#autumn drabbles | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astralnymphh · 1 month ago

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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!

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prettytoxicrevolver · 1 month ago

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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.”

#luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes drabble #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #new jersey devils x reader #new jersey devils imagine #prettytoxicrevolver autumn fics 2k24 #prettytoxicrevolver fic

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hotluncheddie · 1 month ago

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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

#me writing this: Americans say fall Americans say fall…. don't care autumn pretty #:3 #hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #drabble #steddie spooktober #chubby eddie munson #he gets old and becomes a bear u can’t take that from me #drabbles #steddiespooktober

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tetskuro · 2 months ago

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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

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hauntedrose555 · 4 months ago

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I actually NEED a tate langdon bf

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thisblogisaboutabook · 11 months ago

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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.

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theorphicangel · 1 year ago

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#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

#angel’s late night drabbles #I wanna write a series about this #with autumn vibes #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #attack on titan #levi x you #snk levi #aot levi #aot x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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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.

#autumn drabbles #to write #autumn

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grogusmum · 2 months ago

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Happy almost Fall, Hazel! I'm so ready.

How about sweater, bonfire, and Frankie? your choice for genre.

Maggie, my sweet! I am ready, too. Here is a tiny ficlet, like an amuse bouche, just to tempt our taste buds. Thank you for sending my this request! 💚

HARVEST MOON

FRANKIE MORALES X GN! READER

(Harvest Moon by Neil Young)

Your fingers slipped under the hem of Frankie's oatmeal fisherman's sweater from behind. You feel more than hear his pleased rumbling hum.

Placing your chin on his shoulder, you squint at the blaze as it snaps and hisses, the moon rising behind it.

Music is drifting dreamily in the air, mixing with the smell of the fire and the earthy sweet musk of the dying leaves. Franking twists to face you, blocking the bonfire, your eyes adjust to the lowlight, to behold his eyes, warm and dark. His hands rest on your hips momentarily before sliding to your lower back, pressing you impossibly close. His hips begin to sway, and yours can't resist following.

Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon...

autumn drabble word prompts

#frankie morales #frankie morales ficlet #autumn prompts #autumn drabbles

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year ago

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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

#Eris #Eris Vanserra #Eris fluff #Eris Vanserra fluff #Eris x reader #Eris Vanserra x reader #Drabble #Eris x reader fluff #Eris Drabble #Eris Vanserra x reader fluff #Autumn Frost #September

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milkbobatyun · 2 months ago

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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 milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #zhongli fluff #x reader #zhongli #genshin #mid autumn festival #genshin impact drabbles #dragon zhongli #zhongli x you

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selarina · 2 months ago

Text

True Blue

→ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader (Series Masterlist)

Chapter 3: The Party

Summary: Back home after your first year of university, you try to spend the bone-dry heat of summer with your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, but restrictions prevail.

Content Warning: college bf!gojo, fluff, light angst, established relationship, birthday, implied parental issues, class differences, gojo is rich, casual violence (mentioned), social anxiety, reader and gojo are business majors (for now lol)

Word Count: 3.9k words

Author's Note: happy end of summer!! played cigarettes after sex the entire time i wrote this

Taglist: Open

In all honesty, you had expected Gojo to immediately whisk you away into a secluded corner of his house, and rid you of your clothes, blaming the summer heat or something just as ridiculous in the process. But instead, you were witnessing a far different side of him, it was baffling. Like he’s Jekyll and this version of him is Hyde in all his unfamiliar glory. He’s restrained, and poised. He’s not slinking his hands about as he speaks, they remain steady. It was jarring, to say the least.

He was speaking of politics— and a joke? They’re all laughing, so it must be.

You aren’t really listening, you’re far too busy raking through your eyes the crowd, watching the audience he’s garnered in all their collective gaze. It was such an odd thing to witness, the way they all hung onto his every word, as though something unseen and magnetic held their vision in place.

You understood them though in a way. Of course, you did.

A waiter, dressed in a two-piece suit, quietly delivers another bottle of whiskey to the people near the couch. You hadn’t touched a drop, as you found yourself far too anxious to trust a drink in your hand or in your body. The crowd made you feel exposed, you felt seen in every muscle you moved.

Your eyes flit out to the only open window in the big hall — a breeze coming in through there, and you felt you wanted to walk eastward towards it and walk through the soft twilight of the balcony. But you refrained, it would be impolite. You weren’t sure what kind of rules were in place in this crowd, but you could tell it was different from what you were accustomed to.

