#autumn drabbles

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Autumn Drabble Voting

Choose a character for each prompt. Only choose a character once overall. For instance, if you vote Steve for the first prompts, vote a different character for the next and so on.

(Find other prompts in reblogs)

[grogusmum]

If love to play with your autumn Drabble prompts! How about apple, quilt, and solitude. I’d love to see what you come up with!

LJ! Thanks so much! I hope you enjoy it 💚🍎

Here is a little Joel Miller drabble set after Please Mister Please (but it's not necessary to read) Reader has a nickname.

Apple Pie

Joel rarely spent the night at your house. He needed to be home for Ellie, so naturally, you happily stayed the night at their house.

Your place was a little off the beaten path anyways, almost in the woods.

You loved being with the people of Jackson. The sense of community. But when you came home, you were ready for some solitude. Well, that was until recently, when a salt and pepper haired Texan came riding in with his teenage found family of one.

But tonight, as Ellie goes off to her first sleepover, (remember sleepovers??) Joel is spending it here, in your little cabin.

It's that time of year when summer and fall push and pull at each other. Both fighting for custody of the day. It's too warm for anything but a t-shirt in the sun, but you want a sweater in the shade. You can spend the day swimming at the pond, but need jeans and a sweater come four or five o'clock. And it's welcome after the scorcher of a summer you've had.

"Quiet out here," he murmurs as he comes up the steps of your little porch. Sitting in one of a pair of rockers you had put out hopefully a year ago for company, you smile and nod. Joel drops his rucksack and kisses your head. When you go to stand, he gently waves you back to your chair, plunking himself in the open rocker.

"What're we workin on?"

You smile and move a basket of apples so it sits between you on the floor.

"Apple pie."

Joel, already pulling his pocket knife out, smiles-

"Makin me a pie?"

"You bet."

Joel peels the apple in one long strip, giving you a wink when you nod appreciatively. Making you laugh.

After several apples peeling in companionable silence, just listening to the beginning chorus of katydids and frogs, accompanied by the occasional hoot of an owl. Joel slices one and brings a piece, still resting on his knife to his lips as he looks out at the door yard, listening.

"Sweet," he murmurs.

After a stew dinner and pie, you settle on the loveseat in front of a crackling fire and cover your laps with a quilt. The scent of cinnamon and baked apple still hangs in the air.

Joel brings his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in.

"Thanks, f'dinner. Everything was delicious. I just have one question, Catnip. "

You cuddle into his chest and give a contented sigh, which he echoes.

"Mmm?"

"Wanna mess around?"

THANKS FOR READING 💚

autumn word drabble prompts

[pricetagged]

Idk how to label this. Wifehunter John?

The idea of possessive/obsessive John manipulating a situation and stealing a wife for himself struck me, so just coughing the idea up while I sneak away for a coffee before I actually have to start work in 20 mins 💖 entirely unedited, abrupt ending

Masterlist l Part Two

________

For someone married to his job, he has put quite a bit of thought into what he is looking for in a wife. Namely, that she's already married.

His reasoning is threefold. He can admit to himself, firstly, that it satisfies his need for control. Competency. He's a busy man with a demanding job. Not quite retired yet, no time to build his own from scratch. With this, he gets a wife boxed up and ready-trained. Broken in.

Secondly, the need for control bleeds into his saviour complex. She'll need a shoulder to cry on, someone strong and capable to get her back on her feet. She'll be feeling a little fragile. Needy. Perfect.

And thirdly, it does something wild to his jealous, possessive streak. The idea of taking something precious, of breaking her bond to another man and tying it to him? Delicious. The idea that she used to be someone else's, that he has to imprint himself onto her knowing that in doing so he is erasing the imprint of another man? It has his teeth aching, grinding even as heat rises in his belly. Stirs at him.

The idea swirls lazily in the back of his mind, never quite finding the right time or right partner. He bats at it a few times, lazy cat playing with the notion, seeing how far it can stretch before it snaps. Eyes up pretty things everywhere he goes, glancing down at their left hands just to check, but nothing quite tugs on that string. Until one day it does when he's outfitting the security system at your house.

It's side work. Cash in hand, word of mouth. Something to keep him busy when on mandated leave. Something to keep in mind as his retirement from active duty creeps closer. And your husband is a real piece of work, all blustering braggadocio energy. Young buck, not knowing his place in the herd. Not knowing that he'd be better scratching his antlers off on a tree than going head-to-head with a gristled thing like John.

It's like John's energy, his presence in the house, sends alarm bells ringing in your husband's mind (Be the man. Don't back down. Puff up your chest and strut). And it plays so perfectly into John's hands because your young buck doesn't realise that what he's really doing is fawning. To John. (Look at me, be impressed by me!) He makes his biggest mistake in putting you down in front of him, trying to sidle up to John and create some kind of desperate camaraderie. Ordering you to bring tea to the men at work. Rolling his eyes at your attempts to talk, to ask questions about the work being done. Waving you off so he can stand and watch the proceedings. Like he could supervise. Like he has any clue what he's doing.

Only the promise of the long game keeps John from levelling him with a hard look, from calling him outblike he'd love to.

He hears you both in the in the other room, having swatted the young buck off like a particularly virulent pest. Noisy and bothersome. Not needed - or wanted- in this home. And entirely too stupid to realise that John wasn't being jocular in his dismissal.

You've been scribbling away for the past few days, something occupying your time, keeping you happy and hidden away in the kitchen.

"You're not serious, are you?"

"Well, yes," he hears the slight quaver in your voice before you find your footing. You've got at least a bit of spine. Good. "You said that I should find an occupation. Not just 'laze around the house playing housewife'. This is what I-"

"Oh come on, I didn't mean- You don't think that this is viable, do you?"

"Well... I love gardening. And I'm good at it. And there's no reason that it can't be more accessible for people, especially with the current economic-"

He cuts you off with a scoff. "Dear, just- I don't want you to be disappointed. I think you don't quite understand the time and effort this will take. And you know nothing of marketing, publishing. Why don't you put that away and start on dinner?"

And oh, isn't that delicious. He can taste it now, that idea that has been swirling. It's thick, almost tangible on his tongue. The tension in the house, the bitter lacryma of stifled tears. The slight acidity of words you left unsaid. It has his mouth watering, pupils dilating.

