how you would feel when the moment came. All you knew was that you had to give him—and yourself—a chance.

When James found the note, his heart nearly stopped. He read it over and over, as if afraid it might disappear before his eyes. You wanted to meet him. His mind raced, a thousand possibilities flickering through his head—was this the moment he had been waiting for? Or was it a final goodbye?

His hands trembled as he pocketed the note, trying to calm himself. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but for the first time in weeks, a spark of hope flickered in his chest.

As sunset approached, James made his way to the Black Lake, his nerves twisting with every step. And there you were, standing by the water’s edge, your arms wrapped around yourself, lost in thought as you watched the gentle ripples on the surface.

James’s heart skipped a beat. You were beautiful in the fading light, and for a moment, he simply stood there, watching you, gathering the courage to approach.

Finally, he took a breath and stepped forward. “Y/N.”

You turned, your eyes meeting his, he could see the conflict in your gaze—the hurt that still lingered, but also the kindness that had always been part of you.

You took a deep breath, glancing out at the lake before speaking again. “I’ve been thinking a lot, James. About everything. About how much I was hurt… but also about how you’ve changed.”

James stayed silent, afraid to interrupt, afraid to break the fragile moment you were sharing.

“I’m might be angry,” you admitted, your voice steady. “But I don’t want to hold onto that forever. I don’t want to carry this weight anymore.”

James looked down, his heart heavy with the guilt of everything he had put you through. “I know I hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but… I swear, Y/N, I would do anything to fix this.”

You turned to face him fully, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know if things will ever be the same, James. But I want to try. I want to give you a chance… to prove that this isn’t just another game.”

James’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You mean… you’re giving me another chance?”

You nodded slowly. “Yes. But it’s not going to be easy, James. Trust takes time to rebuild.”

For a moment, James stood frozen, processing your words. Then, without thinking, he stepped forward, gently cupping your face in his hands. His touch was warm, and careful, like he was afraid you might pull away. He gazed into your eyes, his own filled with an intensity that made your heart skip.

“I swear to you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I will never, ever hurt you like that again. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m worth trusting. I promise.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the warmth of his hands on your cheeks grounding you as your heart fluttered in your chest. You could feel the truth in his words, the genuine regret and longing behind them. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him.

Slowly, almost instinctively, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the tension between you melted away. When you opened your eyes again, James was still watching you, his gaze filled with hope and affection.

For a moment, everything felt right. You were standing by the lake, the world around you peaceful and quiet, and for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to feel that flicker of warmth you had tried so hard to ignore.

But just as you thought things might finally fall into place, a voice cut through the serene air like a blade.

“What the hell is this?”

Your heart dropped as you turned to see Archie storming toward you, his face twisted in anger. He had seen you together. James dropped his hands from your face, stepping back, but Archie was already closing the distance between you.

“Y/N, get out of the way,” Archie growled, his eyes locked on James. “I’m not letting him get away with this again.”

“You’ve got some nerve, Potter,” Archie growled, his fists clenched as he glared at James. “What did I tell you? You think you can just worm your way back into her life after what you did?”

James didn’t fight back, his hands raised in defense. “Archie, I swear, it’s not like that. I’m not trying to hurt her.”

“Not trying to hurt her?” Archie spat, his voice rising. “You’ve already done enough damage!”

“Archie, stop!” you shouted, stepping between them before Archie could throw a punch. You placed a hand on his chest, trying to push him back. “Please, just listen to me.”

Archie looked down at you, his face still twisted with anger. “Y/N, why are you defending him? After everything he did?”

“I know what he did,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “But he’s changed, Archie. He’s been trying—really trying—to make things right.”

Archie shook his head, his fists still balled. “And you believe him? After all that?”

You took a deep breath, your eyes locked on Archie’s. “Yes. I believe him. I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t.”

Archie’s jaw clenched, his fists still balled at his sides. “And what if you’re wrong? What if he breaks your heart all over again?”

You shook your head, your voice steady. “He won’t. I know he won’t.”

For a long moment, Archie said nothing, his chest rising and falling with deep, angry breaths. He looked between you and James, his jaw tight, clearly torn between wanting to protect you and the growing frustration of watching you forgive James.

Finally, Archie exhaled sharply, stepping back and dropping his fists. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice low. “But if he so much as looks at you the wrong way—”

“I know,” you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’ll beat him to a pulp.”

Archie gave James one last threatening glare before turning back to you. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I will be,” you said, looking back at James, who stood there, relief flooding his features. “I will be.”

Archie sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning to walk away, muttering something under his breath about "keeping an eye on Potter." As he disappeared into the distance, you turned back to James, who was still watching you with a mixture of gratitude and awe.

“Thank you,” James said softly, stepping closer to you once more. “I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

You smiled up at him, the warmth of his presence calming the nervous flutter in your chest. “Just don’t make me regret it, Potter.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice filled with sincerity. And this time, you believed him.

It had been a few days since the Black Lake, since that quiet moment where you'd taken the first step toward forgiving James. You hadn’t fully worked through everything yet, but the weight on your chest had lightened, if only slightly. James, true to his word, had been patient. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding more than you were ready to give.

One evening, after dinner, you found yourself sitting by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, enjoying the warmth while trying to focus on your Herbology notes. You had just managed to start working through a particularly tricky chapter when a shadow fell over your table.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said softly.

You looked up and saw James standing there, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression almost shy. It was a look you were still getting used to—the quiet James, the one without the cocky grin and the easy swagger. The one who didn’t assume you’d always want to talk to him.

“Hi,” you replied, offering a small smile.

He rocked slightly on his heels, glancing around the common room before returning his gaze to you. “I was wondering if… maybe you’d like to go for a walk?”

A walk? It seemed harmless enough. And you had to admit, the idea of stepping out into the cool night air sounded appealing after being cooped up with your books for hours.

You nodded, closing your notes. “Sure.”

James blinked in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to say yes. But he quickly recovered, grinning in that soft, hopeful way he had started to smile recently. “Great. Let’s go.”

You followed him out of the common room, the portrait of the Fat Lady swinging closed behind you as the castle corridors opened up before you. The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, your footsteps echoing off the stone floors.

The evening was quiet, with most students settling in for the night. When you reached the castle doors, James paused, opening one of them and holding it for you. The cold air rushed in, crisp and clean, carrying the scent of grass and earth. You stepped outside, feeling the refreshing chill against your skin, and James fell into step beside you as you wandered down the path that led toward the Black Lake.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the water. The stars twinkled like distant diamonds, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze made the night feel alive with gentle magic. It was peaceful here, under the sky, with the world around you so calm.

James cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You know… I’ve missed this,” he said quietly, glancing over at you. “Being able to just… be with you.”

You looked at him, noticing how the moonlight softened his features. His eyes, normally so full of mischief, were now earnest, searching yours for some kind of reassurance.

“I’ve missed it too,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed these moments, before everything had fallen apart—when James was just a boy who made you laugh, who listened to you, who made you feel seen.

James smiled, but it wasn’t his usual grin—it was softer, more thoughtful. “I know things aren’t the same,” he said, kicking a pebble with the tip of his shoe as you both walked. “And I know I’ve got a long way to go before… before you can really trust me again. But I’m going to keep trying. Every day, I’m going to keep trying.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart swell—this wasn’t the cocky, arrogant James who once thought he could charm his way through life. This was the James who was willing to work for it, who understood that he had to earn your trust back, one small step at a time.

“I appreciate that,” you said softly, your gaze drifting over the calm surface of the lake. “I really do.”

For a while, you both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. It was nice—just walking together, the cool night air wrapping around you both. You weren’t sure what it was, but something about this moment felt right. Maybe you weren’t fully healed yet, but you were beginning to believe that healing was possible.

After a few more minutes of walking, James stopped, turning to face you with a look of hesitant curiosity. “Can I ask you something?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Depends what it is.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “It’s not bad, I promise. I just… I was wondering if—if maybe you’d like to come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. He had asked it so simply, without any of his usual flair. It wasn’t a demand or an assumption. It was just a question—a genuine one, filled with hope but no expectation.

“You don’t have to say yes,” James added quickly, seeing the hesitation in your eyes. “I know things are still… complicated. But I’d love to spend some time with you outside of… all this.”

You thought about it for a moment. You weren’t sure if you were ready for anything that felt like a date—not yet. But Hogsmeade was harmless, wasn’t it? A day out, something simple, something that could help rebuild the trust you were slowly finding again.

After a moment, you nodded. “Sure,”

James’ face lit up, his eyes widening in surprise. “Really?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “Really.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, feeling a strange flutter in your stomach. You weren’t sure what was going to happen, or where this new path with James would lead. But for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—it was worth finding out.

As you continued walking beside him, the moonlight casting gentle shadows across the path, you realized that this moment, right here, was a beginning. Not a fresh start, but a continuation—something that had been broken but was slowly, carefully, being put back together.

And maybe, just maybe, you could learn to trust James again.

One small step at a time.

[danikamariewrites]

Straddle Me (smut)

Eris x reader

Notes: another installment of my favorite lil series I write for Eris 🥰 I realized the other day I really written any smut for Eris besides this stuff, then I felt bad lmao. I feel like I’m neglecting my sweet baby boy

Warnings: dry humping (I hate saying that), allusions to oral

Finally, Eris thinks, stretching his long body against the soft blankets. Alone at last. He closes his eyes, folding his arms behind his head.

It had been a very long day. Beron had required more attention from Eris than usual all afternoon. Sending him on errands all over the Forest House that brought him to advisor after advisor. Then he had his generals to meet with to go over recruitment.

It was exhausting.

And on top of all of that he hadn’t even seen you today!

You had woken up before Eris this morning to spend time with his mother. As the wedding draws closer you’ve begun shadowing Lady Autumn, learning what her duties are as the High Lord’s wife.

Eris couldn’t wait for you to return. For you to be safely in his arms.

The want for you to come back was short lived. Your hurried, excited footsteps padded across the carpet in the sitting room. Flinging the door open to the bedroom, a huge smile on your face, you let out a joyous squeal and launch yourself on the bed.

“Eris! I missed you!” You say giddily, pecking kisses to his freckled cheeks. He cradles you to his chest pressing a long kiss to your forehead, inhaling your scent. “I missed you too, little fox. Tell me about your day.” His tone was gentle and full of genuine curiosity.

To Eris’s dismay you untangle yourself from his embrace. Sitting up, you straddle his stomach, your bare things caging his clothed torso as your dress pools around the two of you. You hold onto his hands, absentmindedly playing with his fingers as you ramble about what his mother showed you.

Looking down you notice his pupils blown wide as they stare at where your legs are placed. You giggle, knowing Eris’s thoughts are wandering to something dirty that he’s itching to show you.

You wanted it too. Ever since you started reading smutty romance books things have gotten heated between you and your mate. You craved his touch every moment you could get it.

Your eyes grow wide, sparkling with mischief as an idea blossoms in your mind. Your new goal: make Eris feel as needy as you have.

The thought has a wet spot growing rapidly in your panties. You pulled his hands to your chest, cradling them and loving the heat radiating from them. “Tell me about your day, my love.”

On command, Eris starts to list everything he did today. If you wanted to hear about it he would tell you every godsdamn detail you wanted. Hell, Eris would tell you the color of the rocks stuck in his shoe if you demanded it.

As your mate's deep melodic voice fills your ears you slowly slide down his body, resting over his crotch. You begin to lightly grind your hips back and forth. Teasing your mate at an agonizing pace.

Eris tried to ignore the feeling of you rubbing against his cock. He tripped over his words as he tried to focus on you, not your movements. He could feel the blood rushing to his cock as it pressed against his pants.

He so badly wants to pin you to the mattress and tease you until your legs are shaking, begging Eris to let you come.

You pick up the pace of your hips. Eris bites down on his lips to keep from moaning loud enough for the Forest House to hear him. “Little fox… You’re going to be the death of me if you keep this up.”

The giggle that leaves your lips almost sends him over the edge. Gods, he’s going to come in his pants like a teenager.

Eris holds your hips in a vice grip that you fight through. You lean down, pressing your breasts into his chest. “Let me make you feel good, my mate.” You whispered in his ear.

Your mate was always taking charge in making you feel good. For once you wanted to rile him up. Make him feel good.

His hands slip from your hips to rest on your thighs, allowing you to continue. Resting your hands flat on his chest you quicken your pace. Biting your lip you let out a small moan. The feeling of Eris’s hard cock pressing against your soaked panties, rubbing against your clit has your back arching. Definitely better than your fingers.

You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you and Eris get this worked up over each other. And you haven’t even taken your clothes off.

Dragging your nails down his chest, Eris tenses and groans. His grip turns bruising on your hips helping you move faster. You lean down to whisper in his ear again. “Come, Eris. Let go baby, you know you want to.”

Eris pushes his face into your neck, his moans muffled as his thighs and cock twitch under you.

“Fuck,” he groans, holding you tight to his body. You smile pleased with yourself. Running your fingers through his hair you say soft ‘I love you’s to help him calm down.

Propping yourself up you bat your lashes at him innocently. Eris looks down at you breathless, “You are going to be the death of me, little fox.” You giggle and slither down his body. His eyes go wide as you reach to undo the ties of his pants. Eris knows he should feel embarrassed by the stain on his pants, but he can’t help but get turned on by your hungry gaze.

“What are you doing, little fox?” You send him a smirk and tug at the fabric restricting him. “Getting you cleaned up.”

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Twenty}

{<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Klaus Mikaelson x Hybrid!Reader} Request {Anon}: kinktober - klaus + inexperience pleeease female she/her reader maybe a new turned hybrid? learning how to control her new instincts? xoxo

♡♡♡ Anonnnnn, I adore this idea, its a crime we never got Klaus in his wolf form... all that work and nonsense to become a hybrid & he only wolfs out once???? ♡♡♡

2.5k words - Kinks: hybrid!reader, wolf!klaus, outdoor sex, inexperience, Klaus being a sweetie && a dead deer...

Autumn leaves crunched under your paws as you ran through the woods, the air crisp and cold against your fur. It was your favorite season, and the freedom you now felt as a hybrid was overwhelming. No longer bound to the moon, your new life was yours to command. The heightened senses of smell and hearing allowed you to fully immerse yourself in the beauty of the forest.

Before, when you were a regular werewolf, the forced shift had been a curse, something you dreaded. Now, as a hybrid, shifting felt natural, like an extension of yourself. You reveled in it, feeling powerful and wild. The air smelled sharper, the colors brighter, and you could hear everything, the wind brushing the trees, distant birds, and Klaus behind you.

The crunch of leaves and his familiar scent made you slow down. You looked over your shoulder and saw him, your sire, your alpha, his white fur gleaming in the sunlight, his golden eyes locked on you. There was something grounding about his presence, a reminder that you were safe, but also a silent challenge. He was always just a step ahead, faster, stronger.

He trotted up to you, his nose brushing yours in an affectionate nuzzle. A small yip escaped you, playfully turning away to bound off again, the thrill of your new instincts too much to contain. Klaus let you run, though you knew he could catch up easily, watching you with that familiar, almost indulgent gleam in his eyes. You felt the wildness in your veins, the world around you sharper, more vivid. It was exhilarating.

When the deer came into view, grazing peacefully, you crouched low, every muscle tensed. The instinct was all-consuming, as natural as breathing. You leapt, taking the animal down with a swift bite. The blood, the raw power, coursed through you, leaving you breathless. Klaus was beside you in an instant, his eyes glowing with approval. The thrill of the hunt still buzzed in your veins, but it was his presence that made it complete.

But when you caught the scent of something far off, you couldn’t resist. Ignoring Klaus's warning growl, you sprinted towards it, the prey, your prey, etched into your senses. You felt his presence behind you, but he was letting you lead, giving you the chase. The thought made you grin inwardly as your heart raced, the thrill building.

After you had your fill, he led you to a nearby stream. You followed, the taste of the kill still sharp in your mouth, but the intensity of it left you almost light-headed. Everything was so new, so heightened. When you reached the water, Klaus shifted back into his human form, standing tall and magnificent as ever.

You followed suit, your body naked and vulnerable, but there was no fear with him. Yet something fluttered in your stomach, something new. The way he looked at you was different now, the weight of his gaze making your skin prickle with heat. He was more than just your sire, more than just your protector. The air between you had always been charged, but now it felt like a live wire.

Klaus jumped into the stream, hissing at the cold, and beckoned for you to join him. You did, the cool water shocking against your heated skin, but it did nothing to quell the fire building inside.

“That was amazing,” you said, your voice breathless, half from the hunt and half from the intense sensation of being near him, the water swirling around you both.

He smiled, that familiar, dangerous smile that always made your heart stutter. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. You’re getting stronger every day,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

You met his eyes, your breath catching. “I didn’t realize how powerful I would feel as a hybrid.”

Klaus’s gaze held yours, something dark and possessive flickering behind the blue. “It’s liberating, isn’t it?”