You felt severely underdressed for starters. That was your tell. There seemed to be an unspoken theme you didn’t know about but perhaps that’s your fault for dropping by to surprise. Why would Satoru indulge in themes for a party if he didn’t know you were making it too? It makes sense, but you wish he had slipped out just once, so you could have prepared. Now, you felt severely plain when standing beside the fancier dolls in the room.

A warm hand enveloped yours, pulling you from your thoughts. You turned, your eyes meeting the face of a slender woman. Her face looked ghostly, otherworldly, with a complexion of powdered milky white.

“Mrs. Gojo,” you recognised.

“Hello, dear,” she smiled. This marked the first time you were seeing her in person. You had seen her only in photographs before, countless of them. Satoru adored his mother. She seemed like a worldly and kind woman somehow. You could tell at just first glance.

"Hello," you replied, your voice catching as though nerves had tangled in your throat.

“You missed the memo, it seems,” she remarked, though there was no sharpness in her tone, merely a simple observation. It didn’t seem like judgment, but it still left you a bit embarrassed.

“Yeah,” you laugh an artificial laugh. "This was all very last minute on my part, so I wasn’t aware of the theme."

“No worries at all,” she reassured you, a poshness in her voice. Her hand rubbed softly against your bicep. “I could dazzle you up if you let me— a few accessories, perhaps a hairclip. That’s all it takes if you ask me.”

The thought of being alone with Gojo’s mother unsettled you, but you nodded with a polite smile. “That’s very kind of you. I would love that.”

—

“So, Satoru tells me you’ve been seeing each other for about a year,” she begins, her voice mild but intent.

The interrogation begins, you think cruelly.

“Yes,” you answer, sitting before the mirror as his mother works your hair into shape. She promises it’ll be lovely, and you’ll have to trust her because, from this angle, you can’t see much of anything. “Almost a year in three months, if I’m not wrong.”

“Ah,” she lets out a soft laugh. “That’s reassuring.”

“What is?” A pause. “Ma’am,” you add, too quickly, and too late.

She hums, amused. “You pick things up fast. It’s just, well, he hasn’t kept a relationship longer than the milk in our fridge, so I suppose I’m just surprised. And relieved, really. I’m sure he’s told you about all his past escapades.”

“He has,” you answer with a small, strained laugh. “I’m just happy to be of service.”

“All done,” she announces, patting your hair lightly. “Would you like to see?”

“Yes,” you reply, though bemused. “But I can’t really see the back of my own head.” You try for humor.

“I’ll take a picture for you, dear. Hold still now.”

Click.

“Here,” she brings her hand forward as your eyes focus on the somewhat blurry picture in front of you. The phone looked ancient. For someone with such a huge manor, you would think they could afford the latest, but you knew how old people were – stubborn and for the routine of things. You think you’ll be one of them too. Back to the picture it looked beautiful, she put a gold hair net thing on your head, and it just elevated everything about your appearance even if you couldn't see it yourself

“It’s… beautiful. Thank you, Mrs. Gojo.”

“You’re very welcome,” she says softly. “Now I really must head back, but I think you can take a minute for yourself before rejoining the others.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to be rude.”

“Nonsense,” she says, sternly. “If the birthday boy’s partner wants to stay in the room for a minute longer she can. Don’t worry about the crowd, I’ll have their tongues if they’re mean to you.”

The casual violence of her words is almost shocking, delivered so gently. It makes sense, though—like mother, like son.

“Alright,” you murmur, grateful. “Just a moment.” You watch her retreat, leaving you with your thoughts.

—

You took your minute, and then, as if your body had conspired against you, you drifted back to the party. Slowly, like a sloth, you moved until you reached the first approachable figure and struck up a conversation. The woman—tall, immaculately put together—turned with a ready smile. It was just too easy — this woman was a natural conversationalist. She spoke of her years at the bank, and just as easily got you to confess your future plans of assisting your mother, of starting your own business — what a miracle of a woman really.

She advised you too. It was really not all that informative, just things you’ve already heard before, but you found yourself grateful nonetheless. If only because she relieved the stress in your muscles, they were lax now.

“Mrs. Lee,” you hear a familiar voice from behind you. “I see you’ve met my beautiful, breathtaking girlfriend.” He finishes as his hand comes to grab your own, before placing a kiss on the back of your hand, eyes intently watching you.

“Oh my,” the lady in front of you gushes on your behalf. “Young love in all its glory. You’ve got a remarkable girlfriend here, Gojo. She’s ambitious and sharp. You better be kind to her, you twerp.”