And when he's packing up that evening, tools and materials tucked in to the heavy workman's case, he swings by the kitchen on his way out. Catches the way something is jutting out slightly from the bin, lid slightly askew. When he pulls it out he realises it's some kind of notebook, carefully (lovingly) bound. Pictures pasted, mindmaps and notes and plans scribbled in the margins. Your gardening tips. Kitchen scraps, window boxes, rooftop plots. Urban gardening. It's deeply thoughtful, well researched.

A labour of love, lying in the rubbish.

Sweet, clever little thing. That just won't do.

He leaves your house with a little piece of you tucked away in his toolkit and a nice plan forming. He'll be back, of course, not quite finished with his work. He'd planted a few little links into the system he'd almost installed, projecting not just to the monitor in your home but also in his. Got to keep his eyes on you, keep you safe and cared for in ways that your useless husband can't.

Finding that book was a boon. He'd say it was divinely ordained if he believed in all that. It weighs heavy in his toolbox as he whistles out the door.

Now, how to get you alone and return it to you..

________________

This idea may have been done before? I'm not sure, sorry! I've seen a lot of possessive John floating around. Tagging @stellewriites because I said I would last time, and you've been so encouraging of my nonsense.

Anyway I've got like 4 long-form WIPs that I'm working on, so I may never actually write this one but thought I'd share since that image set I just reblogged made me feral 💖

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Red drops fell onto the frozen earth. Dripping off the knuckles of Demeter’s shaking fist, the pomegranate crushed between her fingers.

"You tricked her." Her voice was barely a breath, but it was in every howling gale sobbing in the barren trees.

Hades, lovesick, pained yet unrepentant, met her eyes without a word.

"So be it." The parched ground groaned under Demeter's feet, but she did not hear it, her eyes fixed on Hades' stoic face. "You took my child from me, then take all to keep her company. I shall not nurture earth she does not walk upon."

For the first time, Hades started back, but Demeter was turneding away from him already, casting her sunken eyes to the heavens.

"I will be deaf to their pleas, like you were to mine!" her voice screeched, and breaking, shuddered on: "And there won’t be a parent among them, even as they curse my name, who can swear they would not have done the same..."

Silence fell. And the wilting earth wept. Until a voice came from the dark like a song and Hermes, swift-footed, emerged from the mouth of Hades.

"Six seeds, dear uncle, sweet aunt of mine. Only six out of a whole fruit..."

His smile was winning, but his cunning eyes were wide. As wide as the as the vast fields, ploughed to breaking in human desperation, that stretched lifeless past every horizon.

"Six seeds...six months..." He looked from the lord of the dead to the mistress of the harvest. "Six months above, with her loving mother, six months below, with her faithful husband."

The very breeze held its breath as hope and fury mingled in Demeter's eyes and Hermes bowed, his knuckles pale around his winged staff.

Hades stood, silent, and then quickly stepped, allowing Hermes to pass. And behind him, led up the endless steps of Hades, came Persephone. Dressed in rayments as fine and dark as the night.

"Mother!"

It was a commonplace cry. Cried by every fledgling tumbled from the nest, every cub turned around in the woods, every child lost in the dark. But the whole world breathed as Demeter answered.

Hades averted his eyes, Hermes grinned at the sky, and holding her daughter once more, tears finally welled in Demeter's frozen eyes. Raining down upon the earth, where grass began sprouting between Persephone's feet.

[edenspoem]

Omg can I request Ellie and reader on halloween night exploring an abandoned house that’s known to be haunted. Ellie and reader are both huge fans of horror and ghosts, often exploring abandoned places and even using those apps that you can talk to ghosts with. So, you both go, but terrifying things begin to happen and you’re both freaking the fuck out equally. Bonus points if Ellie gets protective <3

ok so yeah i had to do a bit of a drabble for this one! nothing too extreme though, but i love this idea. instead of them using apps, because ellie is such a nerd, i think she would have the genuine gear for it. girl heard the words "ghost hunting" and decked out immediately in all the utilities. ellie image @/angel-gbc

“Can you tell us your name?”

This house is a chamber of disembodied sounds. Ellie discovered it on her usual walk from work, dead and moth-eaten as ever, and all she wanted to do was explore it through and through. She loves horror, and you follow her on that sentiment. The Victorian face of the house has remained gently intact—a debris-ridden ghost of its preceding self—save for a few holes, shattered windows, spots of soot from fire, and the eternal state of squalor. Eternal life of loneliness, unwantedness. Quite a big, blotchy stain on a lovely modern neighborhood full of copy and paste houses, huh?

Wrong!

Gentry used to live there, and now the gentry want it torn up. Like a sketch you feel disgust looking at.

But you admit this plainly. Watching your nerdy girlfriend psych herself to come here with every gimmick and gadget pushing on the seams of her backpack really is cute. Noticing her lip curl when there's even a second of static feedback on the spirit box, really is the cherry on top of a long weekend; you regret nothing.

For now.

She is kneeling, you are crouching. “You can use the—um, spirit box,” Ellie swallows her throat clear, adjusting the placement of the equipment. ”To talk to us.” Ridiculous excursion or not, you both felt a bit on edge. Hairs raise in anticipation.

Your pores felt susceptible. Open to the change in the air, responsive to the uncomfortable sounds of clothes and limbs shifting. Maybe your mind had made up an individual now: a pompous and rich woman. Tight in the waist from the boning of a corset, and rather busty because of it. She is the woman of this household, you believe, and she circles you with broad shoulders and steel curiosity. Not too creative for a nineteenth-century ghost.

You could feel her stare crawling all over you. Or your imagination. Shivers run up your spine regardless.

“Hey, maybe we should ask what happened to her,” you bleat, not conscious of how disomforted you look palming the back of your neck, or your words. The air has gone cold.

Ellie scales a brow at you. “Her? Shit, have you gone psychic now?” Her questioning tone drips of mock and shock, somehow simultaneously. But one widens her expression when static crackles inside the receiver, and lets a low sound through. She props up on her knees. “Could you tell us what happened to you?”

The feedback ends.

Ellie huffs a sigh of disappointment, lowering herself again. So much for going psychic. “Good job, though. Seem to 've said somethin' right,” she reveres you softly, pricking a knee up to set her fist on. Her leather jacket shines low with your flashlight.

The event left you paranoid, but all you can do is wonder if she feels the same, but stomachs a facade over it. God, does she think she needs to impress you?

Apparently so. Behind the silence, came a violent clatter of wood, or a door, none can be sure. You were the first instantiation; something between a shirek and a gasp calls your hand to cocoon at your chest, and you scatter aimlessly onto your bottom. It felt like an injection of fear. It made your blood drain. Made your breath run thick.