You nodded, moving closer to him without thinking, your heart pounding. The tension between you was almost unbearable now. You had felt it before, simmering in the background, but it was sharper now, impossible to ignore. Since your transition, Klaus had been your guide, your anchor in this new world. But the more time you spent with him, the more you were aware of him and the desire you felt for him.

A part of you was still intimidated by him. Klaus was dangerous, with centuries of experience, confident in ways that left you feeling small and inexperienced. You had never been with anyone before, let alone someone like him. The thought made you hesitate, anxiety swirling beneath the desire that was building between you.

“What’s on your mind, love?” he asked, his voice soft, but commanding, as though he could sense the war inside you.

You swallowed, looking down at the water. “I just... it’s a lot. Everything feels so intense now.”

He reached for your hand beneath the water, his touch gentle but firm. “You’re doing beautifully,” he said, his voice soothing. “I wouldn’t have chosen you if I didn’t believe that.”

His words made your heart race for a different reason, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the chill of the water. You looked up at him, his praise making your insides flutter. Klaus had always been proud of you, but this felt different—more intimate, more personal.

“I’ve never felt like this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “So... free and powerful.”

Klaus’s eyes darkened with something unreadable as he moved a little closer, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. “It’s a gift, love. One I’m happy to share with you.”

Your breath hitched at the way he said it, his voice dripping with promise. The space between you seemed to vanish, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing the waters. But the second his hand moved to your waist, pulling you against him, everything inside you ignited.

You deepened the kiss, moaning as his tongue swept across your lower lip. The water was cold, but Klaus was warm, his bare skin pressed against yours. His hands were everywhere, sliding up and down your sides, teasing over the curve of your ass, making you arch into him.

He pulled you into his arms and suddenly stood, the water pouring off you both. You clung to him, gasping, and then you were back on the bank, the fallen leaves cool and soft beneath you.

Klaus hovered over you, his eyes dark with desire, but there was something else there, something tender and protective.

"My pretty little wolf," he murmured, his hand cupping your cheek, the touch gentle. "Why are you trembling?"

You were acutely aware of his body, hard and unyielding, pressed against yours, and it made you want him even more. "I'm not scared," you said, your voice a little breathless. "I've just... I've never done this before."

His eyes widened a little, a look of understanding flashing across his face. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his voice soft.

You shook your head, the desire still pulsing through you, a steady drumbeat in your veins. "Please don't."

He leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so tender, so sweet, that it made you melt. You parted your legs, his thigh sliding between them, the pressure sending a bolt of pleasure through you. Klaus growled softly, his hands moving over your body, leaving trails of fire everywhere he touched.

You were shaking, the need for him threatening to overwhelm you, and yet he took his time, as though savoring every inch of your skin.

When he slid his hand between your thighs, finding you wet and ready, his breath hitched.

"Is this okay, love?" he asked, his fingers teasing against your entrance, making you arch and gasp.

You nodded, unable to find the words and he leaned in and kissed you, deep and possessive, as his fingers slid inside you.

The pleasure was sharp and hot, burning through your veins. You clung to him, the intensity of the sensation nearly too much, but his other hand came up to cradle your face, his lips never leaving yours.

"Klaus," you gasped, the sound lost in his kiss.

He smiled against your lips, his voice low and seductive. "I've got you, love. Just relax."

He kissed his way down your neck, his fingers curling inside you, making you moan. The pleasure built and built, until you felt like you were on the edge of a cliff, about to fall.

"That's it, sweetheart. Come for me," he murmured, his thumb rubbing against your clit.

The orgasm crashed over you, and you cried out, arching into him. He kissed you, his touch gentle, easing you through the aftershocks.

"Such a good girl," he said, his voice full of approval.

The praise made more heat pool between your legs, your skin flushed and sensitive. You wanted him so badly, it was almost painful. "Klaus, please..."

He pulled you into his arms, cradling you close. "What do you need, sweetheart?"

You blushed, but the need was overwhelming. "I need you. All of you."

He kissed you, the tenderness gone, replaced by something hot and primal. He positioned your legs on either side of his waist, the tip of his cock teasing against your entrance.

"Tell me if it's too much," he said, his eyes locking with yours.

You nodded, the anticipation and arousal making you dizzy. You felt the veins under your eyes pop out, and the urge to sink your teeth into his neck and drink was almost unbearable. All these new feelings, all the instincts were overwhelming, and yet, when he eased inside you, they seemed to melt away, replaced by an intoxicating bliss.

Klaus' gaze was fixed on your face, entranced by the way your lips parted in pleasure, the way your new vampire nature manifested itself in a beautiful, deadly display. You were the most stunning creature he had ever seen, and the way you looked at him with such trust and adoration was almost enough to make him lose control.

He guided your hips in a slow, deliberate motion, allowing you time to adjust to the feel of him. Your hands gripped his shoulders, anchoring yourself as the intensity of the sensation built. Your breasts pressed against his chest, his cock sliding in and out of you, deeper and deeper.

"Fuck," you breathed, the words falling from your lips without thinking.

He smiled, his eyes darkening with desire. His pretty little wolf was learning new things, and the sight of her was almost too much to bear. "You like that, sweetheart? You like the way I feel inside you?"

You moaned, unable to find the words. The pleasure was unlike anything you'd ever experienced, and you needed more.

"You are a hybrid now, with new vampire powers and sensations," he said, his voice rough and gravelly, sending a thrill through you. "Close your eyes, and feel everything. Allow your new instincts to guide you."

You did as he asked, letting your eyes fall closed, and the world exploded around you. You could hear the wind in the trees, the birds in the distance, the rapid beat of his heart. The heat of his skin against yours, the feel of him moving inside you, all of it was magnified, and yet, there was a strange calm beneath it, an otherworldly peace.

Klaus watched your face, mesmerized by the way your expression shifted, the pleasure and new sensations written clearly on your features. He was overcome with a feeling of pride, and possessiveness. He wanted to consume you, to possess you, to claim you, and make sure everyone knew who you belonged to.

Your eyes snapped open, your gaze locking with his. The intensity of the feeling, the power of your new senses, the pleasure, was too much, and you found yourself wanting to drink from him, to taste him, and connect with him in a way that was beyond human comprehension.

He watched as your fangs extended, the bloodlust written on your face, and he felt a surge of pride. He tilted his head, offering himself to you, and a rush of arousal surged through him as he felt your fangs sink into his skin.

The taste of his blood on your tongue, the way he moved inside you, the scent of him filling your senses, it was too much. The tension inside you snapped, and your orgasm tore through you, taking over every sense.

Klaus' grip on you tightened, and his pace increased, his movements becoming rougher and more erratic. He growled, a deep, primal sound, and you felt him come, the sensation sending another wave of pleasure through you.

Before you could process what had happened, Klaus flipped you onto your back, the leaves crunching beneath you. He kissed his way down your body, his hands gripping your hips, and settled between your legs.

"What are you—"

"Hush, love," he murmured, his lips pressing to the inside of your thigh. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

He kissed and licked and sucked at the sensitive flesh, making you squirm and moan, your fingers tangling in his hair. The air was cold on your heated skin, and the way he was looking at you made your stomach tighten. You were already sensitive from your previous release, and the feeling of his tongue lapping at you was almost too much.

"Klaus..."

"So sweet," he murmured, his tongue dragging through the wetness, making you shudder.

You came undone on his tongue, and when he slid up to kiss you, the taste of yourself on his lips was strangely erotic. You felt spent and relaxed, and the intensity of the moment seemed to settle into a content, quiet bliss.

The sun was setting, and the forest was growing quiet. You could have stayed there forever, wrapped in Klaus's arms, but he kissed you gently and pulled you to your feet.

"We should get back," he said, getting to his feet and offering his hand.

You took it, and he pulled you up, the feel of his skin against yours sending a jolt of electricity through you. He grinned down at your naked body, his eyes dark and full of promise.

"I think we should do this again sometime," he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "It was rather fun, don't you agree?"

You nodded, your face flushed. He gave you a knowing smirk and kissed you, slow and deep, before backing up, his eyes glowing yellow.

"Race you back, love."

You grinned and shifted, leaping into the woods. As the wind ruffled your fur, you felt lighter than air, the thrill of the chase sending a jolt through your veins.

You might not have known everything about this new life, but one thing was certain—you were going to enjoy every second of it.

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[moonstruckme]

i’m obsessed with everything you write! you write our boys so well 🖤🖤 could I request poly!marauders maybe with some casual dominance and just taking care of the reader? like picking out her clothes, making sure she eats, just being protective but also so soft with her

Thanks lovely! Here you go :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Morning, angel,” James chirps as you step into the kitchen. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good, thanks.” You take the coffee he hands you, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “You?”

“Phenomenally. How do you want your eggs?”

“I’m alright without, thanks though.” You sit down next to Remus at the table, taking a sip of your coffee. It’s just the way you like it, with heaps of cream and sugar. 

“Can’t skip breakfast, dove,” Remus says, hardly looking up from the newspaper as he speaks to you. 

“I don’t feel like eggs,” you reply, watching him warily over the top of your mug, trying to gauge if he might let it go. “And I’m not really hungry anyway.” 

Amber eyes flick up to yours as Remus turns the page. “You’re not going to work on an empty stomach. You need to eat something.” 

“I’ll make you something else,” James offers sweetly. “Whaddya want, my love?”

You smile at him, batting your eyelashes. “Could I have some toast please, Jamie?”

He flips his spatula expertly, winking at you. “Might be above my skill level, but I’ll do my best for you, angel.”

You laugh, and Remus rolls his eyes at the both of you. Sirius trods in still wearing his pajama bottoms, a smirk coming to his lips as he reads the room instantly. 

“In trouble already?” he drops a kiss on the top of your head, reaching over to squeeze Remus’ shoulder in greeting. “What’ve you done now, hm?”

Your eyes dart nervously to Remus, waiting to see if he’ll rat you out. Though Remus is the sternest of your boyfriends, Sirius delights in being in charge, and you know he’ll rub it in the most. You imagine it’s the older brother in him. 

“It’s resolved,” Remus says simply, and you think you detect the faintest twitch of his lips when you grin at him in relief. 

“Siri, have you seen the leaves outside?” you ask hastily, going for the distraction before he can attempt to pry further. “It’s like they finally turned just overnight.” 

He takes the bait, leaning back in his seat to peer out the window. You’d been ecstatic when you’d cracked the curtains in your bedroom this morning to see your street had taken on a whole new color palate, everything red and orange and golden. “It does finally look like autumn, doesn’t it?” He gives you a critical once-over. “That isn’t going to do for the chill out there, sweetheart.”

You look down at your skirt and blouse. You quite like this outfit. “You think? It’s not supposed to be that cold yet, is it?”

Sirius raises a brow just as Remus finishes with the paper, folding it and looking up to see what the two of you are on about. “It’s September, love,” he reasons. “If it got cold enough last night to turn the leaves, it’s cold enough to at least wear a jumper.” 

“I’m thinking fleece tights and a sweatshirt,” Sirius says contemplatively, more to Remus than to you. “Don’t run off after breakfast, dollface, and I’ll go pick them out for you.” 

You start to protest, but then Sirius’ mouth drops open, and you turn to see James teetering toward you, balancing four plates across his arms. 

“Fucking hell, Prongs,” he breathes, but James manages to distribute all four dishes safely, setting your toast in front of you last with a flourish. 

“Good idea,” he says, picking up the previous conversation as though nothing has happened. “Can’t have our girl shivering out there in the cold.” 

You roll your eyes but munch happily on your toast, ignoring how Remus eyes you watchfully as you eat. 

Since you finish first, you offer to wash up while Sirius goes and selects the additions to your outfit as he sees fit, changing into them afterwards. You have to admit, the day does look promisingly crisp outside your bedroom window, and the tights and sweatshirt he has you layer with what you already have on are soft and comfy. 

“Let me get those for you,” James offers as you pull on your shoes, and you place your foot on his knee obediently, letting him tie them both with a firm pat on the side of your shoe once he’s done. “There y’go, angel. Double-knotted and everything.” 

You press a rewarding kiss to his cheek, and Sirius comes in from canoodling with Remus to oversee his handiwork. He hums, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in your tights and adjusting the sweatshirt on your shoulders unnecessarily while you and James exchange glances, each fighting to keep a straight face. “Might need a scarf too,” he muses, and James bursts into laughter.

“Siri, come on,” you protest, unable to contain a few giggles of your own. 

James grabs Sirius around the waist, throwing him onto the bed beside you. “Work on your own outfit, Pads.” 

“You’re all going to be late if you don’t get going,” Remus says, smiling at the scene as he comes in. James detaches himself from Sirius, his expression morphing into that well-practiced facade of angelic innocence. 

“I was just on my way out,” he says, giving Remus a goodbye kiss. “See you all later.” He pats you on the head as he passes, and then he’s out the door. 

Remus moves to the bed, leaning over Sirius, who props himself up on his elbows to meet him halfway. “Get dressed,” Remus says as he breaks the kiss, tucking a piece of silky black hair behind Sirius’ ear. “You can’t afford to be late again, love.” 

You stand as he moves to you next, wrapping a long-fingered hand around the side of your hip, and you let your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you sweetly. “Be good,” he says softly, placing an additional kiss at your temple. “I’ll see you tonight, dovey.” 

“See you tonight,” you echo, and then it’s just Sirius and you, his eyes playful as they meet yours. 

“Be good,” he coos mockingly. “Think you can do that all day long?”

You grin, picking up your bag from the end of the bed. “Hey, at least I’m dressed.” 

“Oi!” Sirius says as you leave the room. “Where’s my kiss?”

“Sorry,” you reply gaily, “can’t be late. You can’t afford to either, remember?” 

“Oh, feeling bold, are we?” he calls after you. “We’ll see how bold you are later tonight.”

[therealcocoshady]

Yes 💍

A/N : a while ago I got an Ask requesting that I wrote the episode of the « Marshall + Lily » series in which he finally gets married to reader (Lily’s mom). I was in a mood to write but felt like I needed a little break from Kinktober so… here we are 💕. I hope you enjoy it !

The morning of the wedding was quiet, filled with a nervous excitement that buzzed through Marshall as he adjusted his suit in the mirror. He hadn’t slept much the night before. He missed both you and Lily too much, but you had agreed to honor tradition and spend some time apart before the big day. He couldn’t care less, but you had insisted that it would make the moment even more special. Besides, it was only 48 hours, so it wouldn’t be the end of the world, right ? If anything, it would be a opportunity for him to enjoy some good times spent with his brother and friends - his last hours as a « bachelor », before tying the knot for what would be the last time ever.

Nate had made sure that these 48 hours were time well spent. Evidently, he had taken his role as best man to heart, making sure he got to enjoy life as a « single » man (on paper) one last time. It had been fun, for sure, but it had mostly reminded him of little he would miss it all. He was truly grateful that he got to commit to you and that, after this day, you and Lily would officially be his family.

From the moment you started planning the wedding, it had been important to include both of your children as much as possible. After all, it was the point of all of this : forming a blended, tight-knit family. Alaina was to serve as wedding officiant, Hailie would walk Marshall down the aisle, Stevie would be in charge of the wedding rings as well as Lily, who would be the flower girl. Your little girl being two, you knew she would most likely need someone to monitor her while she walked down the aisle and, Stevie being her new favorite sister, it felt like a good choice.

The ceremony was set up outside, a stunning backdrop of autumn leaves casting shades of red and gold over the aisle. Both of your friends and family sat in neat rows, everyone turning to look as the music started, a soft, sweet melody filling the air. Marshall took a deep breath, his heart pounding with anticipation as he walked down the aisle with Hailie. As soon as he reached the altar, he gave her a long, heartfelt hug and focused his attention on the aisle. He couldn’t wait to see you walk to him. His bride. The love of his life. He was minutes away from marrying you and the wait was still too long.

But first came Stevie and Lily. They were walking side by side and he could tell his youngest was keeping a close watch on her new sister. Lily toddled down the aisle, clutching a small basket with all the focus and determination her little face could muster. Dressed in a tiny white dress with a delicate flower crown on her head, she looked every bit the perfect flower girl. She had a tiny frown of concentration as she tried to remember her instructions, taking a few steps and then stopping to grab a handful of petals. With a small, serious toss, she’d sprinkle them on the ground, glancing up occasionally, as if making sure she was doing it right. His heart melted. She was the cutest thing ever and, with the focused frown on her face, she looked just like you.

But then, halfway down the aisle, Lily’s eyes met his, and everything changed. The moment she spotted him, her whole face lit up, her little mouth stretching into a big, toothy grin. Her tiny hands released the basket, petals scattering across the aisle as she took off toward him, her little legs moving as fast as they could. Too fast for Stevie to grab her, anyway.