He laughed, that easy sound you’d heard a thousand times. “I try my best, Mrs. Lee. Now — Do you mind if I steal her away, I haven’t seen her in years.”

And just like that it was just the two of you — not in actual terms, but with Satoru, your mind tended to blur out the rest.

“Hi,” you said, your voice soft, like you were waking from a dream.

“Hi,” he says, smiling back lazily.

“Hi,” you say again. Not really sure what to say next.

“Hi,” he said again. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d surprise you. Get the upper hand for once.”

“You’ve always had the upper hand,” he said like it was a fact too obvious to contest.

“That’s not true,” you reply, defiant.

“It’s true, and it will always be true. Now give your poor tired boyfriend a kiss.”

And so, you do. Despite the crowd.

The kiss wasn’t deep, restrained in a way that was unlike him. It seems Satoru may have found some shame after all. He stops kissing you but doesn't move further away from your lips. You can feel his breath upon your face, right on the side of your nose.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you say back, your hand still rooted in his hair, at his nape. “What tires my poor boyfriend anyway?”

“Why? You willing to fight the dragons.”

“The dragons wouldn’t dare fight me anyway.”

He chuckles. “No, ma’am. They wouldn’t.” A pause as his gaze lingered. “I like the gold in your hair,” he said, voice lowering. “Noticed it when you came back in.”

Your hand reached up, brushing the adornment lightly. “It’s your mother’s. She offered to put it on me.”

His eyes light up immediately. “She did? Wait — You met my mother already? I wanted to see you meet her. I can’t believe I missed it,” he frowns.

“Aw,” you say. “I can always tell you how it went.”

“How did it go?”

“She saved me — this crowd is…” You look around, gathering all the prim and poised figures.

“Pretentious?” he suggested, blunt as ever.

“I was going to say intimidating,” you corrected him, though his assessment wasn’t necessarily far off. You liked it though. The drama, the properness of it all — there was something about it.

“Please,” he scoffed. “They’re all insufferable, a bunch of stuck-up, overindulged jerks. Wine’s good, though. Need me to get you a glass?”

“Satoru,” you said, cutting him off, “I got you something. For your birthday.”

His face shifted, softer. “You being here is all I need. Don’t need anything else, this makes up for five birthdays at least.”

“You’re being dramatic again,” you say.“I’ll give it to you after the party—if you can find time for me. But it’s okay if you can’t. There’s always tomorrow.”

“No,” he says, bending down to leave a soft kiss against the edge of your mouth. “I’ll make time.”

“Okay,” you murmured. “Now go talk to that couple over there. They’ve been staring for ages—it’s creeping me out.”

He salutes you as he makes his way over and across.

—

"Ready?" you ask, seated behind the wheel, the evening air softly settling around you. “So, where are we going?”

“Nowhere special,” you replied, turning the key with a little growl from the engine. “But I’d still rather not tell you until we get there.”

He tilted his head, mock suspicion painted on his face. “The suspense, the mystery, the build-up…” He gasped dramatically. “You’re trying to steal my job, aren’t you?”

“Guilty,” you say, dry as dust.

“There can only be one of us,” he quipped.

“Well, you can just kill me. Skin me. Wear my face as your own and pretend until you’re caught.” The words spilled out, strange, unsettling, even to your ears.

“Why are you like this?” he asked, his tone flat, but there was amusement beneath it.

“I really, truly don’t know,” you replied, bewildered by the way your mind wandered into strange corners.

“I love it,” he says, sounding a little too close to the words you’ve been fearing, so you brush it off with a chuckle.

“So, how long until we get to this ‘nowhere special but surprise’ place?” he asked, settling into his seat, limbs sprawling too long for the cramped space. You hope this ride doesn’t cause his back to ache.

“Half an hour, tops,” you said. “You can pick the music.”

“What?” He gasps again, mockingly scandalized. “Pinch me, so I know this is real.”

“It’s your birthday,” you shrug. “It’s the least I could do.”

He grinned — languid and lazy — a smile that makes you want to hit the brakes, stop the car, and kiss him stupid. But alas, you were a sane woman, on a mission so you drove on.

A few turns, a handful of bends in the road, and you’re there. Somewhere along the way, you’d asked him to cover his eyes, and, with a rare compliance, he obeyed—though not without protest. Now, as the car halts, he’s still singing a Lady Gaga song, his eyes squeezed shut for your benefit.