Fucking ghosts.

Ellie repined in a yelling whisper. “Jesus!” Her silhouette much more composed and still upright, but with a hand on her heart. Faint sounds of her scooting over, however, spurn your sight from the suspected room of activity, her acorn-brown brows pulled to a worried low. “You good?”

The gentleness of the question soothes. “Sure.” Somewhat.

Her lips quirk, and she hesitates a laugh. “Ha—yeah. No clue what the fuck that was,” she rasps as she slides up next to you, the warmth of her hand eroding the stifle in your back. She encourages you to ease into it with rubbing motions. “Way scarier than horror movies make it out to be, huh?”

You over-ease, “Definitely,” the word falling out so heavy. The charm of her actions make you forget this place even surrounds you. Material disappears. “God, my heart is racing.” You lean into your knees.

Ellie noses at your neck, tip smushing. “I got you.”

She does. You cannot see her from your cocooned vantage, but you can feel her breath, and sweet lips forming into kisses. The little noises created let you imagine instead: she is probably donning a dorky smile, and has wispy, brown, shut eyes. You picture her hand coming up to clasp your shoulder, right when it actually does.

“Good thing we aren't in an actual horror movie, though,” Ellie presses the joke into your humid neck, slowly creeping behind your ear. “That would suck.”

You bring your forehead up, smiling tauntingly. “You would probably die first since you're so distracted.”

Her mouth clicks. “Shut up.” But resumes the delicate act of pinching at your skin without shame. That, for her, is the reason the other-worldly, torturing atmosphere around you turns to something of a soothing bliss. Funnily enough, it happens during said movies. Distractions on your neck and a greedy girl hungry to eat them whole and proudly.

Though, when she finally comes to her senses, she plays knight in converse and band-shirt armor and scopes the area of interest. Nothing was there except an old broom and a rat nest. Made for a whole lot of embarrassment later on in bed, that is for damn sure. Little comments of “I'm such an idiot,” rolling off your tongue while Ellie complimented you on your sudden intuition; the house did indeed belong to a woman of affluent status. How sexy is intuition? Ellie would know.

But Ellie loves being your ghost-hunting bodyguard—and nerd—either way. Something inherent inside her says she might be made for it.

a/n: wrote this in one go so i hope it suffices enough! click here for my autumntime masterlist!

[prettytoxicrevolver]

can i request prompt number 18 ew you like candy corn with luke hughes please? i actually like candy corn and i think he would like it too lol

i fucking LOVE candy corn bro not enough people like it 😭 i also agree he probs would like it but i had an idea at the end that i thought was cute so apologies!

~

“Okay, we have pizza, we have soda, we have dessert, we have horror movies to last a lifetime and we have candy,” Quinn declares gesturing to the mountain of food laid out before you.

You, Quinn, Jack, Luke, Trevor, and Cole were all hanging out together for your not so annual halloween party. However, the use of the word party is extremely loose considering it was usually you guys plus any significant others or random friends that have decided to tag along. It also consisted of eating as much food as possible and watching all types of horror flicks until everyone is passed out on the couch in a food coma.

You guys start with a classic horror film, Halloween and you’re each curled into your individual seats. You and Luke on one loveseat, Quinn sitting by himself, and Jack, Trevor, and Cole on the big couch.

You’re almost through your third movie, Jack pausing it so he can go to the bathroom and you turn to look at Quinn.

“Did you buy candy corn?”

“Yes weird gremlin I bought candy corn for you,” he jokes, getting up from his seat and heading to the kitchen to grab it.

“You like candy corn?” Trevor asks and when you nod he makes a face. “That’s disgusting.”

“And this is why you don’t have friends,” you retort and Trevor’s jaw drops, hand reaching up to dramatically clutch his heart while Cole laughs next to him.

“I’ve never had candy corn,” Luke says from next to you and you turn with a loud gasp.

“You’ve never had candy corn?!” you exclaim.

“Here we go,” Cole murmurs and you shoot him a look but you both end up cracking a smile the minute you make eye contact.

“Heads up,” Quinn calls and you can’t even react in time when the bag of candy corn is thrown in your direction.

Luke thankfully catches it and hands it over to you where you rip the bag open quickly and pick out one of the big pumpkin shaped candy corn pieces.

“Try it,” you tell him.

“Is she on this candy corn bullshit again?” Jack asks when he comes walking back into the living room and you flip him off before turning and waiting for the youngest Hughes brother to finally try candy corn.

You watch as Luke takes a bite, unsure at first but then nodding his head as he continues to chew.

“This is pretty good,” he says, smiling lightly.

“Hah!” you exclaim, turning to the rest of the boys. “Get fucked!”

“We're never gonna hear the end of this,” Quinn sighs and you grin widely.

After two more movies you’re successfully passed out next to Luke, your head resting on his shoulder. The other boys have gone to bed but Quinn quietly cleans up the area first.

“Luke?” he asks and the young boy looks up at his older brother.

“Did you actually like the candy corn?”

Luke glances down at you, making sure you’re fast asleep before looking back over at his brother.

“Not at all,” he admits.

“Thought so,” Quinn responds, a soft knowing smile on his lips. “Goodnight.”

“Night Quinn.”

[hotluncheddie]

For @steddie-spooktober day 3 prompt : apples

rated: T | cw: none | tags: old queers, mechanic eddie munson, they're in love

🍏🍞🍏🍞🍏

Steve is stirring the saucepan of soup he made as strong arms wrap themselves around his waist. The softness of Eddie’s middle-aged belly pressing up against his back, the familiar scratch of salt and pepper stubble as his husband leaves a kiss just under his ear.

Steve’s sighs happily, leaning back into Eddie’s warmth.

‘It’s really that time of year again already?’ Eddie mumbles, his face buried in Steve’s shoulder.

Steve hums, turning the stove off and shifting them so he’s leaning against the counter and facing eddie, wrapping his arms around his neck. ‘Yup, collected them from the tree this morning.’ He supplies, tucking a looses strand of Eddie’s work sweaty hair behind his ear.

Eddie’s eyes close sleepily and he opens his mouth. Every year Steve makes apple bread from their apple tree in the back garden, and every year Eddie acts like he’s surprised; before asking Steve to make more once there’s none left to pack with his lunches.