“Daddy!” she squealed, her voice carrying through the ceremony, pure joy and excitement bubbling over as she ran, arms outstretched, her flower crown slipping slightly as she sprinted down the aisle. Marshall felt a lump rise in his throat, and he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he knelt down, his arms open wide to catch her. He could hear the soft laughter and murmurs of the guests around them, but for him, everything else faded away. There was only Lily, his precious little girl, running to him as if nothing else in the world mattered. When she reached him, she practically launched herself into his arms, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck as he lifted her up, holding her close. She nestled her face into his shoulder, babbling something incoherent but full of love, as if she’d been waiting weeks to see him. He threw a glance at Stevie, silently assuring her that everything was ok. In fact, everything was perfect.

“Hey, Lil,” he whispered, brushing a soft kiss against her cheek as he held her. “I missed you too, baby girl.” Lily patted his cheek, her little hands clinging to him as if she didn’t want to let go. He could feel the warmth of her against him, and he knew this was a moment he’d never forget. The laughter and whispers of your family and friends filled the air around them, a mix of affection and amusement at the sight.

You were watching from the other end of the aisle, feeling your heart swell as you took in the scene. You had been waiting for your cue to make your entrance, but seeing Lily abandon her flower duties to run to Marshall brought tears to your eyes. This was everything you had ever wanted—a man who loved you, who loved your daughter, with a devotion that was fierce and unbreakable. She could see the love in his eyes as he held Lily close, and it made your heart ache with happiness.

After a moment, Marshall gently set Lily down, giving her a soft pat on the back. “Okay, kiddo, how about you go sit with Grandma now?” he whispered, his voice warm and full of pride. But Lily shook her head, her little face scrunched up in defiance, clinging to his leg as if she’d never let go. With a soft laugh, Marshall glanced at the crowd, shrugging in mock surrender as he held out his hand. “Alright, looks like I’ve got a plus-one for this ceremony.”

The guests chuckled, and your heart swelled even more as you finally began your walk down the aisle, the music changing to a gentle, romantic melody. You moved slowly, your eyes never leaving his, heart racing as you took in the way he looked at you —the same way he’d looked at Lily, with love and devotion, but this time, there was something even deeper, a promise in his gaze. As he stared at you, as he took in your beauty and how radiant you were in your gown, he couldn’t help but be overcome with emotion. From the very beginning of your relationship, he had been fully aware of how lucky he was, but that instant had him feeling blessed. The years before you had been difficult. It had been a decade full of pain, grief and sorrow. And yet, happiness had managed to find him. Life had blessed him with an incredible wife and a new daughter. He was so happy that he couldn’t help the tears from falling. « Daddy ! No crying ! » Lily called in an alarmed voice that made everyone smile. Marshall let out a small laugh and wiped his tears before crouching down to carry her. « I’m not sad, baby. I’m just really, really happy. » he said softly. He held her close while they looked at you.

As you reached him, Marshall handed Lily off to Stevie with a soft, affectionate smile, finally able to turn his full attention to you. He reached out, taking your hands in his, his eyes filled with a love that was almost overwhelming.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, just for you. You smiled, a tear slipping down your cheek as you squeezed his hands. “So do you. Though I think someone else is stealing the show.” You shared a laugh, both glancing over at Lily, who was sitting in her sister’s lap, watching you with bright eyes and a big smile, as if she knew exactly what was happening.

The ceremony proceeded, filled with heartfelt vows, quiet laughter, and promises spoken in soft, trembling voices. When it was finally time for Marshall to say “I do,” he looked at you with an intensity that took your breath away, his voice steady and full of certainty.

“I do. With all my heart,” he said, glancing briefly at Lily before looking back at you. “To both of you.” As you exchanged rings and shared your first kiss as husband and wife, the crowd erupted in applause, and Lily clapped along, babbling with joy as if she understood exactly what this meant. Marshall held you close, feeling the weight of his promises settle into his heart, and he knew that this was the family he’d fought for, the life he’d dreamed of.

[coppy-catt]

you stood quietly, your arms wrapped around megumi, feeling the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat through his thick jacket. the world outside seemed a blur, as snowflakes danced in the air, but in that moment, everything else faded away.

you had been friends since childhood, sharing secret dreams and secret kisses under the vibrant colors of autumn leaves. yet, as the seasons changed, so did your feelings—swirling like the snow around you, unknown if they are reciprocated or not.

you looked up at megumi, your heart racing. memories flooded your mind—the times you two would meet under the old oak tree, countless afternoons spent daydreaming about the future. but today was different; the world felt charged with unspoken words.

“megumi,” you whispered, your voice barely breaking the silence. he hummed in response.

“what…” your voice caught in your throat, but you swallowed the nerves away. “…are we?”

he paused, the weight of your question hanging in the air. the warmth of your presence flooded through him, igniting emotions he had tried to suppress. “what do you mean?”

regret settled heavily in your chest. you wanted to sink into the floor. the silence that followed wrapped around you like a heavy blanket, thick and suffocating, holding the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

“i don’t know - nevermind.” you tried to pull away but megumi held you tighter.

“no! i didn’t mean - i meant - “ he paused, took a deep breath and tried again.

“i know what you meant. i just didn’t want to get ahead of myself.”

ahead of himself?

you pondered over his words.

a poke in the forehead pulled you back into reality. a deep blush warmed your cheeks as you caught his gaze.

“where did you go?” he questioned, his eyes soft and reflecting a mix of fear and hope.

she rested her head back onto his shoulder.

“nowhere,”

i’m staying right here.

in that moment, under the gray sky, they took a step forward, hearts intertwined like a warm thread woven through the cold tapestry of winter. they stood together, embracing the uncertainty, the fear, and all the beauty that lay ahead—ready to reshape their world together, one snowy step at a time.

[vitalverstappen]

House Rules - C. Sainz

summary: everyone knew you loved halloween, but no one knew just how much.

pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, use of y/n

word count: 1.4k

a/n: literally got this idea while driving home from work today and scrambled to write it to get something out for you guys for halloween!

masterlist

It was well known that Carlos was a partier. Even if he was nowhere near the podium, you knew he was going to find his way to a local club. His energy was infectious, and his love for staying out till dawn was a constant in his life. 

You, on the other hand, adored Halloween. The scary movies, the candy, the pumpkin carving - everything about it filled you with joy. It was your favorite time of year, beating out the other holidays by a long shot. There was something magical about the crisp autumn air, the thrill of ghost stories, and the excitement of choosing a costume. 

So, it was a no-brainer to combine the two this year and host a Halloween party for the grid. As the day approached, you decorated your house with cobwebs, jack-o-lanterns, and the occasional fake body part. A photo booth was set up in one of the guest rooms, filled with props and eerie backdrops. 

Meanwhile, Carlos put himself in charge of making all of the treats, knowing you’d burn the place down if you tried. His famous witches brew was the center of it all though - a giant smoking cauldron, filled with most likely dangerous levels of alcohol and mixers.  

The costume you two landed on was Rapunzel and Flynn Rider. It was safe enough for when the little kids came by trick-or-treating, but easy to spice up for later in the night.

As the night kicked off, the house buzzed with excitement. Friends arrived in droves, dressed in a mix of costumes - from witches, to pop culture icons, to inside jokes you would never understand. 

You and Carlos found yourselves at the beer pong table. Lando and his girlfriend had been running the table all night, and it was your turn to challenge them.

“Ready to lose?” Lando taunted, flashing a cocky grin

“Yeah, sure” Carlos said, rolling his eyes with a smirk

While Lando and his girlfriend were good, Carlos quickly fell into a rhythm. With each flick of his wrist, the ball sank into a new cup, and you could see the confidence grow in him. You were terrible, missing just about every shot you took. 

“Here, cariño, let me help,” Carlos said, leaning in closer to show you how to hold the ball properly. 

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Lando whined from across the table

“House rules” You called back before looking at your boyfriend. “Teach me your ways”

Carlos grinned as he took your hand, adjusting your grip on the sticky ping pong ball. “Just focus on the cup. And remember, it’s all in the wrist.”

With his guidance, you finally managed to land a shot, the ball bouncing into the cup with a satisfying splash. 

“See? You’re a natural” Carlos teased as you felt a rush of unexpected excitement. 

Lando and his girlfriend ended up clawing back for the win, leaving the table to be theirs. You were silently thankful for the loss, as you weren’t sure how many decent shots you had left in you. 

You were already feeling tipsy from the game, but you still found yourself back at the cauldron. There, you found Alexandra and Charles dressed as Ginny and Harry from Harry Potter. 

“Hey! So glad you could make it!” You said as you poured yourself a red solo cup full of Carlos’ concoction, the bright colors swirling both enticingly and as a warning. “How’s it going?” 

“We’re glad we could make it.” Alexandra said. “We’ve been good.” 

“Currently just trying to dodge the beer pong table. I’ve seen Lando running it all night. How did you do?” Charles asked, adjusting his glasses 

“Let’s just say I need more practice.” You said, shaking your head though there was a small smile on your face. “Carlos helped out a lot” 

“Of course he did. He’s a pro at everything” Alexandra laughed, glancing over at Carlos who was too busy trying to convince Pierre to join in playing another round of pong. 

“He’s definitely got the skills.” you replied, taking a sip of the drink, wincing as the drink burned your throat “ But I think I might stick to just munching on the candy.” 

“Speaking of candy, did you guys spike the gummy worms?” Charles asked, raising his eyebrow with a grin 

You nodded, a fresh gleam in your eye “Yeah, you like them?” 

“They’re addicting” Charles said 

As the night continued, the drinks kept flowing, leading to hazy decisions. The apple bobbing station was more packed than you had expected it to be, George currently the one taking his shot. You walked over, curious to see what the excitement was about. 

Standing over George was Alex, egging him on to go faster. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sheer determination on George’s face as he fought to get the fruit. 

“You’re doing a shit job, mate” Alex said as George gasped for air

“It’s not my fault this thing wasn’t built for tall people in mind!” He complained, water streaming down his face 

“Let me help,” Alex said as he flashed a mischievous grin. He placed his hand on the back of George’s head, shoving it back into the water. 

Moments later, George reemerged, sputtering, laughing through the exasperation. “Dude, what the hell?” he yelled, wiping his face with his hand 

Alex just laughed, clearly enjoying the scene that played out “You have to commit! You won’t get anywhere with that half-hearted effort” 

Every time you refilled your cup, you found yourself reaching a new high. The colors of the party blurred together, creating a dreamy haze. You leaned back against one of the walls, watching the chaos of the party. An arm wrapped around your waist, and without even looking, you knew it was Carlos. 

You leaned into his warmth, feeling a surge of affection. “How’d the second pong game go?” you asked 

Carlos chuckled, the rise and fall of his chest comforting “I managed to convince Pierre and Kika to take over, so it’s going great now” He motioned to the table, where the couple was trying to master the game. 

“Good luck to them, they need it” You chuckled as you turned to face your boyfriend. 

Carlos looked down at you, his soft eyes quickly transitioning to ones full of mischief. “I think we need to shake things up a little and see who can handle the witches brew”

“That sounds so ominous” you laughed “You could’ve just suggested a drinking contest”

The two of you made your way over to the cauldron, a stack of solo cups waiting for you. The neon colors of the liquid glowed ominously in the dim light. You filled two cups up to the brim with the liquid, already dreading your agreement to do this. 

A few of the other drivers and their respective others grabbed cups, quickly piecing together what was about to go down. The ones who didn’t reach for a cup, whipped out their phones to record. 

“Three, two, one - go!” 

You threw your head back, gulping down the sweet yet potent mixture. The crowd cheered, laughter and playful shouts filling the air. You could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you raced to finish your drink. 

Glancing over, you caught sight of Carlos, his focus intense. You could see the competitive spark in his eyes as he downed the cup, the two of you neck-and-neck.

With one final gulp, you slammed your cup down on the ground, throwing your hands up in victory. “Another win” you exclaimed, breathless. 

Carlos, a moment behind, laughed and wrapped his arms around you. “Only because I let you, mi hermosa”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that” you teased, enjoying the moment in Carlos’ arms. 

The party continued, fueled by more drinks and the infectious energy in the room. You danced alongside Carlos, letting the music guide you. 

As the night wore on, you took a moment to step outside on the balcony for some fresh air. The cool autumn breeze kissed your cheeks, and you took a deep breath, savoring the scent of fallen leaves. 

Carlos joined you, slipping his hand into yours as you both leaned against the railing. “What do you think?” he asked, glancing at the party through the window, where you’re pretty sure you saw Toto up on someone’s shoulders.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t want to spend Halloween any other way” you answered

He smiled, his gaze softening “Neither would I” 

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, and 542,974 more

tagged: carlossainz55, francolapinto

yourusername: first ever sainz-l/n halloween party! thanks to everyone for coming and making the best holiday even better! p.s. williams, franco isn't dead, i just found him sleeping on my stairs

view all comments

user1: I NEEDED A HALLOWEEN WAG! THANK GOD

user2: ikr, all of them go hard for everything else, except the best holiday

francolapinto: why did you take a photo instead of WAKING ME UP AND GETTING ME TO BED??

yourusername: you looked comfy, I didn't want to wake you charles_leclerc: mate i could've shared the bathtub with you user3: hold up, charles was in the BATHTUB??? carlossainz55: someone had one too many spiked gummy worms

landonorris: i still can't believe you cheated at pong. shoulda been DQ'd

carlossainz55: it wasn't cheating, she couldn't land a ball if the cups were the size of a lake yourusername: you guys know I get notifs for you roasting me on my own post, right?

landonorris: yes. carlossainz55: yes.

user4: is that...george? ...bobbing for...apples?

alex_albon: yes. he lost though. george is a loser.

georgerussell63: i would've won if you didn't idk push my head in

alex_albon: still a loser.

[shoujo-wizard]

Bewitched by Yuletide p.2 🫖

[Hallmark movie AU steddie A/B/O ft kitchen witch Steve & former rockstar Eddie, O!Steve/A!Eddie]

[some O!Steve pov & backstory as well as A!Robin backstory too]

🎸p.1

when Steve was 13 he went through his very first heat. when Steve was 13 his alpha father left him in the care of his grandpa for an entire summer that turned into an entire school year that turned into his father signing away his parental rights to Steve to his own parent in Steve's freshman year at Hawkins High.

the adults never told him, but Steve deduced it was because he'd begun coming into his Talent. in the days after his first heat, before his father had driven him to Hawkins Indiana he would be completing his chores faster than he'd begun them. he'd know exactly who was about to ring the doorbell without ever looking out the window. Steve remembered the disgust on his father's face when Steve had correctly guessed what Richard Harrington had enjoyed eating most growing up without the topic ever being brought up. so Steve ended up raised by his remaining grandparent.

his omega grandpa Peter Harrington explained to him what was happening. he'd entered his 13th year, and that meant he began to be capable of things others weren't. apparently his grandpa's family, the Frumps, were a proud line of kitchen witches. Steve had evidently inherited the Talent. so as he grew into his Talents, Peter taught him everything he knew. Steve learned recipes & spells at his grandpa's elbow in the beautiful house his alpha grandma, the late Amelia Harrington, had bought just for her mate.

Steve learned how to start the autumn with a perpetual stew that would seemingly have no end till spring using the talents his grandpa helped him develop. his simmer pots only grew more fragrant as years went by. in the spring & summers he learned how to use his Talents in a way tht helped the vegetable garden flourish, even though neither were a green witch. his grandpa had beamed with pride telling him tht he was an even more powerful kitchen witch than his great-grandma Eva. as he got older, he was given more responsibilities in the kitchen. the different holidays became times for his grandpa to test his Talent as he neared high school graduation.

then the summer after he graduated, as he prepared to attend classes at the Roane County Community College, his grandpa Peter had a heart attack in his sleep. as the executor of estate Steve was in charge of too much concerning the death. he buried his grandpa five days later, many people who'd known Peter Harrington came to help Steve celebrate a life well lived, many people brought him casseroles, many people gave their condolences, many people told Steve stories he'd never heard.

Richard Harrington never picked up the phone or answered the voicemail Steve left him. Richard Harrington never responded to the second voicemail Steve left him informing him that Peter Harrington had written him out of his will, that Steve was now the sole inheritor of the entire Harrington fortune his grandma had worked so hard to build, and his grandpa had worked so hard to preserve.

his grandpa Peter taught him many things as a witch. that his Talent was his to manifest, his to explore, his to expand. that his heart was bursting with love, and that wasn't a weakness. he taught him that life continues on, time does not stop, the seasons will always change, and that the dead will never forget the living.

at his grandpa's funeral Steve met someone who told him stories about his grandpa when he was a Home Economics teacher at Hawkins High. Wayne Munson was a gruff alpha who looked stoic, but his manner of speaking was gentle. Steve could see the genuine kindness Wayne radiated, and he was grateful when Wayne came by the house that was now Steve's with ingredients for a sweet corn and cucumber salad. Steve sipped cold water with crushed mint while Wayne cooked. Grandpa Peter's favorite vinyl was playing in the living room, Cass Elliot's 1973 album titled Mama's Big Ones.

time went on, seasons changed, Steve started a weekly tradition of having Wayne over for Sunday dinner. he started classes at the community college, got very invested in a history class about textiles, and in the community college's library he always sat silently at the same table as another student. she was a trans feminine alpha who'd chosen the name Robin, she had moved to Hawkins for community college after graduating from high school a year early. they ended up locked in the libraries gender-neutral bathroom when the door got stuck, it was during finals and the library was open two hours longer. as they waited for the night janitor they bonded about grandparents, about parents that weren't equipped to accept them in their entirety, and Robin even confessed she only found other alpha women attractive.