And so when the car halted as you helped him step out.

“Ta-da,” you say, monotone. “The closest beach to the town — probably one you’ve been to a million times.”

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he says — “The sunset looks really pretty.”

“It does,” you say, turning to look at the pink, orange hues in the vast horizon past the sea. “It’s really pretty.”

“So, this is my gift? I could die a happy man.”

And you think, to your surprise, that he actually means it. There’s something startling in the way he says it—so earnest, it unnerves you. “No—what do you take me for?” you mutter, pulling the picnic basket from the backseat, heavy with fruits, yogurt, chips, and a meticulously folded blanket, the kind you only bother with for these sorts of things. "I got you something, but help me set up first."

He takes the blanket, and sets it up for the two of you to sit, as you grab his present from the backseat. Then he drops down onto the left side, legs sprawled, arms braced behind him as he stares out towards the sea.

You seat yourself beside him, since you are in a dress, you try to bend and adjust so you aren’t flashing the outside world with your indecency, despite your shorts beneath the dress.

“So…” you start, voice feeling too quiet against the roaring waves, as you hand him the jar. “Here’s your gift.”

His fingers brush against the glass, and you watch his eyes lower, briefly lingering on the cold surface, before lifting them to meet yours. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” you said.

And you did. You’d made the ridiculous decision to indulge his craving, driving almost two towns over to Al’s for his favorite cookies. Four, if you counted the miles from your grandmother’s. And all before noon, as if there weren’t a hundred better ways to waste a morning.

But you did. You did because you had decided the necklace you got him didn’t measure up. Not when the one he gifted you for 6 months, had real gems on them.

You hope this makes up for it. Not materially, but the sentiments at least. You swear when you’re rich, you’ll splurge on this boy all you can, but for now, you cut your losses.

“Thank you,” he says, setting the jar aside. “For driving all the way there.”

“The town’s so creepy and dead,” you say.

“It is, baby. It is.” He leans in, his lips brushing against yours. “And you drove there. For me.”

“It’s whatever,” you mumble, pulling back with a small smile. “Let’s eat.”

The waves keep crashing, the sun low in the sky, casting a honey-gold light over everything. You hear the slow crinkle of the jar’s lid being unscrewed. Then his laugh. It makes you mush. It always does, but it feels heavier now somehow. You feel there’s something about being in the ocean that charges the atmosphere with something different, perhaps that is what’s it.

He pulls out one of the cookies, breaks it in half, and hands you a piece. His fingers brush against yours again. You accept graciously, as the two of you eat in utter silence, barring the sound of the waves.

“You spoil me,” he murmurs, taking a bite. His eyes never leave yours.

You smile faintly, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “You deserve it,” you say, leaning back on your elbows, your body sinking into the blanket. You tilt your head, gaze tracing the horizon where the sky meets the water, a blurry, infinite line.

His hand finds your thigh, his thumb moving lazily in circles against the fabric of your dress, as he leans back onto his elbows too, to kiss you. This time it’s deep. His lips are hard on your mouth, as though you feel every contour of the molding of his mouth moving against yours.

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips.

“Hi,” you reply, voice barely there.

“Thank you for the gift,” he says. “No one’s been this good to me in a while. You put a lot of time into this.”

You don’t say anything. Not sure what one can say without being cheesy. But if you were to say anything, you’d say it was nothing, not when you can see him beaming down at you like this, all dazed, all into you.

“I love you,” he says then. And your heart flits harshly against your chest.

“What?”

“I wanted— I’ve been wanting to say it for a while,” he says, his thumb brushing against your hips. “In the car, and 2 months ago when you slept over after mid-terms. But I didn’t want to freak you out.”

You blink, your pulse quickening, the moment hanging between you, suspended.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says, his voice careful, and guarded.

“I do,” you say, the words tumbling out. “I do love you. I love you.” You mean it, and it terrifies you a little, but he’s smiling now.

“Oh,” he grins, as he smushes into you, mouth first, tasting like salt and something sweeter.

“I love you,” he says again, voice low against your skin.

“I love you,” you say back, giggling.

And then, he shifts—his body pulling away from you, the sudden absence of his warmth as chilling as the winds that whip across the beach. He sits up, dragging you with him.

“I have something else to tell you,” he says, and there’s a shift in his voice too—serious now, something grounded in his tone.

“What is it?” you ask, cautiously setting your mind for this, since he’s sounding serious in tone and stature. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he starts, hesitant, like he’s picking his words carefully. “I might drop out of college.”