Steve breaks off a bite from the now cool loaf next to him, pulling it off with his fingers because it’s not like he’s sharing with anyone but Eddie. Getting a bit with a chunk of apple inside and feeding it gently into his husband’s waiting mouth. Eddie licks the crumbs from Steve’s fingers and steve marvels at how Eddie’s crows feet are always visible now, not just when he smiles. Older and wiser but just as pretty and goofy as he was when they were 20.

They’re really growing old together, who would’ve known.

‘You’re an outdoorsman and a housewife, how’d I get so lucky?’ Eddie mumbles, opening his big Bambi eyes again as mischief grows on his face. ‘The boys at the shop better be ready to hear me braggin’. “He does it wearing grey sweatpants too.” They’re young, they know what that means.’ Eddie teases, squeezing Steve’s ass with his perpetually oil stained hands.

‘You do not tell them that!’ Steve argues, cheeks flushing at the implications of the nicknames and gossip.

‘I employ them! I can make them listen to me talk about anything. My hot husband who bakes for me and literally forages outdoors is definitely on the yap agenda tomorrow.’ Eddie says matter of factly, nuzzling against Steve’s hot cheek. ‘They made enough fun of me after seeing what a beanpole I used to be in old pictures, least I can do is brag about the guy who turned me into a bear.’

Steve purses his lips but he’ll never not enjoy the way Eddie shows him off, how special it makes him feel. And he can’t help his brain going a little fuzzy as Eddie crowds closer, his bulk pressing in all over. It’s Steves favourite place to be; pushed against anything with Eddie’s weight holding him there.

So when Eddie removes Steve’s glasses gently, setting them on the counter and holding firm at the base of his skull, Steve goes willingly. Always has and always will, mouths dipping together with the sweet taste of autumn on their tongues.

The familiar burst of love that Steve feels for Eddie every day, every year, every season, filling his chest.

And he hopes, knows, that he’ll get to feel it for the rest of their life. For all the autumns still to come.

🍏🍞🍏🍞🍏

Tag list (message to be added/removed):

@scoops-aboy86 @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @marvel-ous-m

@thecatkingsthrone @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Sweater weather and remus lupin plssss

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ sweater weather

synopsis: ever since you’ve known remus, he’s had a habit of giving you his sweater when you’re cold. it’s nothing, just a small gesture—at least, that’s what you tell yourself. but on a chilly autumn evening, wrapped in his warmth, you start to wonder if it’s always been something more content warnings: slight angst if you squint, lots of fluff, mutual pining author's note: coming right up, sweets!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 860

The wind whips through the trees, the golden and red leaves swirling in the air as they fall to the ground, carpeting the earth in a riot of autumn color. The chill is sharper today, seeping into your bones despite the thick jumper you’re wearing. You wrap your arms around yourself, pulling the sleeves down over your cold hands as you walk, boots crunching on the gravel of the Hogwarts grounds. It’s peaceful, in a way. The brisk air makes your cheeks flush, and the solitude of the evening feels like a gentle hug from the season itself.

But you’re not alone for long.

You hear footsteps behind you—familiar, quiet, purposeful. You don’t turn around. You know who it is, the gentle scrape of his shoes against the ground already bringing a small smile to your lips. And soon enough, a warm presence is at your side, Remus Lupin’s familiar face coming into your peripheral vision.

He doesn’t say anything at first. The silence between you is comfortable, like it always is. The two of you have never needed words to communicate the little things, the feelings that bubble beneath the surface. There’s a weight in his gaze that’s always lingered there—melancholy mixed with something gentler, something reserved for you.

Remus exhales slowly, his breath misting in the cool air, and for a moment you glance at him, your eyes meeting his soft brown ones. They hold a tenderness, as if he’s trying to say something without saying it, his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he murmurs after a while, his voice low and rough, tinged with affection.

You shrug, looking back at the lake in front of you, where the water ripples gently under the breeze. “It’s nice here in autumn.”

“It is,” he agrees quietly, stepping closer, so close that his arm brushes against yours. “You looked cold.”

Before you can respond, he’s already unbuttoning his worn-out cardigan, the one you’ve seen him wear a hundred times before. Without hesitation, he slips it off and drapes it over your shoulders, his fingers grazing your skin in the process. The touch sends a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

“Remus, I—” you begin, but he cuts you off gently.

“It’s too cold for you, dove,” he says, giving you a small smile. “I’d feel better if you wore it.”

You pull the cardigan tighter around yourself, the scent of him—faint tobacco, old books, and something uniquely Remus—enveloping you in warmth. The fabric is soft, a little worn at the edges, and you can tell it’s been loved over the years. Just like you’ve been loved, quietly, deeply, even if it’s never been said aloud.

“Thanks,” you murmur, glancing at him. His hair is tousled, a few strands falling into his eyes, and you reach up instinctively, brushing them away. He stills at your touch, his breath hitching for the briefest of moments, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand finds yours, gently holding it in his.

“Do you ever think about leaving?” you ask softly, your eyes drifting back to the lake, to the vastness of the world beyond Hogwarts.

He pauses, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Sometimes,” he admits, voice quiet. “But then I think about what I’d be leaving behind.”

Your heart skips a beat. You know what he means. You know who he means.

The silence stretches between you again, but it’s heavier this time, full of unspoken things that linger in the air like the fog rolling over the water. You shiver slightly, and Remus notices. Without a word, he steps closer, his arm slipping around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. You rest your head against his chest, closing your eyes and letting yourself sink into the moment, into him.

It’s too cold to be out here, but you don’t mind. Not when you have Remus beside you, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back, his breath warm against your hair.

“We could leave, you know,” he whispers, so quietly you almost don’t hear him. “We could go somewhere far away from all of this. Just us.”

It’s an impossible thought, but for a second, you let yourself imagine it. The two of you, together, somewhere far away where the weight of the world doesn’t press so heavily on his shoulders. Where his secrets don’t matter, where your fears don’t hold you back.

You look up at him, meeting his gaze, and for the first time, you see the vulnerability there. The part of him that he hides from the world, that he’s only ever shared with you. And in that moment, you know that wherever you are, as long as you’re with him, you’ll be okay.

“It’s too cold for you here, dove,” he repeats softly, but this time, the words hold more meaning. His eyes search yours, and you know he’s not just talking about the weather.

You lean up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, and you feel him smile against your skin. “Not when I’m with you.”

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[tetskuro]

autumn is akaashi's favorite season. the summer heat ebbs away into a pleasant chill, the crisp air foreshadowing colder months ahead. despite this, he's always liked the warmth in the trees as amber hues provide a stark contrast against the ashen sky. but most of all, he looks forward to seeing your face light up as he hands you your favorite hot drink.