Afterward they became two halves of a whole. Robin joined Sunday dinners. She spent more time sleeping over at Steve's home than she did at the apartment above her grandparent's bookstore. Robin told him that her family had owned the only bookstore in Hawkins since 1810, making it the oldest bookstore in the state of Indiana. when Steve told her he's a kitchen witch she lit up with questions after a moment of disbelief. Robin eagerly joined him in all the pagan holiday traditions his grandpa had taught him. they agreed their mutual favorite was Yuletide with Samhain as a close second. then when they learned they shared a birthday June 13th became a joint birthday celebration from then on.

when Robin's grandma died in hospice their final year at community college, Steve was the person she leaned on. she moved in with him, unable to enter the apartment without being overcome with paralyzing grief but determined to keep the bookstore going. when her insensitive beta mother came to town for the funeral Steve stood by her, helped her keep her ground against her mother's attempts to take control of the business and building left to Robin in the will. Robin's alpha father ended up being the one to silence Beatrice Buckley nee Smith by laying it out that Robin had legally inherited the building including the store as well as the majority of the contents of the apartment, that Robin might be young, but she had a good head on her shoulders. that they had no right to demand anything of her after how they'd reacted to her transition. George Buckley didn't chase after his wife when she stormed out, he apologized to his daughter for the way he shut down when she came out to them, he watched as his wife drove off back to their hotel, and after asking to rebuild their relationship he confessed he was going to serve Beatrice divorce papers. Robin cried as she hugged her dad, sobbed harder when he told her how beautiful self-love looked on her.

Wayne came by after the funeral, joined the three of them for dinner. he and George shared stories from high school. Wayne told Robin stories about the many times her grandparents had taken one look at him, a kid with two working parents, a kid who'd been charged with caring for his rambunctious rebellious little brother, and they'd given him books for half the price they were worth.

George Buckley moved back to Hawkins following the divorce. back into the apartment he'd grown up in, he worked in the store as assistant manager, he joined their Sunday dinners, and he made efforts to implement the vision Robin had of the bookstore being a safe space.

then one day while Steve was perusing the shelves of the bookstore even though it was his day off from the store. he looked out the store windows at the sound of Wayne's truck pulling up to the bank across the street. when he saw Wayne fall he let out a yell, and while Robin called for an ambulance he was running across the main street to sit with Wayne till the ambulance arrived. at the hospital he listened carefully to everything the doctor said about caring for the concussion Wayne had ended up with. Robin helped him take Wayne home to his tree farm filled with fir trees, the majority being douglas fir.

the day after he'd been home for a full day Wayne called to let Steve know his nephew had come to stay with him. Steve laughed when Wayne relayed the message to make sure he made enough for four for dinner that night.

Steve drove Robin and him to Wayne's after they locked up the bookstore for the night. George had to give their inventory orders a final review so he'd declined to join them. they pulled up, and Steve noticed the shiny red car that was left running with the driver's door open. as he cradled the ancient dutch oven in his hands, Robin turned the car, and shut the door. before they went inside Steve made a come hither motion with his hand at the car thinking how nice it'd be for the nephew's many bags to b unloaded.

upon entering Steve spared not a single glance for the nephew standing to greet them, determined to begin cooking because they'd stayed later at the bookstore than usual. he pulled off his scarf and coat. then pulled the canvas bags of ingredients out of the dutch oven. he heard Robin starting a conversation with Wayne. Steve was unpacking the ingredients when suddenly the smell of cedar and tobacco filled his nose. he looked up from pulling out the bread he'd made to go with the pumpkin soup he had planned, and standing in the doorway was Wayne's nephew.

Steve knew, he knew as soon as his nose had registered cedar and tobacco. Grandpa Peter told him that all witches would have one great love in their lifetime. Steve always assumed his platonic love for Robin was his, but he knew then he'd been wrong.

because as soon as the nephew introduced himself as Eddie Munson, Steve knew that this alpha was the man who would either cherish his heart or break it.

---

@lexirosewrites this is part 2 that i've written special for slick sunday this month. it was a wonderful distraction from, well, Everything TM. I'm thinking i'll keep adding to this every month on slick sunday till i feel this little ficlet series has reached a satifying conclusion. i think i'll even open myself up to creating a tag list for this series, spaces will b limited as my adhd can only handle so many details at once.

@manda-panda-monium @awkwardgravity1

yall get to b the first two of this tag list. write in the replies if you'd like me to tag you when i post part 3 next month. i will let the tag list get to 20 accounts & no more

don't let despair rule your life, going forward we have a lot of work to do, and we need a means to recharge as we fight to maintain our freedoms. idk what the future of fic in this country will b if project 2025 gets to censor queer media by banning ao3, but if it comes to it we can do as the fans before us did: mailing lists, zines, and more now that we have the internet.

[mothandpidgeon]

Nine Lives (witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader) - Part 2

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader

rating: T (evenual E) MDNI

summary: As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized he feelings for you were more than just affection. The only problem? He's a 300 year old crused witch. Oh, and he's a cat.

contents: age gap (like 300 years), alcohol, jealousy, angst, slow burn, yearning, probably anachronistic witchy stuff, love triangle (quadrangle?), Ezra is a cat, he won't be forever, this isnt a beastiality thing, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 3.4k

a/n: Thank you to everyone that read part 1!! I'm so pleased that you're enjoying it so far! I really would've liked to let this part simmer a little longer but I'm holding myself to this publishing schedule. It's time to yeet this into the world. I'd love to know what you think. Your comments and reblogs give me so much joy!

Thank you @lowlights for the beta and help with witchy stuff. Thank you @moonlitbirdie @schnarfer and @whocaresstillthelouvre for listening to me bitch about this and supporting me always.

“Don’t you look nice,” Aunt Margot says. 

You’re putting the finishing touches on your make up in the Page’s office. Usually you’d go back upstairs but you don’t feel like hearing it from Ezra.  

“Thanks. I have a date,” you say, packing your mascara in your purse. 

“Oh,” she replies, not hiding her disappointment in the slightest. 

You hadn’t intended to see Connor again but when he texted you, you couldn’t think of a good reason not to. He invited you to his place to check out his vinyl collection which sounds like an insufferable version of Netflix and Chill but you have no plans to listen to a single record. You just want to fuck in his bed and avoid any drama with Ezra. 

“Well I hope you’ll put as much effort in for the equinox,” she says. She flips the sign in the door from open to closed then snaps her fingers to turn off the overhead lights. 

You and Margot host the coven for the equinox each year which already means extra preparations in addition to work at the bookshop. 

“Why would I do that?” you ask. You don’t wear make up for moon rituals, don’t wear much of anything at all. 

“Esme is bringing River,” she says with a casual shrug. 

“No” you groan. 

“He’s visiting from Ireland,” she tells you. 

The last time you saw Esme’s grandson you were both in high school. River was built like a string bean, his upper lip dusted with the saddest mustache— if you could even call it that. He reeked of some badly brewed potion that was supposed to attract lovers. You still gagged when you smelled licorice root. 

“Good for him,” you say. “Please do not set me up with River.”

“I’m not a matchmaker, dear. I’m just trying to expand your sexual horizons,” Margot replies. 

Suddenly, Connor’s vinyls don’t sound so bad after all. 

—

Ezra pads through crystals and altar bells. Everything’s been laid out on Aunt Margot’s paisley scarves— scrying bowls and athame blades and jars of rain water all waiting to be charged by the moon of the autumn equinox. 

It’s just after midnight and the witches of your coven are gathered in a small clearing far enough into the woods that stray mortals won’t stumble upon them. The air smells fresh and cold like mountain spring water. A bonfire crackles, layered with herbs and pine needles. 

The waning moon feels heavy and close like it might just fall out of the sky and nick Ezra’s ear. It makes him feel uneasy. Then again, it’s hard to enjoy these rituals when he can’t participate the way he once did. 

Ezra watches you offer mulled wine to Esme and River, steaming cups scented with cinnamon balanced on an antique silver tray. You look beautiful in your simple white dress. It glows in the moonlight and he can see your body silhouetted beneath the fabric of its long skirt by the fire. 

He’s never cared much for Esme but, then again, he doesn’t have many kind words for any of the Elders even if the ones that cursed him are long dead. Even if he deserved that curse. She wears her long hair coiled on top of her head, a jade hair pin perched in its nest the same way her familiar, a tired old owl, watches from the branch of one of the trees. 

Ezra’s attention isn’t with Esme tonight. He’s keeping a close eye on her grandson. 

“He totally sucks. Please don’t leave me alone with him,” you’d implored. 

Ezra would be wary of him whether or not you’d asked. River is nothing like how you’ve remembered him to Ezra. He must’ve done a lot of growing up since your last encounter. Tall and lean with thick waves of auburn hair. He’s the kind of witch that even Ezra would have taken to bed when he was human. 

He sees the way River looks at you, watches him turn the charm on as he smiles. River’s eyes travel down your body and Ezra knows exactly what he sees. Waves of hot jealousy consume Ezra from nose to tail. For a moment, he worries he’ll get another thousand years added on to his sentence. 

After some small talk, Esme wanders away and that's Ezra’s cue. He slinks up between you and River, rubbing up against your legs to let you know he’s ready to bail you out. 

River swallows his drink with a chuckle. 

“That tastes just how I remember it. Me and Moss used to sneak glasses of Ariadne’s mulled wine when we were thirteen,” he explains. 

“Me too. Although I’m pretty sure Margot knew,” you say with a laugh. 

“Little mage, you asked me to fetch you when the oils were ready,” Ezra says. 

“Oh,” you say, throwing a self conscious smile at River. “I’ll go in a minute, Ez.”

“Margot could use your assistance,” Ezra adds. 

“Why don’t you go help her and I’ll be there soon,” you suggest.

Ezra can’t help but glare up at River. 

“Would that I had opposable thumbs,” he responds. 

You laugh. River doesn’t. You crouch down and glide your hand down Ezra’s spine.

“It’s okay, Ez. I’m good,” you tell him and you wink at him.

His blood turns molten as you turn back to River and continue your conversation. He wants to hiss and claw at him, draw blood. It feels like you’re slipping through his fingers not that he ever held a claim. Not that he even has fingers anymore. He’s completely powerless, standing at your feet like the dumb animal he is.

Rather than watch you moony over River, Ezra turns away and slinks off to the edge of the gathering to sulk. The fire’s warmth doesn’t quite reach and he presses back his ears to stave off autumn’s chill. He can’t run off into the woods the way he’d like to, not without raising questions from the other witches, make you look like you can’t control your familiar.

He can’t stop his eyes from wandering back to you. Your head thrown back in laughter, your hand on River’s forearm. Each moment of your joy is like a knife in his heart.

Ezra’s eventually relegated to the circle where the familiars commiserate. River’s is a jet black bird named Rhea who turns her beak up at him. He’s not one of them, not really. He was human himself with a familiar of his own but that’s not the only reason why they scorn him. They all know that he’s the worst kind of witch. 

There are many reasons why a witch might be turned into a cat but there’s only one crime that was punished with 1000 years— murder. And not just any murder. Ezra desecrated the life of another witch and, no matter how loyally he serves you, he’ll always have that stain. 

The rituals are done, the chanting. The embers from the fire float up through the trees towards the fat moon. Then the dancing begins. It’s erratic and joyful, Ezra can remember the ecstasy of it in his bones. Esme lets down her white hair and one by one the witches disrobe. 

He hears your laughter as you spin, shoulders shrugging with the pulse of the magic that swirls around the bonfire. 

He knows he shouldn’t look at you like that. Not you. Not here. You’re not putting on a show, you’re doing your magic. But the way your body moves against the glow of the fire is its own enchantment. He could worship you like the moon. 

The spell is broken just as quickly. River’s right beside you, bare skin radiant, muscles rippling with his own rhythm. His fingers tangle with yours and Ezra feels acid in his throat. 

The whole night becomes an assault on his senses. The sound of chanting rises, the old words frantic and savage. Amber and patchouli mix with the woodsmoke to choke him. Grotesque shadows fall over the faces of the witches like a carnival of horrors. And then there’s you— incandescent and naked and whispering something in River’s ear that has him grinning. Ezra’s hair stands on end.

“Come dance with me!” you giggle as you leave the circle of merriment. Your teeth are stained purple, drunk on wine and magic. 

“I’m quite content here,” Ezra lies. 

“Are you having fun?” You ask but you don’t wait for his answer. “River is…wow. He did not look like that when we were kids.”

You pick Ezra up and whirl around in a circle. He smells the incense of your skin, the alcohol on your breath. 

“You’re going to get your wish. I’m finally going to fuck a proper witch!” you say. 

You toss Ezra in the air and catch him. The bile has come so far up his throat it’s an absolutely nauseating sensation. 

“Enough!” Ezra hisses. He swats at you with his claws bared. 

You yelp and drop him. Before he even hits the ground, he feels it— a searing hot pain that makes his back arch. You’re defending yourself with your powers like a reflex. He lets out a yowl and just as quickly it passes.

Ezra staggers and looks up to find you with tears in your eyes. He’s never seen you looking so hurt, betrayed. Your jaw quivers. Ezra landed on his feet but he feels upside down. He’s realizing what he’s just done, that he tried to hurt you because he’s pathetic. Jealous. 

“Ez,” you say, your voice strangled. 

Like a coward, he takes off, ignoring you as you call after him. 

—

It’s the sound of the cat flap that wakes you sometime after sunrise. You’re sprawled out on your bed, head aching, eyes swollen. You’re still wearing your white dress, you threw it on before going after Ezra but it was no use. He was as black as the shadows in the forest and had slipped away under some bushes.

You abandoned the equinox celebration and went home in hopes he’d be there. You waited. Alone with your guilt and anxiety. 

I’m sorry. Please come home. You were never very good at telepathy but you tried to reach out to him with your thoughts. 

The sound that he made echoed through your mind as you paced the floor. Strangled, terrified. You tried to stop yourself from picturing him out there in the dark shaking with pain. 

You hadn’t meant to hurt him. It was involuntary. As soon as his claw grazed your skin, your powers flared. Maybe if you hadn’t been drunk you could’ve controlled it. It happened so quickly you still can’t be sure of how strong it hit him. 

Even if it was just a momentary shock, you saw just how much damage that moment did. His hair standing on end, his tail rod straight. But what really crushed you was the look in his eye. 

Suddenly you were just as horrible as every other witch that he’d served. You’d used your powers to punish him, to harm him. Every promise you’d ever made to him had broken in that instant. 

You see Ezra’s slim form dart to your doorway. In a flash, he slips under the bed and your heart sinks into your ankles. 

“Ez,” you say, your voice ragged from the night’s festivities. 

He doesn’t answer. You press your eyes shut and swallow hard then crawl to the edge of your mattress. Your stomach lurches as you look over the edge. On top of everything else there’s a hangover churning in your gut. You guess you deserve that, too. 

“Ezra, are you ok?” you ask. Whatever words of atonement you pieced together before you cried yourself to sleep have dissolved. 

He’s in the furthest corner beneath the bed, tucked against the wall with his tail wrapped tight around his body. You think you might burst into tears again seeing him cowering away from you. 

“I hope I didn’t make you fret,” he says. 

You want to scoop him into your arms and hold him as tight as you can but it feels like you’ve lost that privilege. 

“I’m so sorry, Ez,” you say, climbing down to the floor. “I shouldn’t have done that. I'm sick over it.”

“You were well within your rights. You’re my master and I struck you,” he says. “I’m the one that should beg forgiveness.”

To hear him call you his master makes you feel even worse than before. There’s no amount of tuna belly that will make this right.

“No. It was my fault. And I promise I’ll never use my powers on you again. Ever,” you say. 

His gold eyes shift away. 

“Keep your apologies,” he says. “And I see I’ve kept you from your new paramour. Another act to add to my contrition.” 

“I don’t care about that.” If you hadn’t been so caught up in the prospect of taking River to bed, none of this would’ve happened. 

“Nonsense, little mage. You’re a witch. Be with other witches,” Ezra says.  

–

River’s in the bookshop when you arrive, standing opposite Aunt Margot. When you couldn’t convince Ezra to come out from under the bed, you decided to give him space. Maybe you could distract yourself re-alphabetizing the cookbooks. You were hoping for some quiet but you’re confronted by the very attractive witch you’d been flirting shamelessly with the night before.

You know you look a mess, your face still feels puffy. River, on the other hand, looks like the definition of a sight for sore eyes. Freshly showered and dressed in a well pressed shirt that’s rolled up to the elbows, the sun is streaming in the front window outlining his still-damp hair like he’s Prince Charming himself.

“There you are!” Margot calls. 

You smooth your hand across your top nervously as she appraises you. You threw on a more than slightly wrinkled shirt that was languishing on the floor of your bedroom, too preoccupied to put together a real outfit.

“Looks like we had too much of Ariadne’s little potion,” she says. 

“I have a tonic that’s great for that,” River says with a smile. “But coffee’s faster.” 

He hands you a steaming paper cup from the cafe down the street. He and Margot have their own perched on the counter. You take a sip and are surprised to find that it’s your regular order.

”Are you clairvoyant, too?” You ask.

River blushes. “Nah. Margot told me how you take your coffee,” he chuckles.

It's so thoughtful and you’re not feeling very deserving. You swallow down a lump in your throat.

“I wanted to go foraging around here but I really need a local,” he says. 

“That sounds fun,” you say half heartedly in an attempt to demure. You’re not really up for a good time but it feels like a real asshole move to turn River down considering he brought you coffee after you ditched him at the bonfire. Margot is beaming at the register.

“Doesn’t it?” she asks. “Why don’t I get you a basket?”

—

River carries the basket now overflowing with mushrooms and wild herbs. You’re deep in the woods, branches crunching beneath your shoes. Nature’s sounds echo around you, starlings and chipmunks, the constant whoosh of the breeze through the turning leaves. 

This path is overgrown but you know it well. You spent your childhood getting lost in these woods. They have their own magic. 

Your guilt overshadows the date. If it is a date. River seems to think it is if the way the back of his hand keeps brushing against yours is any sign. It’s hard to enjoy it especially when your mind keeps drifting off. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re only half-listening as he tells you just how mystical the vibes are at Stonehenge. 

You stop at a stream, sitting on a fallen tree that’s overgrown with moss. It’s one of your favorite spots. The water sparkles where the sunlight spills though the branches, peacefully trickling over rocks. You pick up one of the smooth stones and trace its wet surface with your thumb. 

You’ve sat in this very spot before feeling just as shitty. Heartbroken then, too, trying to figure out if you could call it a break up when you hadn’t actually been anything official. She hadn’t wanted anything complicated and you swore your feelings wouldn’t get involved. Unfortunately they had their own plans.

Ezra found you there, sulking by the stream, wondering if anyone would think you were worth breaking their own rules for. 

It struck you how quiet he was. There were no anecdotes about what the witch scene was like in 1924 or tips for mouse hunting, indoor versus outdoor. He just padded into the water and nudged a little stone towards your feet. It was just big enough to fit in your palm and it was cool against your skin as you held it there. 

“A thing of beauty,” he said and he head butted your shins affectionately. 

It was. Round from years, maybe decades under the water’s friction. A dull gray cut through the middle by a wedge of some crystalline mineral like shards of broken glass. You recall exactly what it looks like because it still sits on your night stand. Each time you see it you’re reminded of how Ezra slumped down beside you, his warm body weight like a cozy blanket, a faint purr reverberating through him. 

“You’ve got a big heart, little mage,” he said. 

You choke up at the memory, unsure if Ezra would ever think that again. You certainly wouldn’t say it about yourself today. 

“Either you’re really hungover or something’s bothering you,” River says gently. 

You laugh tearfully and he rubs a circle on your back. You try to shake your head but River doesn’t give it up, looking at you with a soft concern.

“I really fucked things up with Ezra last night,” you admit. Telling him what a cruel witch you are might be a huge turn off but the feeling of his palm through your shirt makes you feel at ease.

“Ezra?” he asks.

“My familiar,” you remind him.

“Oh.”

“He scratched me and —”

“He hurt you?” he asks, face painted with righteous indignation. 

“No. He barely got me. I totally overreacted,” you say. “I used my powers on him. It was just a reflex, you know? But…I just feel awful.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” he tells you with a relieved chuckle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

If that’s true then why do you hate yourself?

“If Rhea was out of line I’d do the same,” he goes on.

You wince at the thought.

“You’d hurt her?” you ask.

He shrugs. “I’ve never had to. She knows who’s boss.”

You’ve always considered Ezra a partner. Of course, there are plenty of witches that think of their familiars as nothing more than servants. It’s an old school way of seeing it. You hadn’t expected River to use words that remind you of the way your grandmother used to talk.

“Maybe it’s different,” you say, trying to give him the opportunity to walk it back. Ezra’s not like Rhea. Maybe you’d feel the same way River does if your familiar hadn’t once been as human as you are. Still, it doesn’t feel right.

“You’re a funny little witch,” he says with a grin.

“What does that mean?” you ask. 

“Crying over your familiar. It’s sweet.” He says it as if it’s a compliment but the condescension makes you frown in disgust.

“If you want to make it up to him, why don’t you find him a lady cat that can make him feel good,” he adds with a laugh.

“Is that what you’re into?” you ask with venom.

“What? That was a joke,” River says.

“I don’t think it’s funny. You know, just because Ezra’s a familiar, it doesn’t mean he should be treated like shit. And he’s not a cat. He’s a human,” you tell him.

“He’s a witch killer,” River spits back. “So I’m sorry if I don’t have a lot of sympathy for him.”

Your stomach turns. It’s the truth. Ezra’s served as a familiar in your family for centuries, his history has never been hidden from you and he’s never shied away from it.

But his punishment has never made sense to you. A thousand years, so many lifetimes, watching his friends and family die as he toiled in servitude for witches as backwards as River. It’s cruel, that’s why the Elders changed the laws years ago. And yet Ezra’s remained a cat, a familiar, disdained. 

Suddenly, the anger you’ve been tormenting yourself with turns outwards and you think your powers could set fire to the dry leaves at your feet. It’s all so unfair. The Elders turned him and witches like River scorn him and none of them feel a lick of shame. The back of your neck heats with a protective rage.

“He’s my friend,” you choke. “And you’re a fucking asshole.”

And you leave River speechless in the middle of the woods.  

🐈‍⬛

Part 3

Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs appreciated! My inbox is always open.

[dearstvckyx]

Flufftober | 10.14 |

Home Decor - Oscar Piastri

You and your high school sweetheart Oscar Piastri walked into the local home décor store, and the warm glow of autumn lights immediately sets the mood. The aisles are filled with everything from spooky Halloween skeletons to cozy fall wreaths. Oscar, looking casual in a McLaren hoodie and jeans, eyes the shelves with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“Alright,” you say with a grin, “we need to find the perfect fall décor. None of that basic pumpkin spice stuff though. We’re going for style.”

Oscar nods seriously, but there’s a playful glint in his eye. “Right. So, no pumpkin-scented candles?”

You chuckle. “Well… maybe one.”

You grab a cart and begin wandering down the aisles. The first thing that catches Oscar’s eye is a giant inflatable ghost. He immediately lights up. “Can we get this?”

You laugh. “Where would we even put that? It’s huge!”

“I’ll find a spot. Maybe outside, near the entrance, to give everyone a proper scare.”

You shake your head but throw it in the cart anyway. “Alright, you win this one.”

Moving on, you spot a shelf filled with little decorative pumpkins. Oscar picks one up, examines it like he’s inspecting his F1 car before a race, and turns to you. “What do you think? Too basic?”

“It’s classic fall. We need at least one pumpkin. Balance out your ridiculous ghost.”

Oscar smirks. “Fine. But I’m in charge of picking the spooky stuff.”

The two of you continue down the aisle, Oscar grabbing a set of glow-in-the-dark skeleton hands while you pick out some fairy lights with little autumn leaves. You catch him looking at a cute black cat figure, and he tries to play it cool.

“You like it?” you tease.

He shrugs, pretending to be indifferent. “It’s alright, I guess.”

You toss it in the cart. “It’s coming home with us.”

Finally, you end up at the candle section. The smell of cinnamon, apple cider, and pumpkin spice fills the air. Oscar wrinkles his nose at one overly sweet-scented candle.

“No way,” he says, setting it back down. “That’s too much.”

You grab a more subtle apple cinnamon candle and wave it under his nose. “Better?”

He nods, satisfied. “That one can stay.”

As you make your way to the checkout, the cart is filled with a mix of spooky and cozy – a perfect blend of your personalities. You glance at Oscar, and he gives you a playful grin.

“This is going to be the best-decorated place ever,” he says confidently.

You laugh. “Yeah, thanks to my pumpkins and your ridiculous inflatable ghost.”

Oscar leans in, pretending to whisper. “The ghost is going to be the star, admit it.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile. “Maybe.”

As you both head out of the store, Oscar grabs your hand, swinging it lightly. “I think we nailed it,” he says, looking at the cart full of fall magic.

“Definitely,” you agree, already imagining the cozy, spooky vibes waiting for you at home.

[kezzanza]

DON'T STOP CAUSE I'M HALFWAY THERE.

Pairing: Jude x Girlfriend ! Reader Tags: First Time, Established Relationship Word Count: 4.6k Content Warning: Smut, 18+ It's a cold autumn night when you and Jude take your relationship to the next level.

It's September, and late nights in Dortmund are cold, but the living room you're in feels like a warm sanctuary.

Jude's warmth wraps around you as you rest your head on his shoulder. Your legs lie comfortably on the couch, tucked beneath a blanket that offers a warm refuge from the chill. One of his arms cradles you gently. Being inside his embrace makes you feel perfectly at ease.

The flickering images of the opening credits dance across the TV, casting a soft light throughout the room. This moment feels deeply intimate and romantic. It's as if the world outside has faded into insignificance. Leaving only the calmness of the evening you and Jude are sharing.

With your parents out of town, the house is yours for the weekend. They trust you to be responsible, knowing you've never been a troublemaker. As you glance at the time on the clock above the TV, you start to wonder if their trust was misplaced. It's late and you really shouldn't be home alone with your boyfriend. Yet, as you steal a glance at Jude, you can't help but feel that there's nowhere else either of you should be but right here.

Everything about tonight—watching a movie and spending time with Jude—feels like a balm for your soul after an exhausting week at university.

Jude's handsome face glows softly in the light of the screen. You imagine tracing your fingers gently across his perfect features, feeling the contours of his face beneath your touch.

He's dressed in cozy gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. It's a stark contrast to the football kit you're used to seeing him in. You realize how much you've missed seeing him like this—comfortable and at ease.

There's something heartwarming about seeing him in these simple clothes. It makes the evening feel even more special. Tonight, for both of you, is a needed break from the hectic pace of life.

The movie begins with a busy city street, alive with the morning buzz. The camera zooms in on a charming coffee shop. The barista makes cappuccinos and lattes with pretty patterns on top. The protagonist, a cheerful dreamer, bursts into the café with her enthusiasm lighting up the room.

You know this movie so well that you could recite the lines in your sleep. It's your favorite—a cheesy romantic comedy from the 2000s that has been your comfort during life's overwhelming moments. For you, this film isn't just a story; it's a cherished ritual.

It's even more special because Jude is here, watching your comfort film with you. Your heart swells with affection over the little things—the way you both laugh over silly dialogue, how he playfully rolls his eyes at the more ridiculous scenes, and the intensity with which he focuses on the more serious moments.

The scene on the TV grows more heated, showing the couple entwined on a bed. Their passion is evident in the way their hands move across each other's bodies. A surge of emotion stirs within you at the scene. You find yourself yearning to kiss Jude with an intensity you can hardly ignore.

You steal a quick glance at him, and as if sensing your gaze, he turns toward you. With a knowing smile, Jude sets the popcorn on the side table. His fingers trace delicate patterns on your upper arm, sending tingles through your skin. The space between you feels charged.

"I thought you wanted to watch the movie?" Jude asks, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Maybe later," you say, your eyes twinkling with a matching playfulness.

The film is your favorite, but it's clear your attention is elsewhere.

Jude leans in closer, his gaze never leaving yours. The silence grows more intense with each passing second. The air is thick with longing. You wanted his lips on yours more than anything else.

Jude's hand that is not wrapped around you reaches out and gently brushes a stray hair from your face. His eyes search yours for permission. When he finds it, he closes the distance between you.

The first kiss is a whisper. Soft and gentle, as if savoring each delicate moment of contact. As your lips respond, the kiss deepens, becoming more consuming. The initial sweetness gives way to a burning passion. Each movement of his lips showing his unspoken desire.

The sound of the film becomes a distant murmur, replaced by the rhythm of your racing heart. His hand glides from your shoulder to the small of your back, pulling you closer.

You'd made out with him before—in the locker room after his games, on the rooftop of his apartment under the moonlight—but never like this, in an empty house where it's just the two of you.

Every touch, every caress, feels like a promise of something more. But just as the kiss reaches its peak, Jude pulls back. You wonder for a fleeting moment if this is the end of the kiss, but you notice the remote in his hand. He pauses the movie, his eyes dark with lust. The movie, once the center of the evening's plan, is completely forgotten as he pulls you onto his lap.

The blanket slips from your legs, pooling softly on the floor. Without its shielding, your body is now fully exposed to him. The soft pink shorts you're wearing, with their delicate silk fabric, hug your hips snugly. Your white tank top clings to your body, the fabric molding to your curves.

Every movement feels intensified as you feel his body against yours. The warmth of his touch contrasts with the coolness of the room. You feel the solid strength of his body beneath you as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

His muscular thighs are firm and warm. The fabric of his sweatpants is soft against the bare skin of your legs. The thought that only a few millimeters of cloth separates his skin from yours makes your pulse quicken.

Jude's touch was gentle yet confident. His hands explore your body with a firmness that makes your pulse quicken. His eyes, once reflecting the soft glow of the screen, are now burning into yours. The arousal you've been trying to ignore all evening unleashes the second you look at him.

Grabbing the hem of your tank top, he pulls it over your head, leaving you in just a bra and your tiny shorts. He slides his hands up the smooth skin of your waist. His touch sends waves of heat through you, leaving you gasping for more.

"Jude, wait," you breathe, your voice a mix of desire and uncertainty as his fingers trace lazy circles on your hips.

The most you had done with Jude—and any other boyfriend for that matter—was make out. You didn't have a lot of experience and you didn't know if you were ready. Jude pauses, his hand hovering just above your skin, waiting for you to continue.

"What is it?" he whispers, his voice thick with longing, but also concern.

You bite your lip, trying to gather your thoughts. "I want you but ... I'm scared," you confess, your heart pounding in your chest.

His expression softens as he wraps his arm securely around your waist. "Baby, look at me," he says gently, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

You take a deep breath as his words settle around you like a warm embrace. "But I want to and ... I trust you," you whisper, feeling the tension ease from your body.

"We won't go all the way tonight, love," Jude murmurs, his voice a soothing caress. "But I want to make you feel good."

He smiles tenderly, his lips brushing against yours in a delicate kiss. The warmth of his touch, so tender and reassuring, melts away your fears.

In his gaze, you find an unspoken promise. With it, the trust you have in him soothes the worries within you. His arms tighten around your waist as he leans in. The kiss is fierce and hungry. Your heart races as his hands explore the curves of your body, sending shivers down your spine. You become lost in the intensity of the moment. Your fingers tangle in his soft, short, curly hair.

It feels wrong to be doing this in the house your parents entrusted to you. But you've both danced around the boundaries of your physical affection for too long. Tonight would be different, marking a turning point in your relationship.

In the heat of the moment, his thigh pressed between yours, brushing against your core through the thin fabric of your shorts. A jolt of electricity shot through you, making you moan into his mouth. He pulled back slightly, his eyes questioning, dark with a mix of curiosity and desire.

Jude's eyes flick down to where his thigh is pressing between your legs, then back up to your face. A knowing smile played at the corners of his lips. He shifted his thigh upwards. The pressure and pleasure increases and your breath hitches.

"You like that?" His voice was a whisper, a tease that sent a warm shiver down your spine.

The fabric of your panties grows wetter with your arousal, a silent confession to the heat building between you. You nodded, biting your lower lip, unsure how to proceed but unable to stop the wave of arousal that was building inside you.

"Touch me," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses you then, a slow kiss that speaks of all the passion and tenderness he had for you. His tongue tangles with yours, igniting a fire within you that burns hotter with each passing second.

As the kiss deepens, his hand moves from your waist to your bare thigh. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your shorts. You gasp into his mouth. Your body trembles with need as his fingers dance higher, inching closer to the heat between your legs.

"Jude," you moan, hips instinctively pressing towards his hand, begging for more.

"Are you sure, baby?" he asks. His voice is strained with the effort to hold back, but ensuring you were comfortable was more important to him. "Want me to make you feel good?"

"Please, Jude," you breathe, your voice filled with determination.

Jude lifts you off the couch effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as you let out a soft, surprised sound at suddenly being airborne. His strong arms encircle you, pulling you close to his chest. You feel his warmth seep through into your bare skin as he carries you out of the dark living room and into the well-lit hallway.

"Jude, what are you doing?" you say, looking up at him. Huffing out a laugh at his spontaneous actions.

"Taking you somewhere," he replies with a mischievous smile.

The stairs creak softly under his weight.

You feel the reassuring thud of his heartbeat, a steady tempo that calms your own racing heart. As he ascends the stairs, you find yourself relaxing into his embrace, your head resting against his shoulder. He pauses at the top, giving you a tender look before continuing down the hallway to your bedroom.

He enters and you're met with the darkness of your bedroom, the only light coming from the faint light of the hallway. Inside, Jude carefully lowers you on your plush mattress. The bed dips slightly under your weight and you sink into the soft, inviting comfort.

With a soft click, Jude switches on the bedside lamp. Its warm, golden light gently spills across the room, illuminating the space with an intimate glow.

He takes off his shirt, leaving his muscled torso on display, then kneels between your legs on the bed. Gently, he pushes your legs and brings them up to your chest. His touch is careful and affectionate. With brown eyes filled with affection, he looks at you and brushes your hair away from your face.

Jude leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips lingering for a moment as if to savor the connection. The soft light wraps around you both as you share this tender moment. In his presence, everything else fades away, leaving just the two of you, entwined in each other's embrace.

Jude's eyes never leave yours as he reaches for the hem of your shorts. His touch is tender as he begins to peel them away, revealing your bare skin to the cool night air. He drops the pink fabric to the floor and runs his fingers up and down your thigh. You watch as his gaze traces the path of his fingertips, his eyes dark with a mix of passion and admiration.

The sensation of his touch sends shivers down your spine. His hand lingers for a moment, as if memorizing the contours of your thigh before it travels up to rest on your waist. You hold your breath, unsure of what's to come, but knowing that with Jude, it will be nothing short of perfect.

Jude looked at you with eyes that seemed to hold the warmth of a thousand sunsets. His hands, gentle yet firm, reached around your back as he unhooked your bra with a touch so deft it was as if he had done it a hundred times before.

As he pulls the garment off you, the cool air whispers against your skin, leaving you feeling both exposed and incredibly alive. In his expression, you saw a mix of admiration and desire that made your heart flutter like a caged bird being set free.

He takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him. His gaze lingering on the soft mounds of your breasts. Then, Jude's palms meet the tender flesh. His thumbs circle the skin before gently taking your nipples between his forefingers and thumbs. He rolls them softly, watching as they respond to his touch, becoming taut and sensitive as a soft moan escapes your lips.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice low and husky, filled with sincerity and adoration.

The words hang in the air, a tangible weight that presses against your chest. You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of his breath.

Your voice is a soft whisper as you reply, "I need you, Jude." His name lingers on your lips, a silent invitation.

His brown eyes are filled with a hunger that mirrors your own. You hold his stare, letting him see the truth in your eyes. The air is thick with anticipation, and every beat of your heart feels like it's echoing through the room.

Jude's eyes darken with desire as he traces the waistband of your white panties—the only clothing left on you—with his fingertips. His fingers move over the soft fabric, stopping when they feel the dampness that has gathered between your thighs.

"You're so wet for me," he says possessively, making you moan.

He hooks his thumbs under the fabric and begins to slide them down your thighs. His gaze never leaves yours as the material glides over your skin. A soft, needy whine escapes your lips—you had never been this turned on in your life.

Your underwear is pulled off you, leaving you completely exposed to his gaze. Jude's eyes fixate on the prize that lay before him, caressing your most intimate parts with a hunger that was almost tangible. The heat of his stare is enough to make you quiver. Your legs part involuntarily, a little wider to give him a better view.

His hands glide up your thighs, petting the sensitive skin. Sliding up the smooth skin of your legs before hovering above your exposed flesh. You bite your lip with nervous excitement.

A smirk plays at the corner of his lips, the kind that makes your heart race and your breath hitch. His touch is feather-light, a whisper of a promise, as his fingers dance closer to the place where you crave him the most. The anticipation is exquisite, a sweet torture that has your body arching towards him, begging for more.

"Do you want me to touch you here?" he teases, sending shivers down your spine.

His gaze searches yours for permission. The question hangs in the air. Your eyes lock on his, you nod, a silent plea for the contact you both knew you needed.

"Say it, baby," he demands. "Tell me how much you want me to touch you."

With a quiver in your voice, you whisper, "I want it more than anything, Jude."

The admission seemed to charge the air around you, sparking a fire in Jude's eyes that sent an intense wave of heat through your body.

His hand hovers for a moment longer. The anticipation, a sweet agony that made your skin ache for his touch. Then, with a gentle yet firm pressure, his thumb grazes the sensitive spot of your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core.

You gasp softly as his gaze holds yours. His hand moves with purpose, sliding on the wet aching center of your core slowly. Your eyes flutter as you moan desperately. Your body arching in response to his touch.

You close your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you. It felt so good, so forbidden, yet you couldn't bring yourself to ask him to stop. Instead, you roll your hips, pressing yourself closer to his touch, silently begging for more.

"Jude," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the sound of your heavy breathing. "More."

His movements become more deliberate. Each stroke of his finger against your sensitive spot sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You moan softly. With your mind beginning to blur, you focus only on the feel of his touch, the warmth of his body against yours.

Jude lowers his head, capturing your lips once more in a possessive kiss. His free hand rests beside your head. Your hand grips his strong bicep for support. The pleasure is intense, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing moment.

His fingers, now slick with your arousal, move with renewed vigor against your clit. Each stroke is a symphony of pleasure, building upon the last, until your body tightens like a coil about to spring. Suddenly, the crescendo of sensation crashes over you. Your orgasm rolls through your body like a tidal wave.

Your back arches off the bed. Your grip on his arm tightens as the spasms of pleasure overtake you. Your eyes squeeze shut as the pulsations grow stronger. Your breaths come out in ragged gasps as your hips rock against his fingers.

A long shudder runs through you as you ride out the waves of pleasure, moaning his name into his mouth. You cling to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you try to catch your breath.

When you finally look up, his eyes are fixed on you, a mixture of awe and satisfaction reflected in their depths. You pant softly, still recovering from the intensity of the experience.

As the orgasm subsides, Jude's voice breaks through the haze of pleasure. "You're so beautiful when you cum." His words are a gentle caress, soothing your overstimulated senses.

And just when you think you can't possibly take any more, he starts to kiss you, his lips soft and tender as he tastes the salt of your skin. You kiss back, still too overwhelmed to speak. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pull his body closer to yours. His hips press into you as he lays on top of you. You feel his hardness against your thigh, a stark reminder of his own needs.

With the intensity of the moment still palpable in the air, you decide to take things to the next level. You roll the two of you over until Jude's back is on the bed. You sit up and straddle his thighs. With your eyes locked onto his, you grind your ass over the hard length in his sweatpants.

Jude's eyes become half-lidded as he takes in the sight of you. He lets out a low groan, his hands instinctively gripping your waist as you begin to move in a slow rhythm. His breath grows ragged, matching the tempo of your hips.

"You're so fucking good at that," he groans, his hands tightening around you. His eyes burn with a possessive hunger as he watches the sway of your body.

Your heart races as you realize the power you hold in this moment, the power to give him pleasure, to make him groan your name. Leaning forward, you kiss him again, this time with a newfound confidence.

Your breasts press against Jude's clothed chest. His hunger for you is palpable, and it fuels your actions. Your hand reaches down, gripping him through his sweatpants, squeezing gently, as he curses into your mouth. With the heat of his arousal between your fingers, you feel his pulse in your hand through his gray sweatpants. He feels huge even without seeing his erection.

Jude's eyes bore into yours with a fiery intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. With an eager hunger, you slide down Jude's body, your kisses trailing from his mouth to his chest to his happy trail. You lower yourself until your face is eye level with his hips. For a moment, you're not quite sure if you have the confidence to continue.

"Take it out, baby," he commands, sensing your trepidation.

The heat in the room seems to spike as you feel the weight of his words. Suspense is heavy in the air. Your heart races as you obey his instruction. A lustful eagerness building inside you with every passing second.

His eyes, full of demand, pierce into yours as you slowly pull down the waistband of his sweatpants and briefs. His erection springs free, thick and tall. The sight of it makes you ache with want. Jude's eyes never leave yours as you take him in your hand.

"Suck," he says, his voice low, leaving no room for hesitation.

Jude's dominant demeanor washes over you like a wave of heat. You feel a mix of arousal and submission as you follow his command. His hand lands gently on the back of your head, guiding you closer to his length.

You lean down, your lips brushing against the hot skin of his shaft. He curses as your mouth meets his erection. His grip in your hair tightens as you begin to kiss his tip softly, sending pin-pricks of pleasure and pain across your scalp.

His manhood grazes your lips and you part them eagerly, allowing him to slide in. His groans fill the room as you savor the taste of his arousal. Jude fills you completely, stretching your lips. He moans lowly, a sound that sends a thrill down your spine and tells you that you're doing exactly what he wants.

With a gentle suck, you begin to take him deeper, feeling the softness of his skin give way to the firmness beneath. It's wet, messy and also incredibly intimate. You can feel his heartbeat through his shaft, thumping in rhythm with your own. The wetness spreads, coating your lips and fingers, making everything slick.

He groans, his hand on the back of your head guiding you to take him deeper. You obey, working against your gag reflex. Your eyes water as you try to accommodate his huge length. It slides to the back of your throat and makes you gag before he pulls your head up. Your inexperience shows, but the passion in your eyes tells him you're eager to learn, eager to make him feel good.

You moan around him, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through his body. He tastes salty and slightly bitter, a taste that only fuels your desire to serve him. He whispers your name, a rough command that sends a shiver through your body. You respond by sucking harder.

His grip on your hair becomes more forceful. His groans grow louder, his breaths quicker, and you can feel his thighs tensing around your face.

You look up at him through teary eyes, watching the pleasure marked across his chiseled face. His hand guides your movements, setting a rhythm that you struggle to match. You're determined to make him feel good, even as your jaw starts to ache and your gag reflex flutters. Each time he hits the back of your throat, you fight the urge to pull away, focusing instead on the way his fingers tense in your hair.

"That's it," Jude murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "You're doing so good." The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, making you feel both vulnerable and powerful.

You can feel the tension coiling in his body as he nears climax. The thought of making him come sends a thrill through your own body. You want to do this for him. To show him that you're willing to explore these new, intimate territories together. You keep going, your eyes watering, your cheeks hollowed out, trying to ignore the way your throat burns.

His breathing grows ragged, his hips buck upward, and you know you're getting closer to what he wants.

You look up at him, eyes wide and questioning, seeking reassurance. He meets your gaze, a smoldering heat in his own eyes.

"Keep going," he commands, his grip in your hair tightening slightly.

You take him all the way in, your nose pressing against his pelvis. His breathing becomes ragged, his abs clenching with each deep thrust. The room is filled with the wet sounds of your mouth working his shaft as he hits the back of your throat.

And then, just when you think you can't handle anymore, he comes. You're unprepared for the hot rush of his release. But you keep going, eager to swallow every drop, to show him that you're willing to be everything he desires. It doesn't matter that the taste is foreign, a little salty, and a little bitter.

You watch him, your own heart still racing. Jude's eyes are closed, his chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths. He opens them to meet your gaze, and the love and adoration in his expression sends a warm rush through your body.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice hoarse from passion.

Your heart skips a beat, and you can't help but smile as he pulls you up to him to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips. The kiss is tender and lingering, filled with the promise of more moments like this to come.

You gently pull away from the kiss, your eyes lingering on him with a tender smile. "I love you, too," you whisper, your voice soft and filled with affection.

He pulls you into a warm embrace, your bodies tangled together on the bed. You feel his heartbeat slow to a steady rhythm against your chest, and you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

This was your first time performing oral sex, and from the sounds of it, you did pretty well. You snuggle closer to him, enjoying the feeling of his skin against yours, and let out a contented sigh as his arms tighten around you.

The room is filled with the scent of sex and love, and you realize that this is what you've been craving all along—this intimate connection that goes beyond words.

His hand rests on your back, stroking gently as you both drift into a peaceful silence. It's a moment of pure contentment, a moment that feels like it could last forever. 

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow, you can't help but think about how far you've come in your relationship. From shy glances and stolen kisses to this raw passion, you know that you've found something special with Jude. And still, there are many more experiences waiting for the two of you to explore.

[thehereticdiaries]

A (Not So) Meet Cute: Chapter Three

Chapter Summary: You're beginning to fall into a new routine with the members of Stray Kids. A phone call from the police stops you dead in your tracks.

Warnings: Descriptions of stalking, reader has a ton of anxiety (rightfully so), cops

Series Masterlist

A/N: will my MCs ever find peace? probably not.

When you woke up the next morning, you doubted that Seungmin would actually walk you to work. After all, why would he wake up early just to be your escort? You went through your routine as usual, making sure to double and triple check that your phone was charged and the charger was in your bag before heading out.

“Morning.” You jumped as you exited your apartment building. Holy shit, Seungmin was really waiting for you. He leaned against the back of a bench across from the entrance, eyebrow quirked in amusement. He wore a mask again today, but went without a hat.

“Oh my god, Seungmin, you didn’t have to get up early just to walk me to work.” You held your elbow in your hand, feeling guilty for burdening the idol. 

“I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to.” The corners of Seungmin’s eyes crinkled and he stood properly to brush his knuckles across your cheek. You gaped at him, suddenly feeling warm despite the cool autumn breeze. 

“Oh, um, okay. If you’re sure. The bus stop is this way.” You led the way to your usual stop, the bus arriving not long after you. The commute honestly wasn’t bad, yesterday had been a fluke. 

“I haven’t been on a public bus in years,” Seungmin mentioned as you found open seats. You raised your eyebrows.

“Really? I guess that makes sense, though. It’s safer for you to have a driver.” You could only assume that being on public transport had too much risk of being recognized.

“Technically, I’m not allowed to use buses.” 

“Are you going to get in trouble because of this?!” You scolded with a glare. Seungmin shrugged in response, completely unbothered with his little act of rebellion. You shook your head, turning back to your phone to scroll on Instagram for a bit. You angled your phone toward Seungmin when you noticed him looking over your shoulder. Fifteen minutes and four stops later, you stepped off the bus and made the final ten minute walk to the bookstore.

“I’ll be back later to walk you home,” Seungmin said as he held the door open for you.

“But-”

“No ‘buts’, see you later.” He nudged you into the store and went back the way you had come from. You were left baffled once again, but pushed it aside to focus on your shift.

Over the next week, every member of Stray Kids walked with you to and from work. Seungmin showed up the most out of everyone. It felt like overkill, but they wouldn’t accept any arguments from you. Today’s shift dragged on with how little there was to do. Everything was clean and stocked, there were hardly ten customers in the 3 hours since your shift started, and you’ve closed and reopened TikTok at least five times. The soft classical music playing over the store radio threatened to lull you to sleep. You were jolted out of your stupor by your phone buzzing on the counter.

“Hello?”

“Good afternoon, this is Officer Jeong. May I speak to Ms. Y/N L/N?” A serious-sounding man asked curtly.

“This is she.”

“Ah, hello Ms. L/N. I am calling on behalf of Detective Keng. She has some new information regarding your case and would like to call you today to discuss,” Officer Jeong explained. 

“Oh! Of course, I finish work at 3pm and should be home around 3:30,” you told the officer. He hummed, keys clicking swiftly in the background.

“That should work perfectly. Detective Keng will be finished with a meeting at 4pm, so she will be able to call shortly afterward.” You quickly wrote down the detective’s name and the time she’d be calling on a sticky note.

“Okay, thank you for letting me know, Officer.” You exchanged polite goodbyes and hung up. Cool, now that you were incredibly anxious, the next three hours of your shift should go by much more quickly.

You predicted correctly. After finishing the call with Officer Jeong, the afternoon flew by in a blur and soon enough Seungmin appeared to walk you home. You told him about the upcoming phone call and your subsequent anxiety while you sat on the bus.

“Do you want me to stay for the call?” Seungmin offered, albeit a little hesitantly.

“Honestly, that would be really nice. Are you sure, though? You sounded kinda nervous.”

“I’m sure. I just haven’t been in your apartment yet and I didn’t want to invite myself in, y’know?” He assured with a smile hidden behind his mask. Back at your apartment, Seungmin sat on your loveseat, watching you pace around your kitchen. He tried to get you to sit down and relax while you waited for the detective’s call, but you needed to do something to release your pent-up anxiety. Why didn’t Officer Jeong tell you if it was good news or bad news?! Finally, finally your phone rang. You rushed to sit next to Seungmin as you put the call on speaker.

“Hi, is this Y/N L/N?” A woman’s voice asked.

“Yes, I’m assuming this is Detective Keng?” 

“It is, I see Officer Jeong was able to talk to you earlier. I’ve been looking into Cho Siwoo, the man that harassed you, and I’ve found some information that may be disturbing to you,” Detective Keng stated. A pit of worry gnawed at your stomach.

“Before you continue, I have a friend with me. Is it okay if he listens to our conversation?” You were terrified of having to deal with this alone.

“That’s quite alright.” You sighed quietly in relief. “Now, Mr. Cho has been living with a friend for several months. We interviewed his friend, and searched the apartment. Ms. L/N, it appears that he has been following you far longer than we expected.”

“What?” An icy chill creeped its way into your bloodstream. Seungmin scooted slightly closer to you, resting a hand on your knee. 

“He has photos printed of you in a Ziploc bag amongst his other belongings. Some of these photos date back to April.” 

“Bu-but it’s October now,” you stammered. Seungmin tightened his grip on your knee, but you moved his hand to hold in your own. 

“I’m very sorry to tell you this, Ms. L/N, but he’s been watching for a very long time. There aren’t any photos of the inside of your apartment, nor any of you in compromising positions. But we’ve found that Mr. Cho has a reputation, and with that comes respect from others on the street.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” Seungmin interrupted. Detective Keng sighed tiredly, which only made you more nervous.

“It means that he has access to information. Ms. L/N, do you have somewhere you can stay for the time being? I’m afraid your apartment isn’t safe at the moment, not until we’re able to confirm who all of Mr. Cho’s associates are.” Panicked tears fell down your cheeks. You didn’t have anywhere else to go, all you had was this apartment. The closest family member to you was still at least three hours away. You couldn’t just leave.

“Yes, ma’am, she does,” Seungmin answered in your silence. You stared at him, wide-eyed, but he kept his gaze fixed on your phone. 

“Good. I’ll need the address. I would advise against walking anywhere alone for now. I promise you, I will make sure you and your home are safe again,” Detective Keng assured. The sharp edge to her voice confirmed her commitment. She gave you the number for her work phone, should you need anything, then ended the call. A sob wracked your body. Seungmin pulled you so you sat between his legs, both legs over one of his knees, and wrapped you tightly in his arms. You trembled violently in his hold.

“Why did you tell her I have somewhere to stay?! I hardly have friends in this city and my family is hours away, and I can’t afford–”

“Y/N,” Seungmin cut off your rambling, holding your face in his hands and forcing your eyes to meet his. “You’re staying with us.”

“What? No, Seungmin, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Good thing you’re not asking. I’m telling you, you can stay with us,” he insisted. 

“Have you even asked the others about this? Even if you say I can, what if they say no?” Seungmin rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone and starting a call on speaker.

“Hey, is everything alright? You’re normally back by now,” Chan answered after a few rings. 

“No, actually, a detective called Y/N about her case. That guy’s been stalking her for months, Chan. Her apartment isn’t safe.” You bit your lip, tears still streaming silently down your face. Seungmin guided your head to rest on his shoulder and exhaustion washed over you.

“Holy shit, are you serious?” You could hear the others shouting in the background. “Guys, please, I need you to be quiet. This is important.”

“I wish I was joking. The detective said she should stay somewhere else while they continue their investigation. Thing is, she doesn’t have any family close by.” He was baiting Chan and he only felt slightly guilty about it.

“She can stay with us,” the leader offered without hesitation. 

“That’s what I told her. You believe me now?” Seungmin directed the question at you. 

“Wait, am I on speaker? Y/N, I promise no one would have an issue with you staying here,” Chan confirmed. You hated that you were being such a burden to them. They have enough on their plate as-is. But you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Okay,” you whimpered in a voice so tiny, it squeezed at the hearts of both Chan and Seungmin.

“We’re gonna get some stuff packed for her, then head over. I’ll call for a car.” 

“Good, I’ll see you both soon.” Chan hummed in acknowledgement. “And Y/N? I know what you’re thinking. You are not a burden.” You inhaled sharply, digging yourself further into Seungmin’s neck. He ended the call after another hasty goodbye.

For the next few minutes, you sat in silence to stave off your impending panic attack. Seungmin's chest vibrated as he quietly hummed the melody to Stars and Raindrops. You repeated the grounding exercise that Jisung showed you several times in your head. Now, with your panic dampened down to a nagging anxiety, you were suddenly very aware of the position of Seungmin’s hands. With the thumb of his left hand, he rubbed soothing circles on the nape of your neck, and his right sat patiently on your thigh. 

“I’ll grab a suitcase,” you muttered, hoping your hair hid your reddened face as you moved to your room. Unfortunately for you, Seungmin was a very observant man. He smirked, but chose not to say anything. He offered to help you pack and you immediately refused. Your soul would have literally left your body if he accidentally caught a glimpse of your underwear. You rolled your suitcase and duffle bag into the living room once you finished, pausing to sling your bag across your shoulder.

“I called Dohyun, he should be here soon.” Seungmin stood and plucked your duffle bag from your hand. “Let’s get down to the garage.” The car pulled up right as you stepped out of the elevator. Dohyun tossed you a sympathetic smile after you slid into the backseat. Seungmin sat next to you and nodded to Dohyun, who promptly began the drive back to the dorm.

All of the Stray Kids members have seen your apartment, but this was the first time you’ve been to their dorm. Honestly? It was much cleaner than you anticipated, considering eight young men lived here. Actually, the furniture and decor were really stylish. Jisung and Chan were the only ones in the living room. The leader stood to help with your luggage but paused when he noticed your red, puffy eyes. 

“I’m so sorry this is happening to you.” Chan wrapped you in a firm, comforting hug. You gripped the back of his t-shirt to ground yourself and fight back a fresh onslaught of tears. “Is there anything you need right now?”

“I just really want to take a nap.” You reluctantly pulled back so he could guide you to the couch. You allowed Jisung to bring your head to lay on his lap. He carded his fingers through your hair and the tension slowly melted from your body. You vaguely felt a second pair of hands tuck a fluffy blanket around you before succumbing to sleep.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here

Series Taglist: Open, send an ask or comment to be added!

[pickingupmymercedes]

All these little things pt.2 - Lewis Hamilton

The other 9 snippets of fluff (as promised) - If you want here's the first batch - All these little things

Also there's 20 more fluffs just like these ones here - Ways to say I love you and Ways to say I love you pt. 2

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +3k

a/n: More fluffs, because we need it! Also, some of the prompts I used here were requests, so if you'd like a specific drabble do send them in and I'll put them in a potential new part?!

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Adventures

The crisp autumn air danced through Y/N's hair as she tossed a worn leather satchel into the back of Lewis's sleek car. A mischievous glint twinkled in her eyes as she turned to face him, holding a folded roadmap in her hand.

"Okay, champ" she declared, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Ready for an adventure?"

Lewis, not yet totally used to her spontaneous ideas, raised an eyebrow. " What kind of adventure?"

"The kind where you're in charge," Y/N announced, thrusting the map towards him. "Today, you're the navigator, and we're going wherever you point on this map."

Confusion flickered across Lewis's face. "No destination? You serious?"

"Absolutely serious," Y/N confirmed, her grin widening. "I drive, you tell where to. Consider it a chance to reconnect with your inner explorer."

Lewis chuckled, the challenge sparking a competitive glint in his eyes. "Alright. But don't blame me if we end up lost in the middle of nowhere."

With a playful swat at his arm, Y/N climbed into the driver’s seat. Lewis unfurled the map across his lap, his brow furrowing as he studied the intricate network of roads.

"Let's head for the mountains. Looks scenic." he announced, pointing at a winding route that snaked through a vibrant green patch on the map.

Lewis, tried to meticulously charted their course. Y/N, on the other hand, reveled in the unexpected detours – a charming roadside diner with a menu scribbled on a chalkboard, a hidden waterfall cascading down moss-covered rocks, a winding country road lined with vibrant yellow leaves.

They got lost, of course. Inevitably, they took a wrong turn, the map momentarily betraying them with its two-dimensional representation of a world full of surprises. But instead of frustration, a shared amusement filled the car. They stopped and asked for directions at a quaint gas station, the attendant drawing a squiggly line on their map with a permanent marker.

As the day wore on, he realized they weren't just exploring new places, they were rediscovering each other.

They talked about everything and nothing, their conversation flowing as effortlessly as the winding roads they traversed. Lewis, usually focused on the finish line, reveled in the simple joy of the journey. Y/N embraced the freedom of not knowing what lay ahead.

By the time the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the landscape, they found themselves at a secluded beach, the golden sand kissed by the retreating waves. They sat in comfortable silence on the hood of the car, watching the fiery hues paint the sky, a shared sense of accomplishment settling over them.

"So" Lewis finally spoke, his voice tinged with wonder, "lost or found?"

Y/N turned towards him, a smile gracing her lips. "A little bit of both," she replied. "We might not have known where we were going, but we definitely found something."

Lewis leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. The journey, with all its twists and turns, had been a reminder that sometimes, the most beautiful destinations were the ones discovered along the way.

Naptime Cuddles

The roar of the crowds had faded into a distant memory, replaced by the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the rhythmic rise and fall of Lewis' chest beside her. A street lamp illuminated the room in the late afternoon, painting dappled patterns across the plush white duvet. Y/n snuggled deeper into Lewis' embrace, the familiar scent of his bodywash a comforting balm.

The post-race adrenaline rush had finally subsided, leaving behind a pleasant exhaustion. The flight back from had been a blur of cramped airplane seats and fitful sleep. But in the quiet sanctuary of their home, true relaxation finally claimed her.

One of his arms was draped possessively across her waist, his fingers unconsciously tracing circles on the small of her back. The warmth of his body was a comforting weight against hers, a silent invitation to surrender to sleep.

Y/n shifted slightly, her head burrowing into the crook of his neck. A contented sigh escaped her lips, and she felt Lewis stir beside her.

"Still awake, love?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

Y/n hummed in response, nuzzling closer. The sound seemed to be all the answer Lewis needed. He wrapped his arm tighter around her, his breathing falling back into a steady rhythm.

Silence settled over the room once more, broken only by the soft sounds of their sleep. The weight of the trophy he'd secured earlier that day seemed insignificant compared to the quiet comfort of this moment. For Lewis, victory wasn't just about the checkered flag; it was about the moments of peace that followed, moments shared with those he loved, where he could simply be Lewis, and the world could wait.

As sleep finally claimed Y/n, a single thought drifted through her mind – this, the quiet intimacy of a shared nap after a hard-fought win, was a victory all its own.

Season Calendar

The crisp scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint aroma of toast as Y/N fumbled with the calendar sprawled across the kitchen island. Lewis, a gentle smile playing on his lips, watched her wrestle with colored pens and sticky notes.

"So, Australia's a definite yes" Y/N declared, highlighting the season opener in Melbourne with a flourish. "Suzuka, is my favorite" she added, etching a bright pink heart beside the Japanese Grand Prix. "Miami for the after-race parties."

Lewis chuckled. "Since when did you become a party animal?"

Y/N winked. "Don't underestimate the allure of a good poolside DJ after a long race weekend."

Their fingers brushed as she reached for a blue sticky note, marking their planned trip to New York just before Monaco. "Monaco it’s…well, it’s Monaco," she continued, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Maybe another European race before Silverstone?" Lewis suggested, tracing a finger across the calendar. "Spa or Monza?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment. "Hm… I’d say Monza. Oh, and Silverstone's too," she declared, scribbling her name beside the British Grand Prix. "Promise to your mom"

A grin spread across Lewis's face. "Right"

"Monza," she added after a thoughtful pause "because it's your first race in Italia, as a Ferrari driver."

Lewis's eyes softened. "It is."

She nodded, a mischievous glint returning soon after. "Singapore, too. Night race fix."

As she marked Interlagos in São Paulo with a heart even bigger than Suzuka's, a blush crept onto her cheeks as Lewis smiled at her antics. "It’s your second home race and that little beach vacation before Vegas is too tempting to resist."

Vegas, the season finale, received a quick tick with her name next to it.

"Abu Dhabi for the closing ceremony?" she mused, tapping the last race tentatively.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "You're practically attending the entire season, love" he teased with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Y/N looked up, feigning innocence. "Am I? It doesn't seem like that many."

Lewis laughed, shaking his head. "Babe, you've mapped out nearly the whole calendar”

"Well, someone has to support you, champion," she replied, a playful jab disguised by a loving smile. "Plus, there's the cultural immersion, the delicious food, the..."

"The endless supply of post-race champagne?" he finished her sentence, a knowing grin on his face.

Y/N winked. "There might be some of that too."

Tough Race

The air in the motorhome hung heavy, a stark contrast to the usual pre-race buzz. Lewis sat slumped on the plush couch, his helmet resting dejectedly on the coffee table. The screen of his phone displayed the stark reality – a disappointing qualifying position and a car that no one understood.

Y/N watched him from across the room, her heart heavy with empathy. She knew Lewis thrived on competition, on pushing himself to the limit. Seeing him so dispirited was a sight that tugged at her soul.

Placing her laptop aside, she walked over to him. Without a word, she sat beside him on the couch, her hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders. He flinched slightly at the touch, as if startled from his introspection.

"Tough day, huh?" she asked softly, her voice barely a whisper.

He sighed; the sound heavy with disappointment. "Yeah," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. "Just feels like everything's going wrong."

Y/N remained silent, allowing him to express his frustration without words. She knew that sometimes, the most comforting thing was a quiet presence, a silent acknowledgment of his struggle. After a moment, he lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. They held a vulnerability she rarely saw, a glimpse of the man beneath the champion's mask.

"Come here" she said gently, opening her arms for him to fall into. He leaned closer, his head resting on her chest. Instinctively, her fingers reached for his scalp, their gentle pressure working their way through his braids. It was a routine they'd developed over the years, a silent language of love and support.

As her fingers began a soothing massage, kneading away tension at the base of his skull, a soft sigh escaped Lewis's lips. His muscles, which had been coiled tight with frustration, started to relax under her touch.

"You have the talent, Lewis," she began, her voice barely louder than a whisper but filled with warmth "You have the dedication. This is just a bump in the road."

They sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the rhythmic hum of the motorhome and the gentle ministrations of her hands. Slowly, a spark of his usual fire began to return to his eyes.

"Next year can’t come soon enough" he finally murmured, his voice regaining its strength. "I’ll be the one in red waiting for you” her lips close to his ears, attesting to her loyalty to him.

Workouts

Sweat beaded on Y/N's forehead, blurring her vision slightly as she pounded the treadmill. The rhythmic thump of her feet echoed in the home gym, the only sound competing with the pulsing techno beat blasting through her headphones. She was lost in the zone, pushing herself further with each passing minute. Today's run was all about endurance, a long, slow burn to build her stamina.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She glanced over, momentarily breaking her focus, to see Lewis bent over a weight bench, curls glinting in the afternoon sun streaming through the window. He was shirtless, his muscles flexing with each controlled rep.

Y/N looked away, forcing her gaze back to the treadmill display. “Great”, she thought, cheeks burning. “Now you're distracted.” She tried to refocus on her breathing, on the rhythm of her run, but the image of Lewis, sculpted and confident, kept intruding on her thoughts.

A mischievous glint entered Lewis's eyes. He knew he had her attention, even if she wouldn't admit it. With a slow, deliberate movement, he placed the dumbbells down and reached for the hem of his workout shirt. A slow peel, a suggestive glance thrown in Y/N's direction, and the shirt landed discarded on the floor.

Y/N let out a groan of frustration, more with herself than anything else. This was supposed to be a focused workout, not a session in ogling her impossibly attractive boyfriend. She cranked up the volume on her headphones, willing herself to ignore the blatant display happening across the room.

But Lewis wasn't done yet. He sauntered closer to the treadmill, a playful grin on his face. "Need anything?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Y/N gritted her teeth, refusing to make eye contact. "Nope, all good here" she mumbled, her voice strained.

Lewis chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Alright, but if you do, I’ll be right here" he teased, leaning against the treadmill console, effectively blocking her view of the television and forcing her to acknowledge his presence.

Y/N glared at him, a flicker of amusement battling with her annoyance. "Seriously? I'm trying to work out here."

"And I'm trying to offer some motivation," he countered, his eyes twinkling. A small smile tugged at the corner of Y/N's lips. "Fine," she conceded, a playful challenge in her voice. "If you're so good at motivating, why don't you join me for a run?"

Lewis's grin widened. " Was just waiting for you to ask."

Grocery Shopping

Jet lag, like an unwelcome koala clinging to their luggage, had followed Y/N and Lewis all the way from Europe to Australia.

Yawns punctuated the silence as they stood in the brightly lit grocery store aisle, their usual meticulous list forgotten somewhere in their luggage.

"Alright," Lewis announced, rubbing his eyes "Essentials: Bread, milk, some fruit..."

Y/N's stomach rumbled loudly, betraying her fatigue. " chocolate… " she mumbled, grabbing the first bar her hand encountered, a garishly pink confection with a name that promised "explosive berry flavor".

Lewis chuckled. "Y/N, love. Maybe we prioritize some greens? " He reached for a bag of pre-washed salad mix.

"Fine." she conceded with a sigh, "But we're getting ice cream. My brain cells need a sugar rush."

He shook his head fondly, adding a carton of plant-based milk to the basket. "Alright, sugar monster."

Y/N scanned the shelves, her eyes landing on a display of colorful cocktail umbrellas. " Lewis" she said, her voice tinged with mischief "think these would look good on an Almave cocktail?"

Lewis raised an eyebrow as she shrugged, a playful smile on her lips. "Just planning ahead"

Alright" he conceded, tossing a pack of the umbrellas into the basket. " Healthy stuff now, babe. We need to get through the week"

Y/N groaned dramatically. "Ugh. Let me get some of those roasted chickpeas they have by the checkout, at least. They're practically healthy, right?"

Lewis laughed, pulling her close for a quick kiss as she reached for some sort of processed sugar. "Roasted chickpeas it is."

Weird dreams

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, painting golden stripes across the bedroom floor. Y/N stretched luxuriously, the remnants of a strange dream clinging to the edges of her consciousness.

"Lew" she mumbled, reaching for him on the other side of the bed. His side was cold, the sheets neatly pulled back. She sat up, a frown creasing her brow. "Lewis?" she called out a little louder.

He emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hip, a face cream in his hand. "Morning, love" he greeted with a sleepy smile.

"Good morning" Y/N replied, her voice laced with a hint of confusion. "You were gone?" She gestured to the empty space beside her.

He paused, a puzzled look replacing his smile. "Gone? I haven't left the bed all night."

"Oh" Y/N said, feeling a wave of disorientation. "Must have been the dream then."

Lewis raised an eyebrow. " What kind of dream?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment, the strangeness of it all making her smile. "Well," she began, "It was the weirdest thing. We were both at the factory, but you were giving a motivational speech... to a room full of chickens."

Lewis burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the room as he doubled over, wiping tears from his eyes.

Y/N couldn't help but join in his laughter, the absurdity of the dream washing away the lingering confusion. As they lay back down in bed, Lewis pulled her close, y/n laying her head on his chest.

"So," Lewis said, his voice tinged with amusement "what motivational speech did I give to the chickens?"

Y/N snuggled closer, a playful glint in her eyes. "Oh, you know, the usual," she said, her voice laced with laughter. "Conquer the coop, dream big, peck your way to the top."

Lewis chuckled, nuzzling his face into her hair. "Sounds like something I’d say"

Y/N swatted him playfully on the arm. "Hey, maybe even chickens need a little inspiration sometimes.” a smile playing on her lips and he squeezed her softly.

Sickness

A crumpled ball of tissues lay discarded beside Y/N on the couch, a relentless battle she'd been waging with a head cold all morning. Her throat felt like sandpaper, and her entire body ached with a dull misery. Across from her, Lewis, usually thinking of what to do next, sat slumped on the armchair, a mug of lukewarm tea clutched in his hand.

"Alright," Lewis declared, pushing himself up from the chair with a grimace, "I'm going to tackle those emails. You just relax on the couch some more."

Y/N croaked out a protest. "Lewis, you look like you could use the couch more than me. Those dark circle under your eyes look awful.

He swiped a hand across his forehead, a frown creasing his brow. "Nothing to worry, love. Probably just didn’t get enough sleep."

Y/N sighed, a weary smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Ever the workaholic, even a mild illness couldn't keep him from his commitments. "Alright" she conceded, her voice hoarse, "but promise me you'll rest too?”

He flashed a reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course, lovely." He retreated to his office, leaving Y/N alone with the sniffles and the blaring silence of the weekend they'd both been looking forward to.

She tried to sleep, to watch tv, to lose herself in a book, but her eyes burned in their sockets. Frustrated, she finally reached for the thermometer. The red mercury climbing far too high for comfort.

Panic clawed at her throat. Lewis couldn't be getting sick too, not with his packed schedule for the next two months. Steeling herself, she pushed off the couch and made her way to the office. Lewis sat hunched over his laptop, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Lew" she said softly, her voice thick with concern.

He looked up, startled. The feverish flush on his cheeks was undeniable now.

"What’s up babe?" he mumbled, his voice raspy

"You're burning up," she declared, placing a hand on his forehead. "We both are."

He let out a shaky sigh, finally acknowledging the truth. "This is the worst timing." he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Y/N hugged his shoulders from behind his desk chair, her heart softening at his dejection. "All we can do is focusing on getting better" she said gently.

Lewis turned to look at her, his eyes filled with a grateful vulnerability. "Yeah" he conceded, a tired smile gracing his lips. "Let’s go back to bed then, we're watching all the cheesy rom-coms we can handle.”

Y/N laughed a bit before suddenly turning her head to the side to sneeze, a chuckle coming from Lewis as he got up and embraced her. "Deal" she finally agreed.

Morning rituals

A faint sunlight danced playfully across the open space of the kitchen; Lewis’ heavy steps caught y/n attention as the aroma of brewing coffee gently invited him to greet the day. A soft groan escaped his lips as he stretched, muscles protesting.

"Rough night, champ?" A voice, laced with amusement, drifted in from the kitchen. Lewis cracked open an eye mid-stretch to see Y/n leaning against the island, a steaming mug in hand.

"Just a bit" he admitted, a smile tugging at his lips as he flopped down on the sofa "That car is giving me a real workout."

Y/n chuckled, padding across the room and placing the mug on the coffee table "Well, here’s some fuel." She leaned down, brushing a kiss across his forehead, the scent of her minty shampoo lingering in the air.

Lewis inhaled deeply, the familiar scent a welcome comfort. He reached out, his hand landing on hers. "You shouldn't have gotten up so early" he mumbled, squeezing her fingers gently.

"Nah" Y/n replied, settling onto his lap "Early mornings are my secret weapon. Peace and quiet before the world wakes up."

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "You mean to tell me Roscoe snoring and the fog outside are your weapons?"

Y/n laughed, caressing his beard. "It might not be perfect, but it’s mine."

A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the soft clinking of mugs against the table’s glass. Lewis took a sip of his coffee, savoring the warmth that spread through him.

"So," Y/n began, a thoughtful look on her face as she slid to the sofa and rested her head on his shoulders "what's on the agenda for today?"

Lewis set down his mug. "Just some online meetings with the engineers in the afternoon. We can have a lazy morning if you’re not busy" his hopeful tone hung in the air for a beat too long.

Y/n took a slow sip from her mug, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Actually," she said, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "I woke up feeling surprisingly productive. Maybe I'll finally tackle that mountain of emails I've been putting off." A flicker of disappointment crossed Lewis' face, until he realized what y/n had actually just said, quickly stamping a playful smirk and a light grab of her ass. "The hell you are."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[catchingdaydreams]

Modern day Mithrun Headcannons

Just some random ideas and perspective on how a modern au Mithrun would act/live and what not .

He would have his apartment spotless and minimalist as hell. Like everyone is to accommodate for one person. He doesn't really invite friends over but when he does their often confused about how theres just one of everything. A single chair, only one bowel and glass that he just uses ect, ect.

OR his room is just full of piles of trash bags and instant noodle cups because he can't be bothered to clean that shit up. The room is also bathed in darkness, curtains drawn down with the only source of light is through his TV and microwave clock.

He hates summer and winter. He gets sunburnt too often cause he can't be bothered to put sunscreen on. He doesn't like to cover up as an alternative as he justs overheats himself. In the Winter he would rather spend it hibernating if he could. The alternative is just becoming a blanket burrito and wait it out. He wears a lot of warm clothing too, often comedically too much, looking like a penguin on the way he waddles. This man will always get sick in winter.

His favorite season is autumn as it's the only season where it's not going to inconvenience him by either giving him sunburn, colds or hay fever.

He use to job hops quite a lot. Mostly working as chef at a local noodle shop that's near his apartment. Nothing wrong with the way he cooked, he just lacked most social skills which his blank tone and expressions upset both customers and other staff. He was a little stubborn but is a stickler for workplace hygiene and safety and would definitely tell people off for not doing something up to code. Even to the boss (instant way for getting fired).

Now he works at a high-end/fancy restaurant (probs has a michelin star ) wheres his nack for nick picking made him well respected for being precise.

Though he will not tell anyone where he works at. The Canaries will try to pester him (some *coff* *coff* Fleki and Lycion *coff* have tired staking but failed). He likes his privacy.

On days off he likes to be active and go hiking in the woods. He sometimes volunteers with the local nature parks for general upkeep and search and rescue.

But he doesn't do this alone. He WILL get lost. Kabur is a good hiking partner and also does volunteering. The Canaries are generally the go to personnel with supervising him. But he's generally in charge of operations which they bestowed him the nickname 'caption' to him.

He WILL get mistaken as an old man (yes he is technically old but I'm mean on deaths bed old). His white hair causes kids to point and look. He gets annoyed when a teenager asks him if he needs help crossing the street (especially if he's waddling like a penguin in Winter clothing). One time he was so annoyed by a kid calling him a grandma that he took out his prosthetic eye to make the kid cry.

Probs gets mistaken as a woman at times as well. He does have a feminine look about him. I imagine him coming home from a late shift and he gets catcalled by some bums. All he has to do is reply back in his low manly voice and they shut up . The times that they don't, Mithrun doesn't mind getting his hands dirty. He will throw the bums beaten and bruised bodies in the dumpster, it's where they belong of course.

Mithrun isn't a social butterfly. He likes to go to bed early then party and have a few drinks with his friends. Even when he does gets invited he'll hardly drink anything. He use to alot in his youth but his body isn't the same anymore and would just black out after a few drinks.

[kinardsevan]

30 day fluff prompt challenge: day three

"birthday"

It was supposed to be a surprise party. Evan had spent weeks planning it, ordering the supplies, and ensuring everyone in their group had off so that they would all attend. He hadn’t mentioned anything to Tommy about it because he’d wanted him to have this moment. He’d seen the way his boyfriend was around the other people in his life.

Granted, it wasn’t like Tommy ever spelled it out. Still, there was something about how Tommy felt about the outside world, that Evan knew matched inside him. It’s how he could see the little flicker in his boyfriend’s eyes every time Chim laid a hand on his shoulder before he told him a story, or when Eddie called Tommy instead of Buck to hang out. It was the flash of a microexpression every time Bobby invited Tommy to help out on a dish in the kitchen when they got invited over for dinner. 

So of course, when autumn arrived and Evan knew his boyfriend’s birthday was coming, he’d gone all out. He’d set everything in motion. Of course, the one thing he couldn’t plan for was the weather. Or, well, either of them being on call. 

They were coming up on the tail end of wildfire season, and while it had been relatively quiet since mid-September, there had been college kids partying in the Angeles National Forest. A week before Tommy’s birthday, a small brush fire became something bigger. Less than twenty-four hours later, fifteen acres of land had been eaten up. At that point, it became an all-stations alert, and instead of cycling through their typical shifts like they were supposed to, entire stations were barely taking off eight hours to rest and recuperate, more concerned for their hometown than the need to get back to their daily living. The 118 and Harbor were among those stations. 

He’d barely seen Tommy since the start of the fire. They were lucky to pass one another maybe once a day in the middle of their required breaks, if they managed to fall during the same periods of time. Still, even then, they were both too exhausted to do much more than sneak a quick hug and kiss in before heading back in to work. 

It was exhausting. As midnight approached towards Tommy’s birthday, Evan wasn’t sure how much he had left in him. He hadn’t been home since the second night of the fire, not wanting to take the extra time to travel. There were tents set up that stations would hunker down in to rest in shifts. They’d had a singular evening in the middle of that entire week where Tommy had snuck in and fallen asleep next to him two hours before the 118 had gotten back up and headed back in. They hadn’t had a real conversation in the midst of it all due to the circumstances. The most he got to hear out of Tommy during those six days was whenever his voice came over the radio, announcing that he was coming through with a suppressant. 

But then, they got lucky. Around three AM, officially Tommy’s birthday, the rain came. They’d contained about 95 percent of the fire at that point, but the rain coming through on a cold front helped. Many of the firefighters still there were so excited to see the downpour flooding the areas that they’d actually celebrated when it finally hit. 

By five AM, they’d all been called off to go home for at least twenty-four hours. Granted, the fire was still ablaze and plenty of them had every intention of returning the second they were allowed to, but they had also all been out there so long that many hadn’t seen their families over the course of the entire week. 

Evan was dead on his feet then. He’d been awake almost thirty-six hours, unable to sleep on his last break. He had no idea where Tommy was, but he could also barely keep his eyes open as Bobby drove A shift back to the 118, ordered them all to do as the fire chief had said and to stay gone for at least 24 hours from the time they walked out of the building. 

He would’ve called Tommy, but his phone was dead. It had been for three days. Sometimes he remembered to charge it when he went on break, but mostly, he just listened out on the open channel for Tommy’s voice to know he was okay. Anytime he heard him, he tried to radio out for one reason or another, silently return the favor of letting his love know that he was still alive on the ground. 

Still, he didn’t trust himself to drive. His eyes were so heavy that he wasn’t even sure he’d kept them open for more than five minutes during the time he took to shower and change at the firehouse. It was during the 20 minute period that he’d taken to do all of that, that he left his phone to actually charge so that he could order a ride once he was ready. He’d work out the semantics about his vehicle later. 

And like, he knew it was a hike out to Tommy’s; that he’d be paying more money to travel across town in an Uber than he would just driving his own car. He also knew that it was the safer option, and he was about to be paid out for an obscene amount of overtime. 

He fell asleep in the car on the ride over. The guy who’d driven him had been gracious enough, clearly aware of the situation plaguing their home. Plus, he’d picked Buck up from the firehouse, so he could only assume that the driver made inferences. 

He wasn’t sure if Tommy was home when he got there. The truck wasn’t in the driveway, but Evan also hadn’t driven himself, and he didn’t know how long it had been since Tommy had slept. Still, he let himself in with the key Tommy had given him early in the summer, dropped his bag and shoes at the door, and was stripping out of his jeans and hoodie before he was halfway through the house. When he made it to the bedroom, the older man was buried under a mountain of blankets. He kept the thermostat low, and Evan sometimes wondered if that was because Tommy wanted him to cuddle closer when they were in bed. 

Tommy didn’t stir as he settled. Evan was barely awake long enough to let his head fall into the space between his boyfriend’s shoulder blades. 

. . . 

He wakes up to the smell of coffee, and blinds being gently drawn. It makes him groan, tugging the blankets higher over his head. 

“No,” he groans. “Not enough sleep.” 

“Time to wake up, baby.” Fingers tugging at the edges of the blanket. He yanks them higher, burying his face in the pillow. Evan giggles.

“It’s my birthday,” he grumbles against the pillow. “This is rude.” 

Evan’s hand comes down on his back over the blanket, making gentle circles. 

“The chief sent out an all-stations notice. No one is allowed back for at least 48 hours now. I guess they finally have reinforcements coming in, although I don’t really understand the point now that the fire is mostly contained.” 

Tommy huffs, reaching up and pulling the blankets off his head. He glances up at Evan, freshly showered, smelling of his sandalwood and sage body wash. The blond smiles down at him. 

“Hi, sleepyhead.” 

“You suck,” Tommy grumbles at him, even as he reaches for the cup of coffee that Evan is offering him. 

“It’s two o’clock, T,” Evan laughs. “And I made plans for us weeks ago.” 

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him as he takes a long sip from the mug in his hands. Somehow, the first sip always calms down the grouchiness inside of him. 

“But if you really want, I could definitely suck something,” Evan adds. Tommy almost chokes on the hot liquid in his mouth. 

Once he’s swallowed, he sits up higher on the bed, leaning against the headboard. 

“What do you mean you have plans made,” he asks. “I thought we were just doing dinner tonight.”

“Sure,” Evan replies, leaning against his palm on the other side of Tommy’s legs. “Dinner. With twenty-five of our closest friends.” 

“Evan.” 

Evan waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. The wildfire kinda shot that to hell. I’m not about to expect everyone to show up after spending a week out in the forest. Eddie told me not to even text him in the next thirty-six hours, since Chris just got back.” 

Tommy nods. 

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t still have plans,” Evan states, waggling his eyebrows. 

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “Should I be concerned?” 

Evan just smirks, leaning forward on the bed to peck him on the lips. 

“Only if you have problems being covered in bite marks,” he murmurs before grabbing Tommy’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently. The older man groans softly, all but tugging Evan back into bed with him. 

“Fuck dinner with all of our friends,” he murmurs once he has Evan pinned back down on his side of the bed, his legs laying halfway across Tommy’s lap. He nuzzles against Evan’s neck, nibbling against the spot below his ear. “I think I can find all of my birthday presents right in this bed.” 

Evan laughs again, though it quickly fades into a moan. 

“Happy birthday, baby,” he says, lifting his arms as Tommy tugs his shirt towards his head. 

Tommy nods, smiling down at him as he discards the shirt, leaning back in for another kiss. “Yeah. Happy birthday to me.”