“What?” The word feels like a punch, sharp and sudden. “Why?”

“I don’t care for it,” he says, his voice too casual, too careless.

“You don’t care for... an education?”

“Just business,” he clarifies. “I don’t really care about it. I want a change.”

Something mean, something bitter starts to rise in you, but you bite it down.

“A change to what?” you ask, calmly — your tone now guarded, your expression carefully neutral.

“I don’t know,” he says, and it’s the ease with which he admits it that grates at you. He doesn’t know, and he’s fine with not knowing. You don’t understand.

“What do you mean? You must want something else if you don’t want to do business, right?”

He turns to you then, and realises he should’ve predicted this, really. You loved plans, and you loved sticking to them. And this was was anything but that. He had a plan and he doesn’t want it. That’s bad enough. And now he doesn’t even have a new plan.

“Not really. I don’t know — I don’t want to do business, that’s all I know,” he says again, frustration creeping into his voice.

“Well,” you say, a little colder now, “you should probably figure that out.”

“Oh, really? Thanks, I had no idea that’s what I had to do.”

“Hey,” you say, softening your tone, trying to pull the edge out of the conversation. “I’m just trying to help. I just don’t like this situation for you.”

“I’m doing fine,” he says, trying to assure you that he hadn’t completely lost track of reality. “Dad hates this, but apart from that, no one really cares. There are so many options. I could change courses, take a gap year, intern—lots of things. You’re the only one bothered besides him.”

“Right,” you say, and that bitterness rises again, sharp and acidic in the back of your throat. “I forgot—you’re a Gojo.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he says.

“It means you can drop out and still be fine. So I don’t have to worry about you.”

“So you don’t care that I’m dropping out?”

"I care, Satoru," you say, but it feels as though your voice is coming from some distant place now, a place he can’t reach. "Apparently, you don’t. You’re making this decision like it’s nothing."

“I’m not,” he snaps. “I’ve been unhappy for a while with the course. There’s no point in doing something I hate.”

“But to not have a backup plan? How can you make a decision like that?”

He looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like he doesn’t understand. You see the distance between you—his nonchalance, your need for structure—stretching wide.

“Can we— I told you because it’s a big decision. I’ll figure it out by the end of summer,” he says. “But I wanted to let you know. I expected the judgement but trust me a little?”

“Okay,” you say. “I just — I would never be able to do what you’re doing.”

“I know, and I could never do what you’re doing. It would kill me.”

“Okay,” you say, suddenly feeling shitty. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I trust you.” You bend forward leaving a kiss at the edge of his lips.

You sit in silence then — the wind getting colder and colder against your skin. The food growing staler, and it’s almost night now. The sun has set and you sit there, serene now, listening to the waves.

You glance at him. His gaze fixed on the horizon, the sea’s dark expanse stretching out, infinite. His hair ruffling gently in the wind, and you notice the goosebumps pricking at his arms. It’s time.

“We should head back,” you say. “Your mother has a dinner planned, doesn’t she?”

He groans, his head falling back. “I don’t want to go.”

“But food,” you say simply, knowing that all the food in the world wouldn’t excite him to meet his family, and his extended family for a night of festivities.

He turns to you, his eyes catching yours in the fading light. “I don’t want to go,” he repeats, quieter now, more real. “You’ll be busy with work soon. You’ll forget all about me.”

“Always so dramatic.” You move now, your limbs feeling heavy from the lack of motion. You move and straddle him now, his hands move to your waist in an immediate response. “You’re very hard to forget, Gojo Satoru.”

“Say more,” he says, smiling, beaming through his teeth. His cheeks alight red.

"No," you say, leaning back. "We should go."

"I’ll move if you give me compliments on the way back," he bargains, like a child.

“Or I could leave you here,” you say, titling your head. “All by your lonesome.”

“What a cruel, cruel woman you are,” he says, feigning a frown again.

“Let’s go,” you say now, feeling more and more convinced to stay here.

“Let’s just stay here forever,” he says, ever so ambitious. There’s a strange sincerity in his voice, to do the impossible.

You laugh, a brief, fleeting sound. "We wouldn’t survive long." You peer into the nearly empty picnic basket. "On just... Pringles."

"I could fish," he suggests, smiling again, "like in The Blue Lagoon. Build you a house out of driftwood.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d try.”

#college bf!gojo #meh kinda hate this but i wanna write gojo and reader in autumn so #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader angst #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader angst #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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