"you didn't have to," you utter, yet the way your eyes sparkle says otherwise.

"but i wanted to," he replies swiftly.

he watches you raise the cup to your lips and take a tentative sip, warmth spreading from the top of his head to his toes when you hum contendedly. akaashi's smile is hidden behind his scarf, but the crinkle of his eyes betrays him.

your lips quirk upwards when you notice his subdued giddiness. "thank you, keiji."

the crunch of dry leaves accompanies the sound of your voice. akaashi thinks he quite enjoys this—spending autumn evenings wandering aimlessly while listening to you talk about your day. when the wind picks up, he interlaces his fingers with yours and slips his other hand into his coat pocket, feeling the extra pair of mittens that he keeps for you.

and just as the leaves fall every year without fail, akaashi falls for you time and time again.

for more works, check out my masterlist

© tetskuro all rights reserved. please do not repost my work.

[milkbobatyun]

mooncakes and wine, my memories of you will alway shine

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

genre: fluff, sequel (maybe?)

summary: though thousands of years have passed, it's mid-autumn again, traditionally a time of reunion. who better to spend your time with other than your lover and (adopted) son, as well as the friends you made along the way.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: speedwrote this so i could post it in celebration of mid-autumn festival. i was thinking this could be an alternate ending to a zhongli fic im currently working on, but i REALLY wanted to post this in celebration of mid-autumn so here it is! to those who celebrate it, 中秋节快乐, to those who dont, have a good day ig !! (●'◡'●)

the cool, autumn breeze drifted in through the window, ruffling the curtains. the remnants of summer’s heat lingered in the room. in a distant corner of the room, a stick of incense burned, its delicate smoke curling into the room. long, golden beams of light bathed the interior of the traditional liyue style home, illuminating the wooden floors, mahogany wood bed and the infernal dust particles that hung in the air.

the sunlight spilled onto the pillows, warming the geo dragon and his mate, nestled together in the bed, blanketed by peaceful sleep.

you blinked open your eyes, roused from your lazy afternoon nap by birdsong spilling from outside the windowsill. finding yourself securely embraced in the arms of a sleeping zhongli, you let out an amused sigh of resignation, turning to admire his serene, sleeping face.

noticing a strand of chocolate hair laying across his face, you reached out a hand, gently sweeping it off his face. zhongli’s draconic senses tingled, his nose twitching and scrunching in alertness at the disturbance.

a narrowed eye, glittering like cor-lapis, peered at you, clouded with sleep. when it caught sight of your startled and apologetic face, its hard stare softened almost immediately. zhongli gazed at you, molten amber eyes overflowing with love.

“you’re awake, mr sleepy dragon.” you teased, a warm smile on your face. “i believe it’s time to get up and get prepared.” you mused.

zhongli shook his head with mock displeasure, burying himself deeper into the heat of the blankets. with a soft chuckle, you pressed a kiss to his forehead before slipping out from his grasp, eliciting a rumble of displeasure from the geo dragon.

slipping your feet into the slippers, you padded into the bathroom, changing into your festive hanfu. the silk rustled softly as you moved to your vanity table, the polished wood cool beneath your hands. with delicacy, you glided to your low set table, seating yourself before your mirror. you reached for your brush, gently untangling the knots in your hair.

your movements are halted when a pair of hands place themselves over yours, gently taking the brush from your grasp, before deft fingers comb through your hair, practiced hands twisting strands into delicate hairstyles atop your head.

you glanced in the mirror, zhongli’s tall form standing behind you. his amber eyes filled with unspoken adoration. a gentle smile carved upon both your lips, a silent exchange of love passing between you.

with gentle grace, zhongli slipped a hair pin and decoration into your hair, completing the hairstyle. reaching towards your box of homemade makeup, you picked out a sheet of red paper, placing it between your lips, pressing it firmly onto your lips. the red dusted your lips, a soft layer of red coating them.

unscrewing the china pot of red, you wet your brush, saturating it in the red ink that inhabited the inside of the pot. careful precision and a deft flick of your wrist, your eyes were lined with the signature red eyeliner, the bold colour accentuating your eyes.

you turned around, red brush still in hand, looking expectantly up at zhongli. understanding your unspoken question, zhongli leaned forwards, placing his chin on your hand. taking the opportunity, you teasingly squished his cheeks.

“you look like a little puppy, not some fearsome dragon god.” you chuckled.

zhongli huffed in displeasure, though a glimmer of playfulness in his amber eyes betrayed his true feelings. 

“you’re the only one who can tame such a fearsome dragon god into an obedient puppy.” he laughed, his voice a soothing rumble.

his only response was a playful roll of your eyes, your hand reaching out with the red-tipped brush. the coolness of the ink glided across his eyelids, a practiced flick of the brush and his eyeliner had been applied.

while zhongli leaned over your shoulder to peer at himself in the mirror, reminding yourself of a proud dragon admiring its appearance, you ran your brush through zhongli’s lucious hair, his deep, pleased purrs vibrating throughout the room. you took the chance to leave a swift kiss on his cheek. unbeknownst to zhongli, a faint mark of red lingered on his cheek.

the tranquil atmosphere was broken when a cough alerted you to a new guest. framed in the doorway, a grumpy cat xiao stood with his arms crossed, a scowl present on his face.

his hair stuck up in all kinds of directions, reminding you of a frazzled cat. what made you laugh was the thick, uneven lines of red eyeliner around his eyes, turning him into a spotted cat, rather than a fearsome yaksha.

“ā niáng…” xiao trailed off, his face turning sheepish. “could you help me with this?”

both zhongli and you couldn’t contain your amusement, a rumble of laughter sounding from zhongli, mixing with your tinkling laugh.

xiao turned red as a tomato at your laughs, a pout forming on his face.

you gestured him to come over, brush working through the mess of his hair. you collected his hair into a ponytail, securing it with a simple metal head helmet, to match his hanfu.

while you prepared xiao, zhongli went and changed into his hanfu, his hair flowing over the velvety dark silk of his clothing.

as you smoothed out the wrinkles in zhongli’s hanfu, you couldn’t help but smile. after so many years together, these small gestures of care felt second nature, but the warmth they brought was still as strong as ever. even xiao, with his grumpy exterior, seemed to melt into the quiet love of the moment, his earlier pout softening as he waited patiently. though he was careful to fashion a face of mock disgust, sticking out his tongue cheekily when he caught your eye.

as the sun began to hover over the horizon, bathing the streets with a vibrant orange, the three of you made your way around liyue, your arm looped in zhongli’s, while xiao marched on in front. 

in the betwix of dusk, the lanterns flickered to life, flames dancing, shadowy will-o’-wisps behind the paper. some were fish-shaped, some shaped like flowers or rabbits, while some were the traditional cylindrical shape. admiring the array of lanterns, hanging from shop windows and children’s hands, from the makeshift rafters built atop the streets, the wonderful smell of cooking made your stomach grumble.

passing by a liquor shop, zhongli stopped to buy a few bottles of osmanthus wine. after all, it was the mid-autumn festival, the only appropriate wine to drink was osmanthus. as expected, when zhongli reached for his wallet, his search yielded no results, realising–once again–he forgot his wallet. you shook your head hopelessly at zhongli’s forgetfulness, pulling out your own wallet to pay.

your little party made your way to wanming restaurant, the clinking of wine bottles against each other your pied piper’s melody. as you strolled through the streets, you picked up several friends along the way. 

xingqiu and chongyun’s playful banter filled the air, while hu tao attempted—and failed—to sneak up on you, switching her target to zhongli instead. with a tiger-like pounce, hutao jumped onto the shoulders of zhongli, earning a startled gasp from the otherwise composed dragon

chuckles of amusement rang out, while zhongli could only sigh and shake his head. of course his own wife wouldn’t alert him, they’d been married for thousands of years, what could he expect?

cheerful chatter rang out from the balcony of wanming restaurant, everyone turning to greet your party when you arrived. sitting around the large, circular table, many of your friends from liyue and beyond gathered, even the traveller and paimon were there, celebrating the mid-autumn festival.

there was the occasional pranks by xingqiu, keqing accidentally knocked over xiangling at one point, sending food flying everywhere. amidst the chaos, zhongli sat peacefully, appreciating the wine served, reminiscing on past memories.

the lively atmosphere warmed you, settling into your heart. you admired the sun, sinking below the horizon, dying the sky with rich shades of gold, orange and crimson, before deep hues of blue and purple surfaced, fluffy clouds replaced with glimmering stars.

as the night shone brightly with the full moon, fireworks lit up the darkness, cheers ringing out into the sky. leaning close to zhongli’s ear, you quietly whispered to him.

“happy mid-autumn festival, morax.”

resting your head on his shoulder, whilst you were entranced by the fireworks display, zhongli watched you with golden eyes brimming with love and adoration. 

in that moment, amongst the boom of the fireworks and chatter, it was just the two of you, bound by the memories you shared, by time and fate.

footnotes:

1. mahogany wood as a symbolism of status, a traditional material for chinese furniture

2. hanfu — a traditional style of clothing originating from china, nowadays is usually worn during traditional festivals

3. ā niáng — a traditional term in Chinese that means "mother" or "mom."

4. lanterns — a symbol of beacons lighting up people's paths to prosperity and good fortune

5. osmanthus wine — ironically, osmanthus wine is traditionally drunk during the mid-autumn festival, with it symbolising reunion and prosperity

6. clinking wine bottles + pied piper's reference — just a little allusion to how you and zhongli are the leaders of the group, when the others hear the wine bottles clinking together (if you search up "traditional chinese wine bottles" or you've watched 'the untamed' then you'll know what i mean)

7. mooncakes and wine, my memories of you will always shine — a reference to zhongli's voice line about memories shining like gold, while referencing the mooncakes and wine of the night

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobatyun 2024 / づ ♡

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Autumn Drabbles Results

I'm mostly posting this for my reference, but the polls can be found here. I feel like people didn't vote a character only once tho lmaooo and it skewed so I kinda just refinagled so each character got a prompt.

Prompt #1: Your friend invites you to a bonfire where you meet a man who knows you better than you think. - Bucky Barnes

Prompt #2: Your mother invites a lonely coworker to Thanksgiving, a bit too lonely. - Andy Barnes

Prompt #3: You get lost on a campus on your first day of college and a helpful stranger shows you around. - Steve Rogers

Prompt #4: You bake one of your favourite fall trees for your coworkers but one of them takes it to mean more than it does. - Tony Stark

Prompt #5: You get caught in the corn maze after dark but you don’t think those footsteps belong to someone trying to help you find your way out. - Lloyd Hansen

I am also going to be trying to work these into some ongoing challenges for the fall! Linking below to boost.

Cum One, Cum All Challenge

The Sleepover's Winds of Autumn Challenge

If there are any other challenges you know of, let me know so I can reblog separately and add here.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bad Idea, Right?

An Eris x Reader drabble

(Part 2) (Part 3)

Warnings: a bit smutty, language

“Your dad’s going to kill you.”

My head was pounding. This bed was so warm.

Last night was a blur.

Nyx, how many times do I have to request that you not intrude on my thoughts before 9 am.

“It’s almost noon, cousin.”

Shit!

Shit, cover for me! Please.

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

Right. I know. Cover for me anyway?

“One hour. Be here in one hour. You owe me.”

Don’t worry, Nyxie. I’ll cover for you the next time you visit the lovely daughter of Spring.

Slamming my mental shields up, I rolled over to the fiery lover next to me with a groan, “Get me out of this autumnal wasteland.”

“Good morning to you too, little one.” the redhead pressed against my backside grumbled.

I rolled over to smack his shoulder. “Gross, Eris. I’m the same age as Aunt Nesta when you proposed to her.”

Eris smirked. “She never called me daddy like you do.”

I let out a mirthful laugh, hoisting myself on top of him, straddling just below his rippled abdomen, “I’m never fucking you again.”

“You say that every time, dear.” Gripping his hands on my hips, groggy voice a whisper, “Yet somehow you keep falling back into my bed.”

Fuck. He was so hot.

I leaned down, pressing my breasts to his bare chest, face just an inch from his. “I can’t help that my shadows love how you beg.”

A growl escaped the back of his throat as my shadows restrained his wrists above his head. My gaze turned icy as I commanded, “Eyes on me, Eris.”

His only response a shift of his hips.

“Don’t fucking move.” I purred.

Nyx could keep the family off my back for a little longer.

[velidewrites]

thinking very hard about crying in front of sylas tonight. need to sob into his giant tits while he gets all big and scary and protective of me :/

You're suddenly enveloped by a fur cloak.

Sylas pulls you into his arms, the thick coat descending from his shoulders onto your own. This, you realize, is the very first time the two of you have ever stood so close — had you not sought him out in his war tent tonight, you might never have known the warmth radiating from his body, as if that fire simmering within him was as desperate for your touch as you are for its master.

He holds you in his arms with a strength that is gentle yet... reluctant. It makes you want to writhe against him until your bodies are welded into one at last, shattering that last bit of uncertainty, of hesitation, of the cold, cruel war that has so desperately been trying to drive you two apart. Somehow, he's always been able to find his way back to you.

Tonight, you finally managed to find him instead.

The featherlight touch of the fur against your cheek tingles, making you half-turn, burying your face into his chest subconsciously. You feel his muscles tense beneath your touch at the proximity, and a heat of your own begins to rise in your cheeks at your own boldness. The last time he'd tensed up beneath you like that, it was with the tip of your sword teasing his sternum, not your nose. How far the two of you had come.

He must be realizing it, too, as you feel his shoulders fall an inch, the broad hand on your waist moving to smooth over your lower back. He pulls you in closer, close enough now that you feel his breath brush against your temple before he rests his chin atop your head. Not once, in all those months on the opposing sides of the battlefield, did you ever imagine Sylas Vanserra like this. Let alone with you.

It dawns on you then that he's probably never comforted anyone this way — had never been comforted like that by another, at least not at a time when it would have mattered most. For a moment, the very thought makes you forget your own reasons for finding yourself in his tent in the first place, forget the nightmare that made you walk through the camp on shaky legs in the dead silence of the night. Sylas is holding you, and he's...

You dare to speak. "Sylas?"

"I'm here."

The response comes immediately, and it takes all the strength you have left to keep your body from melting into his own. Sylas's voice carries a rasp that makes you think — makes you hope — he's not the only one holding back.

"You're very good at this," you tell him, nuzzling your face deeper into his chest.

A small scoff sounds from above, and you can't help but let out a small chuckle.

"You make my compliment sound like an insult," you point out.

There's only a beat of silence between you before he finally says, "It's not."

You sigh, content. It's as if the sound of his voice had somehow dissipated all the tension in your body and quietened the raging storm of your sleepless mind. "I'm glad you think so." You turn your face to the side again, then, letting your cheek rest right above his heart — right where you know a horrible scar begins, twisting his skin into patterns of flames rising all the way up to his neck. He hides it, even without the bronze plates of his armor, and he hides it well. But you know — know he hates himself for it, and you've seen enough to understand who truly is the one at fault. Even if Sylas himself does not.

"Like this, I can hear your heart," you murmur, hoping its strong, if not a little rapid beat resonates with your own. Perhaps then, the two of you will finally sleep.

You might already be drifting away — or maybe his question is barely audible enough for you to catch, buried under the warm embrace of the furs. "What is my heart telling you?"

You smile.

"I think it's agreeing with me."

[girllblogging777]

Hello girlypop I was wondering if you could request a crisp autumn match. It would legit make my day I think they are so fun.💚My house is Slytherin, my favorite spot in the castle is the astronomy tower, my favorite class is potions, I’m a huge stoner but I don’t give off stoner vibes so when people find that out about me they are often surprised also I just wanted to add I have an extremely cute cat named Padmé since she is my child. I can’t wait to find out who you think is my perfect match

°•*⁀➷ crisp autumn match // my 1k celebration

╰┈➤ theodore nott

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

♡ theo and you weren’t ever friends. sure, you were in the same house and saw eachother quite often

♡ but still, you had never gotten the opportunity to talk to him alone

♡ one day, you went to the astronomy tower for your usual smoke and there he was

♡ “come here often ?” he asked with a grin, his eyes curious when he saw the joint between your fingers, very similar to the one he was holding

♡ you to stayed there and chatted for hours, giggling at every word the other said

♡ these smoking sessions soon became a regular thing between the two of you

♡ you’d just discuss whatever came to mind, the conversation flowing naturally and without any uncomfortable silences

♡ he would talk about quidditch and you somehow managed to mention your beloved cat in every single sentence, before you two would get into unrelated debates

♡ and that was it, all you ever needed. just you and him, away from everyone else

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

[theorphicangel]

#009

slight nsfw

thinking about living in a cottage with Levi, having slow, slow mornings with each other, him fucking you till the sun comes up. having a full breakfast, him pretending not to see you steal forkfuls from his plate, then spending the rest of the day doing whatever you want, going down to the lake, skimming stones, taunting him about stripping down and skinny dipping, something he teased about saving for another day, hiking through a forest before cuddling up with a book or two for the rest of the evening. lighting up the fireplace and Levi bringing you your favourite hot drink as he drinks his specialty— tea. curling up on the couch for the rest of the night where late night conversations take place which turn to make out sessions which turns to slow, loving sex by the fire

[tadpolesonalgae]

Eris x reader: Autumn Frost

A/N: Love autumn and winter but cannot deal with the cold

Also, I know it’s late, but here it is (I’m so sorry this took a while)

Warnings: mostly fluff, but some suggestiveness towards the end…

Word Count: 1,620

You’re out of your clothes and leaping beneath the covers before he’s stepped foot in the room.

The vibrant oranges and burning reds are always stunning, so rich and lively, but your fingertips have long since gone numb, along with your toes. The sheets are crisp, but cool, not yet warmed by bodies. Shivers run along your skin, as if skating across a frozen lake. Teeth chatter in the silence, and sharp, caramel eyes flick over to your heavily-duveted form—bundled up tight beneath the cotton sheets.

Before you can protest, Eris has strode to your side, hand sliding beneath the covers to locate your own. His brows narrow when he feels the iciness of your skin, almost frozen stiff. None of the softness he so frequently seeks to be found. “You’re freezing,” he mutters, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Half of you wants to pull away, but you’re too preoccupied with the heat that’s seeping from his skin into your own, warming your blood. “I’m fine,” you reassure, teeth chattering a little, lips slightly numb. His brow narrows further, “you’re clearly not fine. You’re shaking.” You manage a small smile, tightening your hands on his, pulling him closer, rolling onto your side as you curl into him. “I like it,” you murmur, “it’s part of Autumn—the chill. And it makes the heat so much better; more rewarding.”

He sighs, free hand wrapping around the nape of your neck, pulling you up the to heat of his body, tucking you into the crook of his shoulder. “So strange, aren’t you?” He mumbles the question under his breath, hot lips brushing your temple. You press deeper into his warmth, bathing in the heat of that inner flame. “Rude.”

A chuckle drags from his chest, like the crackle and pop of firewood from a bonfire. “I’m right though, aren’t I?” You tip your head up to glare at him, but he presses his lips to your forehead, instantly softening you. Leaning into the quiet kiss, you squeeze his hand, revelling in the all-encompassing sense of him. So wonderful. So perfect.

You whine when he releases you, forcing you to burrow back beneath the thick duvet, curling into the small patch of warmth you’ve managed to accumulate. Eris sighs, stroking your hair before standing, moving to change out of his own clothes—more than happy to spend the evening tucked beneath the covers. Especially if it means you’ll be greedily putting your hands all over him. He knows you don’t do well with the cold, even if it’s nothing compared to the harsh blades of winter ice.

When he’s changed, he pulls back the covers. You squeal as the outside air rushes in, nipping at your skin, making it pebble with goosebumps. “Eris,” you whine, scrambling deeper into the small warmth, cowering from the cool air. “Eris hurry up. It’s freezing,” you moan, muscles tensing as you attempt to wrap the duvet tighter around your body. He snorts, “I knew it was worse than you were letting on. I told you to wear your gloves, remember? Next time tell me when you start to get cold. I’ll warm you up.”

You huff begrudgingly, rolling onto your side, facing away from him—even though you know he’s right. He laughs softly at your antics, then the mattress dips, and strong arms are wrapping over your hips, pressing beneath your waist as you’re dragged back into his chest. As soon as his skin touches yours, the fight seeps from you. Instead you roll back over, tucking yourself close, hands greedily groping at his sturdy muscle, revelling in his scent. Slightly smoky, with the crispness of autumn frost, the slight tang of roasted chestnuts twining with the sweetness of apples cooked in brown sugar.

“Come closer,” you mumble, lips brushing against his collar bones, nosing at his throat. The soft breath of his chuckle tickles your pointed ear, “I’m as close as I can get. Are you still cold?” You nod, just a small dip of your head. Instantly the bed warms, heat radiating from his skin, heating you until you no longer feel the need to cling so tight to him.

Eris senses the way your muscles melt, how your fingertips have softened and your breaths are deeper. Less tense, no longer so quick or shallow. He wraps you tighter, enjoying your scent, allowing you to sink into his bones.

You tuck deeper into him, enjoying the feel of having him all to yourself. With nothing else to worry about. No gossiping handmaids, no peeping servants, no overbearing courtiers. Just you and him.

“Eri?” You mumble, lips warm and soft against his skin, a faint tickle coming from your breath as it skates across him. He hums in response, and you feel it rattle through your bones, biting back a soft purr. Stay on track. “What shall we do tomorrow?” You ask drowsily, fighting to stay awake with the all-around comfort he innately provides. “What do you want to do?” He replies softly, eyes shut, content to bask in the moment.

Your brow furrows, and you manage to sleepily glare at him. “We’re here because you’re overworking yourself,” you mumble. “You needed a break, so it’s your choice. What do you want to do?”

Hands grip your waist, sliding a little lower, “you.” He pinches your ass, making you squeak, then poke him in the ribs. You press your cold toes to his calves, and he hisses. “I thought you said I was here to relax,” he fires at you, pushing you across the mattress then tugging the duvet back to his body.

“Eris!” You snap, scrambling back across the bed, burrowing into the heat, desperate to escape the cold. “Eris, that was cruel,” you snipe, pushing him onto his back, letting you crawl on top of him. “Attacking me in my own bed is cruel,” he counters, helping you straddle his hips. “Twice, I might add.”

“You should have taken my question a bit more seriously,” you grunt, lying flat across his chest, the soft swell of your breasts pressing against him delightfully.

His hand slides to the nape of your neck, threading through your hair, guiding you to look up at him. “Do you think I was joking, lovely vixen?” Heat flushes your cheeks at the pet name—it doesn’t come out unless he wants to make things messy. “No…” you mumble. He’s spent long enough showing how much he desires you, that you don’t doubt him.

Hell, if the tables were reversed…

“But that’s something you can have whenever you want,” you mumble, eyes flickering about as he watches you hungrily. “So pick something else—something you don’t normally get the opportunity to do, at least.”

A neatly groomed brow arches, “you’d like me to get creative, then?” You flush, staring at him, heart beating heavily in your chest. Sure he can feel it. “Eris…” you murmur, lowly, feeling the beginnings of something hot and liquid coalescing in the pit of your belly.

“You’ve always been so sensitive to temperature, haven’t you?” He drawls, fingertips dancing teasingly down the notches of your spine. Teeth bite lightly into your lower lip, “whatever you’re thinking, stop it. Now.” You don’t really want him to, though. He’s already got you wrapped around his finger. You’ll probably do whatever he ends up asking you to.

Eris’ lips quirk, and your sex heats in response. A tingle tracing back up your spine as his hand moves lower, settling over your ass, gripping, groping and squeezing. “Eris…” It’s supposed to be a hiss, but comes out more like a whimper. “Want to know what we’ll be doing tomorrow, lovely vixen?” He purrs, fingers slipping between your thighs. You remain quiet, and he knows he’s won.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to open the windows in the kitchen, and you’re going to lie on the table,” he murmurs, stroking the intimate skin of your upper legs. “You’re going to take all your clothes off, so you’re extra sensitive to the cold, and you’re going to stay completely still as I warm you up on my own.”

You’re not sure you’ll be able to cool down, embers igniting in the pit of your belly, want thrumming between your thighs.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it nice for you,” he hums, retracting his hand, bringing it back up and you nearly whimper. “Give you a nice, hot meal. Light some candles. Run a bath for you after…” Caramel eyes gleam, “maybe the candles will come in use, during.” Warmth flushes your cheeks as you find yourself anticipating tomorrow's dawn.

“You’re unfair, Eris,” you mumble onto his chest, knowing he’s not going to give you anymore stimulation until tomorrow. Even if you beg for it. “Unfair?” He echoes, a lilt to his voice, “you wanted me to do something I don’t usually get the opportunity to.”

“I meant choose something like bake a pie together…read together…go on a walk…something more mundane.”

“Fine, let’s bake a pie, go for a walk, then eat it when we get back over a book,” he responds, stroking your hair affectionately.

“No,” you say hurriedly, “we can do what you wanted. That’s why we’re here, after all. I won’t get in your way.”

He laughs again, squeezing your sides, calling a smile to your lips. Setting kisses across his skin, gentle whispers of affection.

How lucky he is to have this time with you.

To have this secretive space, where it’s just you two together, and he can shut out the rest of the world.

Only for a short while, but it’s worth it.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb