#i guess we know for sure autumn is finally here

[misiahasahardname]

i love my classical studies teacher... bro bought chainmail armour for no reason, let us hold it to see how heavy it is, put it on, and then got stuck in it and had to leave the class to get another teacher to help him take it off 😭

[theonottsbxtch]

hey! please could you write a 🔥 charles leclerc

7 MINUTES | CL16

an: this celeb really has me writing for people i've never written for but here you go! rushed and not proof read lol i wanna go to bed

summary: 7 minutes in heaven, max's sister, what could possibly go wrong?

warnings: heavy make out session

wc: 3k

You were sitting on the edge of the couch, legs tucked under you, watching as the last of the sunlight fades beyond the horizon. The air still smells like autumn — damp leaves, bonfires, that kind of thing — and you can hear the muffled voices of the boys from the kitchen. They’d been drinking for hours, celebrating the end of the season. Your brother, Max , the life of every gathering, was at the centre of it all, recounting the race from last weekend like a war story for those who had missed his and Lando’s close race.

Inside the living room, the atmosphere was cosy but charged, the kind of energy that only came when the season was over and there was nothing left to lose. Someone had opened a second bottle of whiskey, and you were pretty sure it was Charles. He was sprawled out on the recliner, arm dangling over the side, his laugh loud and carefree. Across from him, Lando and Daniel were huddled together on the floor, passing around a bowl of chips like they were planning something.

Then it happened. Daniel’s eyes lit up, his smirk growing wider as he sat up straighter. "You know what we haven’t done in ages?" he said, voice slick with mischief. "Seven minutes in heaven."

You laughed, and so did a few others, but there was  that undeniable flicker of curiosity that ran through the group of you that were in the room. This was a game you used to play in secondary school, maybe year nine if you were brave, but you’d all grown up since then. Still, the alcohol had loosened everyone’s reservations, and you could see the suggestion hanging in the air, waiting to catch fire.

“Oh, come on, we’re not twelve,” Max groaned, walking in at the perfect time but even you could see a spark in his eyes that said he was not really protesting.

Daniel shrugged, still grinning. "Exactly, we’re not twelve. So why not make it interesting?"

You could feel a ripple of unease and excitement in your chest as you glanced around the room. People were starting to perk up now, their curiosity mirroring yours. And before you knew it, Carlos’ empty beer bottle was in the middle of the floor, everyone forming a loose circle around it like it was an unspoken agreement.

Your close friend Lu, had chosen to go first, the bottle spun lazily, catching the dim light from the string of bulbs hanging above the living room. The room felt smaller now, more intimate, as if everyone’s breath was synchronised, waiting for fate to land on someone. Your stomach twisted, a mix of nerves and excitement, and you wonder if anyone else felt the same fluttering tension.

It slowed, dragging the moment out. The neck wobbled a few times, then finally came to rest, pointing directly at Lando.

She grinned, all too pleased with the outcome. “Guess I’m first,” she said, pushing herself up from the floor with the grace of someone who was not nearly as drunk as the rest of them. She casted a sideways glance at Lando, who just smirked and shrugged, ready for whatever came next.

You felt Max’s eyes on you from across the circle, and you shot him a quick look — the kind that said, This is ridiculous, right? But he just smirked, raising his beer in mock salute, clearly enjoying the chaos that was about to unfold.

“Okay, Lando,” Lu teaseed, leaning toward him with a playful tilt of her head. “I think you’re my lucky partner.”

Lando let out a fake groan, but there was a spark in his eyes as he got up. “You sure? I mean, I could take a rain check…”

Everyone laughed, the tension breaking slightly as Lando and Lu disappeared into the hallway, heading for the coat closet like this is still some high school party. But the tension crept right back in as the door closed behind them.

It had only been thirty seconds, but it felt like the room was holding its breath. You sat there, heart racing even though it was not your turn, and wondered what happened next. You’d known these people for years — grown up alongside a few of them, watched your brother and his friends live out their reckless racing dreams — but now the whole vibe had shifted. It was almost like you were all teetering on the edge of something new, something dangerous.

The minutes dragged on. The muffled laughter from behind the door made everyone exchange knowing looks, but no one said anything. Then Lu’d voice called out, “Time’s up!” and the door swung open.

Lu stepped out first, her hair slightly tousled, a grin on her face like she’d gotten away with something. Lando followed, looking slightly flushed but otherwise composed. “Well,” he said, glancing around the room, “that was... enlightening.”

Everyone laughed again, a little louder this time, but you could feel the anticipation growing. Lu took her seat, and Daniel leaned forward, reaching for the bottle with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Your turn, mini Verstappen,” he said, and suddenly all eyes were on you. When Daniel had offered this game, you briefly had the idea that he was trying to pester Max, making him watch his little sister go into a small room with one of the guys of the paddock. In a room where he couldn’t do anything to stop anyone. So when Daniel passed you the bottle, you knew exactly that was his intention.

You froze for half a second, trying to brush off the nervous thrill that shot through you. “Oh no, not me,” you started to protest, but you knew it was too late. The game had a life of its own now.

The bottle clinked as you gave it a half arsed spin, and you swore it felt like the world slowed down again. The air was thick with curiosity, everyone waiting to see who fate would pick this time.

And then it stopped. Right on Charles.

You glanced up, locking eyes with him. Charles Leclerc, your brother’s biggest rival, the one who you definitely should never get with, the one who’s always wound up your brother, who knew more than he let on. His brow quirked up, just slightly, and his lips curled into a soft, unreadable smile.

For a moment, the world felt too small, the air too warm. Daniel chuckled, almost as if he had planned it. “Well, this should be interesting.”

Charles stood up, and before you even realised it, you were on your feet too, heart pounding in your throat. You forced a laugh, trying to play it cool, but you could feel the weight of every gaze on your back as you followed him toward the hallway.

Then Max shot up, “She can’t go in there with him, come on mate.” He said looking at Charles then at the rest of the group whose eyes were too locked on you and Charles. “That’s my little sister.” 

As you opened your mouth to reply, Lando stood up and looked at Max. “The rules are the rules, and unfortunately for you the rules mean your sister needs to go into that closet with Charles.” Lando then towards Max and pushed him back down onto the floor where he was previously sat. A small laugh went through the group as they looked back at you and reminded you to go towards the closet.

The door was barely closed when the silence hit. Charles leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his green eyes scanning your face. "So," he said softly, his voice cutting through the stillness, making sure no one could hear, "seven minutes."

You swallowed, leaning against the opposite wall, unsure of what to say. It felt like the world outside had faded, the only sound was the steady thrum of your pulse in your ears. There was something unspoken hanging in the air between you, a tension that had been there for longer than you’d like to admit, but neither of you had ever dared to acknowledge it. Until now.

“Well,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper, “what do we do with them?”

The air inside the closet felt thicker than it should, the dim light from the hallway casting just enough of a glow under the door to catch the intensity in Charles’ eyes. Your back pressed against the wall, and you could hear your own breath coming a little too fast, the silence between you loaded with all the things neither of you had said until now.

Charles took a slow step forward, closing the distance, his presence filling the small space. He was not touching you yet, but it felt like he was everywhere, the heat radiating from him making your pulse race. His eyes flickered over your face, searching for any sign of hesitation, but you didn’t give him one. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the game, or maybe it was something you’d been pretending not to feel for a long time.

His hand came up, brushing lightly against your arm, sending a shiver through you. Then, in a sudden, fluid motion, he cupped your face, pulling you toward him. His lips crashed against yours, firm but not forceful, and it was like every thought in your head vanished, replaced by the sheer intensity of the moment.

You responded immediately, fingers threading through his hair as you kissed him back, your whole body pressing against his as if you were trying to make up for lost time. The world outside the closet didn’t exist anymore — it was just the two of you, tangled up in each other. His lips are soft but urgent, like he’d been holding this back for far too long.

He pulled back just enough for a sharp breath, his forehead resting against yours. His voice was rough, low, like he’d barely be able to keep it together. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that, mon ange” he murmured, his lips brushing yours again, making your heart skip a beat.

You smiled against his mouth, your voice barely a whisper. “Then why didn’t you?”

His hands slid down your waist, pulling you even closer, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he leant in again, his lips tracing a path along your jaw. “Didn’t think it was a good idea,” he admitted softly between kisses, his mouth now teasing the skin just beneath your ear, sending a jolt of heat down your spine. “Still don’t,” he added with a soft chuckle, but there was no trace of hesitation in the way he was kissing you now.

“Why?” you whispered, trying to suppress a moan as you tugged him closer, lost in the moment, your mind spinning, body pressed tight against his. The feel of his hands, the taste of whiskey on his lips, the way your bodies fit together in this impossibly small space—it was all overwhelming, intoxicating. Every kiss was hungrier than the last, his fingers gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away, but neither of you were going anywhere.

“Because now I’ve had you once, I’m going to want you forever.” He replied in a raspy voice.

The sound of footsteps passing in the hallway broke through the haze for just a moment, but Charles didn’t stop, his kisses trailing down your neck as his hands tightened their hold on you, and you realised how badly you’d wanted this too.

The footsteps faded, but the sound barely registered. All you could focus on was Charles — the way his lips moved against your skin, the heat of his hands gripping your waist like he’d been starving for this. Each kiss felt more urgent, more desperate, and you let yourself fall into it, the thrill of finally crossing a line you didn’t know you’d been tiptoeing around for so long.

Your fingers slid under his shirt, grazing the smooth skin of his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as his breath hitched. That small reaction sent a surge of confidence through you, and you pulled him even closer, wanting more, needing more. He groaned softly, his hands travelling up your sides, fingers digging in as if he was trying to ground himself in the reality of this moment.

“I didn’t think you—” His words were cut off by another kiss, deeper this time, his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in. You weren’t sure what he was going to say, but it didn't matter. The way his body was pressed against yours told you everything.

It was electric — the feeling of his lips parting against yours, his breath mixing with yours as the kiss deepened, growing more intense, more heated. You lost track of time in the tangle of it all, your bodies moving together like they’d been waiting for this, like this is what they were meant for. Every second felt like it was teetering on the edge of control, the space between you disappearing as if it had never existed in the first place.

Charles broke away, panting, his forehead pressed against yours again. His voice is ragged, low and strained with want. “You... really have no idea how hard it’s been, pretending like this wasn’t... exactly what I’ve wanted.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt the heat rise in your chest as his words sank in. You reached up, tracing the edge of his jaw with your thumb, heart pounding in your ears. “Then stop pretending.”

Something shifted in his gaze, something raw and powerful. His lips crashed back against yours with renewed intensity, a fire now blazing between you, the last of any hesitation burned away. His hands roamed freely now, gripping, pulling, like he was making up for all the times he’d held back. Your back pressed harder into the wall, but you didn’t care. You were lost in the feel of him, in the way his lips trailed down to your collarbone, in the sound of his breath ragged against your skin.

Your name left his lips in a whisper, like a prayer, like it had been waiting there for years, and hearing it sent a thrill through you. You pulled him closer, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, wanting to feel every inch of him. His hands slipped under your shirt, his touch scorching as his fingers trail up your back, sending sparks down your spine as he played with your bra.

“You are heavenly,” he breathed against your neck, and you could feel the heat of his words, the truth of them, in every kiss, every touch. “Utterly heavenly.”

He’d said you hadn’t known how long he’d needed this but you did. Because now that you were here, with him, you realise you’d been wanting it too — maybe even longer than he had.

Just as his lips found yours again, there was a sharp knock on the closet door, startling you both. Daniel’s voice, muffled but unmistakable, cut through the haze. “Time’s up, lovebirds. Don’t make me open this door.”

You froze, breath caught, the spell broken for a split second. Charles chuckled softly, his forehead resting against yours again, his breathing still heavy. “Guess we’ll have to hit pause.”

Your heart raced as you untangled yourselves, but before you could step back, he pulled you in for one last lingering kiss, softer this time, like a promise.

“Don’t think this is over, mon ange,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “Not even close.”

You grinned, your pulse still pounding as you tried to pull yourself together. “I’m counting on it.”

Charles let out a soft chuckle, his voice low and husky. "You should probably go first."

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

His eyes flickered down to himself, and he smirks, a little sheepishly. "Because if I walk out there like this..." He gestured toward his jeans, and you couldn’t help but notice the tension brewing once more. "Let’s just say it’s gonna be obvious what we were doing in here, and Max might not be too happy."

Heat flooded to your cheeks, and you bit back a smile. “Right.”

Charles stepped forward again, fingers brushing lightly against your arm, his gaze locked on yours. "Give me a minute, and I’ll meet you out there."

You nodded, still feeling the lingering heat between you, but you straightened your shirt and smoothed your hair as best you can, trying to act like you weren’t just tangled up with him in the small, dark closet. When you felt composed enough, you opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Immediately, all eyes were on you. Lando was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a grin on his face. “Well, well, look who’s back from heaven,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he took in your slightly dishevelled appearance. His eyes narrowed as he studied you, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You look... flustered, mini Verstappen.”

Your face burned, and you weren't too sure if it was from the kiss or from the fact that your brother’s friends could read you way too well. “Shut up, Lando,” you muttered, pushing past him, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

Just as you make it to the edge of the living room, Max’s voice cuts through, louder than anyone else in the room, as if he was just realising something. "Wait a minute. Where’s Charles? Why are you coming out first?"

You froze, and everyone turned to look toward the hallway. As if on cue, Charles stepped out a beat later, looking a little too composed compared to you, though he quickly raked a hand through his hair as if to play it off. His shirt was untucked at the back, and there was a slight flush to his face, but he managed to pull himself together.

Max narrowed his eyes suspiciously, looking between the two of you, arms still crossed. "You two weren’t... actually doing anything, were you?" He tilted his head, trying to sound casual but clearly fishing for answers.

Charles shot you a quick glance, his lips twitching like he was holding back a grin. "Don’t worry, man," he said, walking past your brother and clapping him on the shoulder. "We were just... getting to know each other better."

the end.

[lostfracturess]

not so haunted house — satoru gojo

pairing — professor gojo x female reader

summary — satoru's on a mission to get you into the halloween spirit, and he won't take no for an answer. he's taken you to the town's spooky festival, and plying you with every sugary treat and pumpkin spiced sugary drink he can find. but you draw the line with the haunted house. but knowing satoru, he'll find a way to make it happen.

word count — 4.6 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, friends), penetration, public setting, chance of getting caught, oral (male receiving), satoru gojo is always his own warning.

author's note — hey lovelies, i hope you all have the best time this autumn. and to get even more into the spooky spirit, i wrote a little oneshot sidestory for symptoms and causes couple. but you can read it as a standalone without knowing the main story. and for everyone who reads s&c, this happens sometime after chapter 16 (i guess). happy reading and a spooky time <3

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

"I don't wanna go," you said.

"Aw, come on! It'll be fun!" Satoru insisted.

"I doubt it."

"You're so lame sometimes, you know that?" 

"And you're irresponsible. We can't just ditch work to—"

"Already handled it," he interrupted, taking a big bite of his cinnamon roll.

"Handled what?"

"Cell migration, documentation, report's done, and I even got a head start on the paper. You might wanna give it a once-over later, though."

"Wait, what?" You stopped dead in my tracks, surprise momentarily eclipsing your exhaustion.

"You're the better writer when it comes to this scientific stuff."

"No, I mean—"

Satoru suddenly stopped too, turning to face you. He grinned, a big bright smile from ear to ear. He was hell-bent on getting you into the Halloween spirit, and you reluctantly agreed to go to the Autumn Festival with him, indulging in cinnamon rolls and pumpkin spice lattes.

Every second, he shoved a new treat into your hands. Try this, try that. Pretty sure you were on the fast track to diabetes after this afternoon.

But you'd drawn the line at the haunted house.

You starred at him as the flickering pumpkin lanterns that lined the path of the crowded streets cast soft shadows across his features, making him even more handsome, as if the night itself conspired to make him even more captivating.

"You finished all that already?" you asked, a hint of disbelief in your voice.

"Yeah," he said, taking another bite of his cinnamon roll. "I wanted us to have some fun in between all the lab work."

You stared at him for a second longer, the bustling activity around you fading into the background. Your heart melted a little as his signature grin lit up his pretty features.

Seeing him so carefree and childlike was new, like he was genuinely loving every second of this—the cheesy traditions, the sea of orange, the cinnamon scent that hung heavy in the air. Like for the first time in forever, the weight of his past had lifted from his broad shoulders.

"This must have taken your hours," you said, still not quite getting over how much effort he must've put in.

"Eh, a few hours here and there." He sauntered closer, peering at you over the sunglasses he wore with a baseball cap to keep a low profile. Getting caught out with your professor would've been all kinds of scandalous, after all. "Totally worth it if it means I can spend more time with you."

"We're together all the time."

"I meant outside the lab," he clarified.

"Satoru, we live together."

"Yeah, where all we talk about is work, biochemicals, brains, and how much plastic surgery Naoya would need to be pretty again."

"Don't tell me you don't love that topic," you said dryly, as a chill autumn wind rustled the leaves at your feet.

He tilted his head, his large hand coming up to cup your cheek, his warmth seeping into you. He looked at you with those soft, mesmerizing eyes, making it impossible to deny him anything.

"Okay," you finally relented with a sigh. "Let's go to that haunted house. But just so you know," you added, "I don't scare easy."

He just smiled, smug as ever. "Oh, we'll see about that."

Moments later, you were at the haunted house, Satoru's arm draped casually around your waist. He already had tickets for the two of you, like he just knew you'd give in. Smug bastard indeed. You stepped into the creaky foyer, seemingly one of the only few people there.

The air was thick with the scent of dust and decay, and an eerie silence hung heavy in the dimly lit corridors. Satoru reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll protect you."

You let go of his hand. "I don't need protection," you said before taking the lead and striding into the first room.

The first few rooms were predictably eerie, with cobwebs draped across worn furniture and ghostly figures lurking in the shadows. Flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, creating an illusion of movement in the stillness.

"Not even a little bit scared?" Satoru asked.

"Nope," you replied, popping the 'p' for emphasis.

"You're really killing the fun here, you know." 

He made his way around a corner, and suddenly, a black figure sprang forward, catching him off guard. Satoru jumped slightly, his heart pounding in his chest. "Ah, fuck," he said, trying to regain his composure. "Stupid thing." He pushed the figure aside with his arm and went into the next room.

"Oh, I'm having fun," you said with a smile.

"Don't laugh.”

As you ventured deeper into the house, the scares became more elaborate, the atmosphere more oppressive. The air grew colder, and a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach. Maybe it was a little bit scary after all.

Then, a blood-curdling scream echoed from the room ahead, and you and Satoru whipped around, but nothing was to be seen.

"You know, I was hoping for something different when I had the idea to come here.”

"And what kind were you hoping for?" you asked, pushing the spiderwebs out of your way with disgust, the silky strands clinging to your fingers.

"The kind where you cling to me and scream at every little thing," he said, following your lead.

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" 

He grinned. "Well, I can't deny that would be enjoyable."

The next room was pitch black, the only sound the distant dripping of something liquid. Your heartbeat quickened as you stepped forward, the darkness seeming to swallow you whole. Suddenly, a cold hand grabbed your ankle, and you let out an involuntary yelp, jumping closer to Satoru.

Satoru quickly pulled you close, his strong arm wrapping around your waist as he steadied you. "Not scared, huh?" His voice was a deep rumble in his chest, and you could feel the vibrations against your back.

You pulled away from him. "Shut up. I'm not scared. Just... startled."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Mhm, sure. Whatever you say, love."

"Let's just keep going," you said, marching forward into the darkness.

But Satoru wasn't about to let you off that easily. He caught up to you in a few long strides, his hand finding yours in the darkness. "You know," he said, "if you need me to hold your hand, all you have to do is ask."

You scoffed, but didn't pull away. "I think I can manage."

"Oh, I'm sure you can. But where's the fun in that?"

Satoru suddenly tugged on your wrist, pulling you flush against his chest. Before you could react, his soft lips were on yours, insistent and demanding. 

For a moment, you stood frozen, your mind reeling from the unexpected turn. But as his lips moved against yours, his tongue teasing the seam of your mouth, you found yourself melting into his embrace, your body molding to his like it was made to fit there.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the firm planes of his pecs beneath his shirt, before pushing his baseball cap off his head, letting it fall to the ground forgotten. 

His silky, white hair fell down into his forehead, the soft strands brushing against your skin as you tangled your fingers in his locks, deepening the kiss. He groaned against your mouth, the sound sending heat straight to your core, igniting a fire in your veins that only he could quench.

His arms tightened around your waist, pressing your body impossibly closer to his. The haunted house faded away, the eerie sounds and spooky decorations forgotten as you lost yourself in the feel of him.

His tongue delved into your mouth, exploring, tasting, with a skill that never failed to leave you weak in the knees. His large hands roamed over your back, leaving trails of fire in their wake, even through the fabric of your sweater.

"You know," he said between heated kisses, his voice a low rumble that you felt in your bones, "I kinda like this side of you."

"What side?" you asked, breathless.

"The side that is scared, the side that needs me.”

"Because you need to be needed?"

"Needed by you, yes," he said, his blue eyes dark, before he walked you backwards until your back hit the wall, his body pinning you in place. “Always by you. Only by you.”

His lips left yours, trailing hot, wet kisses along your jaw, down the column of your neck. You tilted your head back, giving him better access.

"Satoru," you breathed, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"What happened to being able to manage on your own, hmm?"

You tugged on his hair, bringing his lips back to yours. "Shut up and kiss me."

"With pleasure," he murmured, before capturing your lips once more in a searing kiss that stole the breath from your lungs.

You lost track of time as you kissed, your bodies intertwined, hands exploring, breaths mingling. It was only when a particularly loud and high scream echoed through the haunted house that you broke slightly apart, chests heaving.

"We should...probably get out of here," Satoru said, his voice rough, his gaze fixed on your lips.

"Why leave?"

His lips twitched into a smirk. "Yeah, why indeed."

Satoru took your hand, his long fingers intertwining with yours as he pulled you down a darkened hallway, away from the main path of the haunted house. 

He tried a few doorknobs until one finally gave way. Peeking inside, he tugged you into what appeared to be a dimly lit storage room, filled with discarded props, old furniture, and cobwebs that looked a little too real for comfort.

As soon as the door closed behind you, he had you pressed up against it, his hard body pinning you in place as his lips found yours again. Your hands roamed over his muscular back, feeling the ripple of his muscles beneath as the kiss deepened, your puls racing.

In one smooth motion, he hoisted you up, his large hands gripping your thighs as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you further into the room, never breaking the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours.

Distantly, you registered a lone flashing red light in the corner, what seemed to be a security camera. Satoru noticed it too. 

Tearing his lips away from yours with a muttered curse, he set you down gently, your body sliding against his in a way that made you both shudder.

He strode over to the device. With a sharp tug, he disabled the camera and tossed it aside carelessly, before turning back to you with a heated look that made your core clench with need.

His hands found your waist once more, pulling you flush against him. His lips crushed on yours, the kiss hungry, desperate, all tongues and teeth. 

Your hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel his skin against yours. Satoru shrugged out of the fabric impatiently, tossing it aside without a second thought before his hands slipped beneath your sweater. His thumb brushed over your nipple through the thin lace of your bra.

You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. Your hands found his belt buckle, undoing it with deft fingers before popping the button of his pants and sliding down the zipper.

You could see the outline of his hard, thick cock straining against the fabric of his boxers, begging to be freed. 

Sinking to your knees, the hard floor cold against your skin, you looked up at him through your lashes. His breath hitched as he realized what you were about to do. 

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down slowly, teasingly. Satoru's cock sprang free, hard and thick and perfect.

You wrapped your hand around the base, giving him a few slow, deliberate strokes as you maintained eye contact, watching as his blue eyes darkened.

Satoru's head fell back, a guttural groan rumbling in his broad chest, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Fuck, your hand feels so good," he panted, his fingers threading into your hair, gripping just tight enough.

You leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick the bead of precum from his tip, the salty-sweet taste of him on your tongue.

Satoru hissed, his hips moved forward slightly, needing more. You wrapped your lips around him, taking him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his shaft as you savored the feel of him heavy against your tongue.

"Fuck, yes, just like that," Satoru praised, his grip on your hair tightening as you began to move your head, taking him deeper with each pass until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat.

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard as you worked him with your tongue, tracing the thick vein on the underside of his shaft. 

Satoru's moans filled the room, echoing off the walls, his hips rocking forward to meet your mouth, fucking your face with shallow thrusts.

"God, you take me so good, love," he groaned, his words dissolving into a low, drawn-out moan as you took him particularly deep. "Fu—Fuck.” He fell forward slightly, bracing his hands on the wall behind you.

You sucked him harder, your hand working what you couldn't fit in your mouth, twisting and stroking in time with your tongue. 

Satoru's breaths were coming in short, sharp pants now, his thighs tensing under your free hand. You could tell he was close, his cock twitching against your tongue, the taste of his precum becoming more intense.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum.” His deep voice strained and rough. "You're gonna make me fucking cum."

But just as you were sure he was about to come, Satoru's hand tightened in your hair, pulling you off him. You looked up, confusion in your eyes as you met his heated gaze.

"What's wrong?" you asked. "Was it not good?"

Satoru shook his head, a strained, breathy laugh escaping him. "Fuck, no, it was perfect. Too fucking perfect. I just..." He paused, his chest heaving as he tried to regain control. "I can't come like this. Not this time." 

He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your slick lower lip. "I need to cum inside you. Need to feel you around me."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, need pooling hot and heavy in your belly. Slowly, maintaining eye contact, you ran your tongue along the underside of his cock, flicking over the sensitive head. Satoru hissed again.

"And not like this?" you purred, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his weeping tip, your tongue swirling along the slit.

"Fucking tease.” His large hand fisted in your hair, dragging the head of his cock along your tongue, shuddering at the sensation, before reluctantly pulling away. "Why you gotta make this so hard for me, huh?"

He helped you to your feet, spinning you around and pressing you against the wall in one swift motion. His hands roamed your body, sliding over your waist, your hips, before swiftly undoing your pants and shoving them down.

Satoru’s large hand roaming over your ass, the other sliding between your legs, his long fingers pushing your underwear to the side and brushing against your dripping core. 

He pressed against your swollen clit, making you cry out and arch your hips back into him. "I can't fucking wait anymore,” he said.

His hands then gripped your hips, turning you to face the wall. You braced your hands against the cool surface, biting your lip. You felt the thick head of his cock nudging at your entrance, teasing you.

With one smooth, hard thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, stretching you just right, drawing moans from both of you. "Oh, fuck," you gasped, your nails scrabbling at the wall as you adjusted to the sudden fullness.

"My god, why do you always feel so fucking good," Satoru panted, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his hot breath fanning over your neck as he gave you a moment to adjust. "So tight, so fucking perfect. Like you were made for me."

"Move, Satoru," you breathed, very well aware that you were literally in the storage room of a haunted house and could get caught any second. "Fucking move."

"You're really not gonna let me enjoy this haunted house, are you?"

"Do you want to get caught with your pants down or what?"

"Then you'd better be quiet, love," he said. "Or I might just have to gag you with my fingers."

"You're impossible," you groaned, pushing your hips back against him, desperate for friction. "Just fucking move already."

Satoru didn't need to be told twice. He set a hard, deep pace, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the small room. 

One hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave bruises, while the other worked your clit, driving you closer to the edge with each skilled touch, each deep stroke of his perfect cock inside you.

You could feel your orgasm building, coiling tight in your lower belly. "Satoru, I'm close," you gasped, your nails scratching against the wall as you tried to find purchase. "Fuck, Satoru."

"Not yet, love." 

Quickly, Satoru's hand closed around your hip, spinning you around and lifting you up effortlessly like you weighed nothing. You clung to him, breathless and dizzy as he walked you over to a nearby table, sweeping aside the dusty props and cobweb-covered decorations littering its surface. 

He sat you down on the edge, your legs automatically wrapping around his trim waist to pull him closer, desperate to have him inside you again.

Satoru's warm hands slid up your thighs, over your hips, coming to rest on your waist as he leaned in to kiss your neck. "God, you're so fucking beautiful," he breathed, his lips brushing your skin. "Did I tell you how lucky I am to have you?"

"Satoru, we're literally fucking in a haunted house, maybe save the love confession for later?"

"You really are no fun during spooky season," Satoru groaned, his cock twitching against your thigh, leaving a trail of precum on your skin. He reached between your bodies, lining himself up with your entrance before thrusting forward, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, deep stroke.

You threw your head back, a moan escaping your lips at the maddening feeling of him filling you so completely. Satoru set a steady pace, his hips rolling against yours, the new angle allowing him to hit that spot inside you that made you feel like you were flying and falling all at once.

"Fuck, you feel so good around my cock," Satoru panted, his forehead resting against yours as he moved, his breath mingling with yours.

Your nails raked down his back, urging him on, wanting him deeper, harder, faster, consequences be damned. Satoru obliged, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more urgent, the rickety table creaking beneath you with each powerful surge of his hips.

"Touch yourself," Satoru growled, his voice strained. "I wanna feel you come around my cock."

You did as he said, your hand lowering between your bodies to find your clit, your hips bucking up to meet Satoru's thrusts as you chased your release.

"That's it, love," Satoru encouraged, his eyes dark as he watched you. "Just like that. Fuck, you're so hot when you touch yourself."

His thrusts became more frenzied.The table creaked and groaned beneath you, threatening to collapse at any moment, but you didn't care. You were too far gone.

Your fingers moved faster, more urgently, as you felt your orgasm building. Satoru's eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with a fierce intensity as he watched you. His lips were parted, his chest heaving, and his forhead was slick with sweat.

Suddenly, your body convulsed, your muscles contracting around Satoru's cock as you came. His eyes squeezed shut, hissing through his teeth as he felt your muscles clamp down around him.

"Ah, fuck," he moaned. "What are you doing to me?" His body tensed, his muscles straining as he fought to hold on, to keep going, to make it last. But it was too late. 

He thrust once, twice, and then he was coming, his cock pulsing inside you as he emptied himself, filling you with warm sticky cum. As the last of his cum dripped out of him, his body relaxed, his chest heaving with exertion. 

His forehead dropped to yours, his eyes closed in bliss as he savored the aftermath. "Fuck," he panted, his voice barely audible. "You're going to be the death of me."

“You wanted to go to that haunted house,” you said. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he caught his breath. 

He laughed. “Yeah, you’rer right.” His cock was still hard, still buried deep inside you, and you could feel his cum dripping out of you, a slow, sticky trickle.

He smiled, a lazy, sated smile that made your heart skip a beat. "God, I can't get enough of you." He was just about to lean in for a kiss when a sharp knock on the door startled you both. 

Your eyes widened in panic. 

"Hello?" a gruff voice called from the other side. It had to be a staff member.

"Oh, shit," you hissed, frantically grabbing for your clothes.

"I'm sorry, but this area is off-limits to guests," the voice called again, sounding more irritated.

Satoru quickly pulled his pants back on and finished buttoning his shirt, then reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pulled you close to his side and towards the door.

With his free hand, Satoru unlocked the door and flung it open, plastering on his most charming smile. Before you stood a grumpy middle-aged man who reeked of cigarettes and had dark circles under his eyes.

"Our bad, man," Satoru said smoothly, fishing out a few crisp yen bills from his pocket and pressing the money into the staff member's hand. "For the camera," he added with a wink.

The man looked at the bills, then back at Satoru, confusion written all over his weathered face. Without waiting for a response, Satoru dragged you out the door after him, brushing past the bewildered staff member. 

He led you quickly down the hallway, his grip on your wrist firm as he navigated through the winding passages. You didn't stop until you were outside the haunted house, the chilly night enveloping your flushed skin.

"Well, that was a close one," Satoru chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Haunted houses aren't so bad after all, huh?"

You leaned forward, hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath, your legs still shaky. "Shut up.” You swatted at him halfheartedly.

"Wanna head back to the festival?" 

You made your way back to the festival, hand in hand, his baseball cap and sunglasses back in place. 

You strolled through the stalls, taking in the various decorations and trinkets on display. Jack-o'-lanterns grinned toothily from every corner, their flickering candles casting an fiery glow on the revelers' faces. The scent of cinnamon, roasted almonds, caramel and the earthy smell of fallen leaves wafted through the air.

Suddenly, something caught Satoru's eye and he tugged you towards it. It was a cute little stall decked out in shimmering black and orange, laden with an assortment of whimsical accessories. Pointy witch hats adorned with glittery stars, vampire fangs that glinted in the light, and masquerade masks decorated with shimmering sequins and feathers.

Satoru's eyes sparkled with childlike wonder as he rummaged through the collection, his face split in a wide grin. He plucked something from the display and held it up. "Hold still for a sec.” He tilted his head as he considered how it might look on you.

In his hands was a cute headpiece, twisted black wire interwoven with tiny, glittering bats and shimmering autumn leaves that seemed to dance in the breeze. He placed it gently on your head, his fingertips grazing your temples as he adjusted it just so.

"There," he said softly. "Absolutely beautiful."

You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?"

"Mhmm," he hummed. "In fact, it looks so good on you, I might just have to fuck you again, but with that on top this time."

As if on cue, the stall owner fumbled with a display, sending a cascade of glittery masks tumbling to the ground with a clatter. You shot Satoru a pointed look, your eyes screaming, 'See what you did?'

"Ah, sorry about that." Satoru called out to the flustered vendor, flashing her a charming smile as he pressed a generous wad of bills into her hand. "Keep the change, yeah? For the trouble."

Before the poor woman could respond, Satoru had whisked you away, his laughter ringing out like music in the crisp night air.

Moments later, you found yourself with a generous glass of spiced pumpkin wine in hand, Satoru having snagged two mugs from a nearby vendor.

With the decorative headpiece perched atop your head and the overly cute Halloween mug in your hand, you probably looked like the biggest Halloween fan around. "I'm starting to think you're actually enjoying this.”

He grinned. "Really? What gave it away?"

Just then, something caught Satoru's eye, and he came to an abrupt halt, nearly causing you to slosh your drink all over yourself. His gaze fixed on a colorful shooting gallery booth. Rows of stacked thimbles painted with witches, ghosts, and pumpkins enticed passersby to try their hand at winning a prize. 

Satoru grinned at you and before you knew it, you found yourself participating in yet another classic Halloween fun activity with him. He smirked, rolling up his sleeves with an air of confidence. "You ever played before, love?"

"Hmm," you hummed, stepping up to the counter and setting your pumpkin spice wine aside. The attendant passed you each a toy rifle, and you took your positions.You rolled your shoulders and lifted the rifle.

Satoru’s first volley of shots went wide, but he managed to hit 3 out of 5, the thimbles clattering as they toppled over. "Warm-up round," he said with a nonchalant shrug, his competitive streak already showing. 

He turned to you with his signature grin, but it quickly morphed into an open-mouthed gape as you proceeded to hit all 5 with nonchalant precision, barely even pausing between shots.

You blew imaginary smoke from the barrel of your toy gun, a smug smile playing about your lips as you reached for your forgotten wine. "You were saying?"

Satoru blinked at you, his mouth open. "Okay, remind me never to piss you off again.”

"You know I'm never letting you live this down, right?"

"Yeah, I figured as much," he said, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought back a smile. He grabbed you around the waist, pulling you flush against him as he captured your lips in a kiss.

A pointed cough from the attendant broke you apart. "Your prize, miss?" the man prompted, gesturing to the array of plushies and plastic trinkets.

"Oh, I think I'll let the loser choose," you said airily, shooting Satoru a wink before walking away.

As the night wore on, you lost yourselves in the simple joy of each other's company, sharing laughter, playful challenges, and stolen kisses amidst the twinkling lights and paper streamers.

By the time the festival began to wind down, you were exhausted, your cheeks aching from smiling and your sides sore from laughter. Satoru pulled you close, his arm draped around your shoulders, as you made your way toward the exit and back home.

Maybe Halloween festivals weren't so bad after all.

author's note: hello again, sorry i've been quite offline these days, but i hope the short story made you smile (or whatever reaction you had to it lol). this should take place after chapter 16 but yk i haven't written that yet haha. so just imagine a happy satoru for this, after a huge burden got off his shoulders.

have a great day or night whenever you read this and and an even more great halloween and holiday season <3

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[buckymorelikefuckme]

what a wicked thing to do

vampire wanda maximoff x fem reader

words: 4.2k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** lesbian vampires yes GAWD, fantasy au, inaccurate historical au, smut, fingering, implied soulmates (?? kinda i guess), biting 👀, mention of blood, does this count as hurt/comfort? we shall see!! and uhhh it's kinda spooky ooky vibes but it's not really dark? i think. pls let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: listen..... i've already got spooky season in the brain and i really wanted to reshare this fic. i've edited it a little but i've also left the link to where i orphaned it on ao3 in the title if you prefer reading there~ any and all mistakes are my own! feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged pls and thank ♡ xoxo

wanda maximoff masterlist || main masterlist

It’s that time of year in between autumn and winter where it’s only getting colder and colder, no reprieve even during the sun’s highest point of the day. Part of you worries it’s a mistake to wander through the woods like this, especially so close to sunset.

But then you remember the briefest moment when you saw her, when your eyes met hers; it happened so quickly, but also felt as if time stopped. Something flashed in her gaze before she looked away and disappeared in the busy crowds of the village.

That moment, as brief as it was, leads you here. You hug your arms tighter to your torso, cursing the bitter wind whipping around you. Your dress had been a bright idea when you’d first thought of it. Now, you’re wondering why you thought such a plunging neckline would be smart, considering the seasonable chill in the air.

Although, you think with a flutter in your stomach, that’s not exactly true. You know exactly why you chose this dress.

There’s hardly any light left in the sky by now. You’re kicking yourself for getting lost in the woods, wondering if anyone would notice, or care, whether or not you return to the village. You have no family, no money, nothing tying you to anyone or anything. You work odd jobs to be able to make ends meet. The people knew of you, but you are sure they hardly concerned themselves with your well-being.

But then, when your gaze had met her own, you’d felt seen for the first time in ages. It was like she could see everything inside your mind, every ounce of longing and every bit of loneliness, even in the split second she held your stare. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since then. Nearly two weeks have passed, and you’d finally decided to find out if the stories that follow her hold any truth. They are quite colorful, full of fantasy and myth, surely decorated to sound more elaborate as the years go on. Fantasy and myth, perhaps, but one particular piece of information continues to remain the same.

She hasn’t seemed to age in the fifteen years she’s spent living near your village. Not one line or wrinkle to be seen on her pale skin. Not one gray hair on her head. Some of the elders even swear they'd seen her when they were children.

Her home is a mystery, one that stays that way out of fear. There is something about her eyes, some say, something off, not quite right. Because of this, no one has felt compelled enough to try finding her home.

At least, not until you.

You’re beginning to think you are truly lost, feeling hopeless, when you finally spot something in the distance. But just as relief washes through you, the rain starts. Each drop feels like sharp, stabbing pieces of ice landing on your exposed flesh, soaking into the thin fabric of your dress. It takes mere minutes for you to become drenched. Your dress is now clinging to your body uncomfortably, the cold even more biting than it already had been.

It comes into view, what you’d spotted several meters back, easier to make out. A looming castle breaks through the trees, windows lit with candles.

Your arms and feet are going numb, but you push through, stumbling your way to a cobblestone path that leads to tall, wooden doors. With a trembling hand, you raise the door knocker and bang it against the door as loud as you can manage, praying whoever is inside will hear.

Your wait is short lived, thankfully. The door creaks open loudly to reveal the very woman you’d been searching for. If she’s shocked to see you, she hides it well. She looks as regal as ever. A black dress hugs her lithe body, her hair perfectly brushed and styled. This close to her, you can see what the people mean. She looks ageless.

“E-excuse me, madam,” you begin, trying your best to keep your teeth from chattering. “I-I’m terribly lost and I d-don’t think I can find my w-way back to the village.”

The woman lets her eyes roam your shivering frame, lingering on your glistening chest for a second, then meets your pleading gaze.

“Of course. Please, do come in. I’m sure you’re cold.”

“Th-thank you,” you reply earnestly.

She steps aside, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze by.

“Think nothing of it,” she assures you. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, at least until the storm passes.”

As the door closes behind her, you take in as much of the space as possible. With it being nighttime, the candles can only do so much. For a castle, it is rather large, but it’s not quite as foreboding as you would have imagined. Though, you surmise, you hadn’t really known what to expect at all.

“Would you like something dry to change into?”

You whirl around, almost tripping over your feet as her voice registers, so close to your ear.

She smiles, amusement tickling the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps a cup of tea?”

Swallowing roughly, you nod, offering a smile of thanks in return.

“Very good. You should go sit by the fire to warm up while I get everything sorted.”

She points toward a room where you can see flickering light dancing off the walls. You nod again, letting your tired feet follow the promise of warmth. The closer you get to the large fireplace, the harder you shiver, goosebumps rising along your skin. You stand as close as you deem safe, hands held out to thaw them. For the second time, she sneaks up behind you.

“This is all I could manage to find.”

You gasp as you turn to face her. She’s still smiling as she holds up the proffered item of dry clothing.

“You frightened me,” you state dumbly, huffing a quiet laugh.

“I did not mean to,” she replies.

“It’s okay.” You glance at the clothes in her hand, a frown forming on your face. “A… dressing gown?”

She makes a sympathetic face. “It was all I could find,” she repeats.

Her eyes dip down to your chest again. They flash, just like in the village, but you’re sure it could have just been the fire reflecting in them. You look down to see what she’s staring at and heat rushes up your neck. Your nipples are clearly outlined against the wet fabric of your dress.

“Oh,” you murmur as you lift your arms to cover yourself.

She clears her throat delicately. “Take this. You’ll get sick if you keep your wet clothes on.” She pointedly holds the dressing gown out to you again until you gingerly take it. “I’ll go get the kettle started while you change.”

“Thank you,” you return quietly.

When you’re sure she’s gone, you undress as quickly as you can, more shivers wracking your frame as you stand naked in her drawing room for a few seconds before pulling on the silk dressing gown, tying it securely around your waist.

While you wait you decide to get a better look of the room. A few paintings hang on the dark walls, but mostly they’re covered with floor to ceiling shelves and stuffed to the brim with books. You take notice of a few spots where the dust hasn’t seemed to settle in front of them, figuring those must be her favorites. A plush chaise sits in the center of the room with two chairs on either side, atop an ornate rug that rests on most of the floor. There are a couple small tables between the chaise and chairs with candelabras on them, and a wide, lower table in front of them. You spot a desk by the only window in the room.

There’s nothing particularly personal about the space. It almost feels as if she’s newly moved in. But you know that can’t be true, especially since so many people in the village have seen her visit town for years now.

A piece of parchment on the desk catches your eye. You debate over whether or not you should let your curiosity get the better of you, your feet slowly carrying you over to where the paper lay. There’s writing on the top piece, and you get as far as the addressed “Brother,” but then hear her round the corner and quickly back away.

“I wasn’t sure if you took cream and sugar, so I brought them just in case,” she tells you, setting a silver tray on the low-lying table that held the teapot and teacups.

You walk over as she pours the tea into both cups. You pick one up and carefully drop two lumps of sugar into yours, stirring it with your teaspoon until you’re satisfied it’s melted. A careful sip as you sit down and you hum happily.

“Better?” she asks, smiling and taking a sip of her own tea, sitting beside you.

It occurs to you suddenly that you hadn’t asked for introductions. You scold yourself internally, knowing you had better etiquette than that.

“I must apologize, I seem to have forgotten my manners. I never introduced myself,” you say, then offer your name. “And what is yours, madam?”

“You may call me Wanda,” she replies.

“Well, I owe you a great deal for helping me, Wanda. I cannot thank you enough.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Please, there is no need. I’m glad I was here and that you aren’t in danger of freezing to death.”

“As am I,” you respond, laughing lightly.

Silence settles between you. Your mind whirls with hundreds of questions, but you don’t know where to begin. Your plan to find her only consisted of just that— finding her. Now that you’re here, you aren’t quite sure what to do. Or say, for that matter.

You can feel her eyes observing you like a caress. You struggle not to squirm or shiver, though you are no longer cold. No, there is no chill clinging to your bones anymore. Her stare alone provides enough heat. You chance a glimpse of her from the corner of your eye, but she catches it. She purses her lips to keep from smiling in amusement.

“So,” you blurt, cheeks pinking, “have you lived here long?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as soon as the words leave your mouth. Stupid, stupid girl.

Thankfully, Wanda laughs.

“Quite,” she says teasingly, like she’s letting you in on a joke.

You nod. “I see. Is it a family home?”

She tilts her head consideringly. “Of a sort.”

What is that supposed to mean? Miraculously, you don’t ask that question aloud.

“Do you… Do you live alone?”

You’re not sure why you ask. Perhaps it’s that you haven’t heard any other movement throughout the castle that indicated a waiting staff of some sort. Afterall, she was the one to fetch the tea.

“I do,” she says.

You don’t want to examine it too closely, but you’re positive you note a hint of longing in her tone.

“S’a lot of space for one person,” you muse in acknowledgment.

She nods. “Indeed. However, I’m sure I’ll find the right companion soon.”

You take another sip of your tea to avoid replying, but are not able to avoid meeting her gaze. The look in her eyes is something you’ve never seen directed at you. You’re hesitant to think it could be want, open desire. Not from a woman like her.

—

Wanda still cannot believe that you’d shown up at her door.

She’s spent months watching you from a distance, never allowing herself to be seen by you—not until she felt it was time. From the very first moment she caught sight of you, she knew. You are hers. Her mouth watered when the wind brought your scent to her. There was not a doubt in her mind about whether she would have you; she simply would.

She had waited, ever so patiently, watching you as you roamed the streets of the village. You didn’t seem to have very many acquaintances, if any at all, and you were always alone. Wanda quickly figured out that you were without a family as well.

Selfishly, she’d been happy about these facts.

Finally, Wanda allowed herself to meet your gaze. It was quick, but she knew her eyes flashed, knew that she piqued your curiosity. It would only be a matter of time.

After nearly two weeks had gone by, however, she had started to think it hadn’t worked. She’d planned on returning to town to purposefully cross your path again, but as luck would have it, you came to her. As soon as she heard the knock on her door, she smiled.

Now, as she sits next to you on the chaise, your skin glowing in the firelight, she finds it harder to maintain her control. This close, your scent is even more intoxicating. Wanda can tell that you’re curious about her. The questions you want to ask are swirling behind your eyes. And now that you’re here, she decides she’ll answer whatever you ask, give you anything you want.

You’ve gone quiet, though, so she does some prodding of her own.

“What were you doing out in the woods?” Dressed like that, blessedly, goes unsaid.

You shyly glance down at your lap. “I, uh, I like to take walks,” you mutter into your teacup as you go to take another sip.

Wanda hums. A plausible excuse, indeed. You carefully lean forward to set your cup and saucer on the table and when you sit back you move your hair over to one shoulder. Wanda’s eyes zero in on the pulsepoint of your neck. If she focuses hard enough, she can see your heartbeat throbbing beneath your skin. It makes her teeth itch, makes her control waver even more.

When she drags her gaze away from your neck, she finds you already observing her. Her desire is clearly reflected in your eyes and the feeling is heady.

—

“Are you warm now?” she wonders.

“Yes,” you whisper, your breathing picking up, making your breasts heave alluringly.

You’d go as far as saying you are overheating. The dressing gown, where you’d been unsure and embarrassed of being nude underneath it before, is now a blessing. Your body feels alight with an unseen, growing fire. Shifting on the chaise, you don’t notice the sleeve slip down your shoulder, only registering the air skimming across your collarbones. You let out a surprised gasp when you feel something cold on your bare arm.

Peering down reveals it to be Wanda’s hand carefully sliding the sleeve back up into place. Your brows pull together in a frown.

“Your hand…” you mumble, trailing off.

She lets it linger on your shoulder for a moment, then slowly traces down your arm, her thumb grazing the side of your breast. Your nipples tighten, thighs clenching together as you watch her fingers stop at your wrist. Though her touch is cold, it feels like a relief against the searing heat of your flesh. You peek at her through your lashes and find her expression to be one of complete hunger.

Feeling emboldened, you hold her stare as you shift to pull the sleeve down again.

Her lips lift on one side, her teeth glinting dangerously. “Are you sure of what you’re doing?” she asks.

You blink, faux innocence shifting behind your eyes. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Wanda takes a deep, steadying breath, though it only helps in inhaling your scent more. She says your name. “Why do you think you are here?” The question catches you off guard. Wanda shifts even closer to you, watching your throat bob as you swallow. “We both know it isn’t because you accidentally got lost in the woods. You were out there with a purpose. What was it?”

You lick your lips, noticing her gaze immediately drop to them. It makes your heart pound in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you reply, unsure.

She leans in, her nose nearly touching yours. “You do,” she whispers, without doubt. “Why are you here?”

Your eyes flutter closed, head tilting back without you being aware of it, exposing your neck. You feel her presence mere centimeters away from you, her breath puffing out along the column of your throat.

“I… I felt drawn here. It feels like I was meant to be here,” you say, quiet, almost hoping she doesn’t hear you.

It feels ridiculous to say it out loud. It’s one thing to have that thought sit in the back of your mind where you could pretend it didn’t exist, but to admit it aloud is entirely different.

“With me?”

You shiver at her words, her lips having softly dragged across your skin. Helplessly, you nod.

“Are you afraid?”

That makes you frown, but you adamantly reply, “No.”

“Open your eyes,” she pleads.

You follow her instruction, wary, but gasp at what you see. Sharp fangs peek out from Wanda’s lips, her eyes so pale they’re almost white now. Though your heart continues to race, it’s not out of fear. It should scare you, it should send you running, but you find your hand slowly rising to carefully trace a finger down one of her fangs, amazed that she even lets you.

“You’re…” You start, meeting her patient gaze once more. “Beautiful,” you finish in a whisper, because she is. You go to reach for her face to stroke her cheek, but she lurches backward. In a blink, Wanda’s on the other side of the chaise. Disbelief paints her features.

“You think I’m… beautiful?”

“Of course,” you state plainly, brows furrowing. Wanda continues staring at you in wonder. “You said I was here for a reason.” Ironically, she’s now wary of you as you shuffle closer to her. “I know what that reason is now.”

“Which is?” she asks apprehensively.

“You,” you murmur, cupping her cheek. “I’m here for you.”

Wanda looks as if she’s scared to accept this, to hope for it to be real. You steal away those worries by leaning in to place a soft kiss to her lips. She inhales sharply, eyes squeezing shut, her cold hands gripping your wrist almost painfully. You give her a moment, kissing her forehead as she gathers her emotions, keeping her gaze down.

“Are you sure?”

Her voice cracks softly, but her grip on your wrist loosens as you move it. You lift her chin so she’s looking at you.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She stares at your lips for a few seconds, and then, as your words sink in, they seem to send her into action. She surges forward and captures your lips, more sure, more eager than before. You respond in kind, pulling her as close as possible, sighing into her mouth.

You quickly find yourself on your back on the chaise, Wanda above you, bodies slotting perfectly into each other like lost puzzle pieces. You feel her hand slide down from where it was in your hair to graze along your sternum. Then her hand cups your breast, thumb swiping across your nipple, and you gasp. It’s the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss and Wanda takes it.

Her tongue slides against yours and you whine, clutching at her like she’s the only thing tethering you to this earth. It becomes so easy to let her settle between your thighs, to arch into her touch and slide your tongue in her mouth, delicately tracing over her fangs. Wanda shudders, grunting inelegantly before wrenching herself away, panting heavily into the space between you. You blindly chase after her, opening your eyes in confusion.

Wanda’s gaze is intent on your neck, full of desire. The weight of the moment hits you, then. What exactly it would mean if you give in to her. So, with full faith in your decision, you tilt your head ever so slightly and she goes perfectly still.

“Go ahead,” you encourage.

She shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

You huff. “I do. I want you to do this.” You know she won’t look at you just yet, so you lace both your and her fingers together and squeeze hers as you continue. “I need you to do this.”

“If I do,” she starts, swallowing thickly, “I won’t be able to stop. You’ll end up like me.”

You duck your head to catch her stare. “And what’s wrong with that?”

She closes her eyes and falls silent for a moment. The weight of your words fall over the two of you like a winter blanket.

“I’ve waited so long,” she confesses, voice quiet, shaking and timid.

“For me?” you ask. She nods. “I’ve been looking for something, or someone, to make me feel whole all my life.” You use your free hand to stroke her cheek. Even with her eyes closed, she leans into you. “I’ve waited for you, too.”

When she finally looks at you, you know there’s no going back for either of you.

“It’s going to hurt,” she warns.

“That’s okay. It will only be temporary.”

She smiles then, slow and teasing. “I can ease the pain, you know.”

Her free hand tugs lightly on the ties holding your dressing gown closed, raising her eyebrows in silent question. You bite your lip and nod, shivering in anticipation. She undoes the careful bow you’d tied, easing it open and exposing your body to her hungry gaze.

If you felt heated before, you’re an inferno now. Her hands reverently map out every curve of your body. She leans down and plants a kiss above your belly button. It makes your stomach clench in want, but you make yourself lie there and take whatever she plans on giving you. Her kisses lead up your torso, until she’s eye level with your breasts, and before you can comprehend her movement, she’s taking one of your nipples into her mouth.

“God,” you whimper, head thrown back as you push your chest into her face.

“No,” Wanda giggles, “just me.”

You try to laugh, but it turns into a gasping moan when she pinches your other nipple between cold fingers. Your thighs attempt to close around her, yet it’s futile. Her free hand begins its descent down to the warm heat between your legs. Your hips buck into her touch, crying out when her fingers make contact with your clit.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make this feel good, okay? Let me take care of you.”

You nod quickly, your mouth going dry. When a single finger enters you, you forget how to breathe for a second, but then she’s sliding it out and back in, setting a steady rhythm, and you’re back to panting and whining. Only a few minutes later, though, you’re wriggling around, begging for more. She adds another finger and picks up the pace.

“Oh,” you gasp, your legs falling open wider.

Wanda buries her face in your neck, inhaling loudly, groaning. She licks across the skin there, nipping at you.

“Wanda,” you whimper.

“I know, my love,” she rasps. “You’re so close.”

Your hands have drifted above you, clutching at the pillows on the chaise, your hips moving in tandem with her fingers. Her thumb meets your clit, adding to the building warmth in your belly. It swells and swells, until finally, it has nowhere else to go and explodes within you.

You feel her teeth sink into your neck at the very same moment, and you can only yell brokenly into the air. Pain and pleasure war inside you, both white hot and searing, marrying themselves into a delicious and lethal combination. You can feel blood trickle down your throat, the same way you can still feel her fingers thrusting into you. It seems to never end and you grow limp beneath her, unable to handle the sensations flowing through you.

She finally slows, removing her teeth and licking over the wound. As her fingers slide free, she brushes your sweaty hair off your forehead with her clean hand.

“Sleep now,” she instructs, kissing you softly.

You can’t even attempt to argue, your body listening to her and promptly sending you into a deep slumber.

—

When you wake, before you even open your eyes, you’re aware of a few things.

To start, you’re no longer on the chaise. You’re on a luxurious bed, which is presumably Wanda’s. Your hearing is significantly better, as is your sense of smell. There’s a low thrum of energy coursing through your veins, like you’re on edge but don’t know why. But the more important thing you’re aware of is the feeling of eyes on you.

“I know you’re awake now.”

You crack open one eye and see Wanda smirking at you from the other end of the bed. You smile and sigh happily.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

You carefully sit up and stretch. You notice her ogling your still naked body and give her a smirk of your own. Shifting onto your knees, you crawl over the bed until you reach her and straddle her lap.

“Hungry,” you answer before grasping her face in your hands and attaching your mouth to hers.

With a force she hadn’t used before, she tosses you backward and is on top of you in a flash, a devilish smile on her tragically beautiful face.

“Good.”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

Ooh can I ask for a witch reader who makes a love potion (or like love potion spiked cookies/brownies/muffins) for someone? Im feeling the fall vibes

a/n: i went with rafe because he’s been on my mind lately, also set it in a college au just for those dark academia vibes

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

A guy like Rafe Cameron would never fall for someone like you, a girl nowhere near the air-headed sorority chick that he usually went for. But then it was a good thing that you had the ability to help him along with that little error… all it took was a night of baking and an innocent little decomposition incantation on his lunch.

“Hey,” you cut off his cursing as he tossed his food in the garbage as if it were on fire, “are you okay?” 

As he twisted around, it might have been the first time he’d ever truly looked at you. 

“I–, what?” he blinked back at you, “no, I’m not okay. My lunch is apparently fucking rotten and I don’t have time before my next class to go to the cafeteria.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. That really sucks.”

“Yep,” he sighed and his feet began to shift again, his shoulder brushing against your frame as he moved past your form. 

“You can have some of mine!” you called out, “we can split it, if you want.” 

As he stopped in his tracks, it took him a moment to accept your apparent kindness, “okay, yeah, sure.”

“Great!” you smiled and pulled out your lunchbox. Sitting down on the nearby bench nuzzled beneath one of the campus’s grand trees, “let’s see…” you murmured as you pretended to go through the options, “I have a muffin,” you plucked it up and held it out for him to grasp.

Huffing out a breath, “I guess that’ll have to do,” he snatched it from your grasp and harshly began to unwrap the paper cup away from one of the sides.

Your eyes were big as you stared at him in anticipation, your simple smile growing to an all-consuming grin as you watched him sink his teeth into the enchanted treat. 

As Rafe swallowed the first bite, his face first went completely blank, staring out into nothing as the spell took effect, but then as he blinked once again, a twinkle appeared in his eyes as they landed on you.

“What did you say your name was again?” he suddenly asked, all of the underlying anger melted from his voice. 

“It’s Y/n,” a swarm of butterflies soared in your stomach as he finally looked at you the way you’d so fiercely dreamed of. 

“Y/n,” he took a seat beside you on the bench, “I’m Rafe.” 

“Yeah, I know who you are,” your fingers floated up to tug the strand of hair behind your ear that the brisk autumn wind had caught. 

“Have we met before?” his head tilted slightly. 

“Kinda. I sit two rows behind you in Callahan’s class.” 

“Right,” he breathed, a slight smile tugging on his lips as he stared back at you as if he was about to get down on one knee, “that’s you…” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[spectorgram]

rooftop

dick grayson x f! reader content: nsfw implications but not actual nsfw word count: 1.0k

The brisk autumn breeze feels good against your skin as you climb up onto the rooftop of the Gotham Museum of Art, necklace in hand. You peer down at it, the ruby and sapphires winking back at you in the moonlight. It’s beautiful and you’re sure Selina will be able to raise its price even higher.

You stretch your arms up, enjoying the pull in your back, and you’re about to make your egress when your ears prick up. The sound of footsteps makes you smile; how considerate of him to announce his arrival. “Lovely night we’re having,” Nightwing says from behind you.

“Perfect for a nighttime stroll, no?” you reply.

“Looks like you’re here for a little more than that, Pantheress,” he says. 

You finally turn to face him, shamelessly drinking him in. The black and blue suit clings to him like a second skin and you bite the corner of your lip, meeting his eyes with a cheeky grin. “You’re more than welcome to join me on my walk,” you tell him.

Nightwing smiles back at you. “Sure thing,” he says. “I’ll just need to take that, though.” He motions to the jewelry in hand. 

“If that’s your condition, I guess we’ll have to take a rain check.” 

“I still can’t let you leave.”

“Aww, you like me that much, birdy?”

He gives you an exasperated look. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

You hum, pretending to think as you stalk toward him. His eyes follow your moves and he doesn’t move, even as your chest brushes against him. You glance at him. What color are his eyes under that mask, you wonder. You imagine that they’re electric blue, just as pretty as the rest of him. “How about this?” You move your arm behind your back, tightening your grip on the necklace. “We do this my way.”

And in a flash, you take off. You leap from building to building, Nightwing not too far off. You slow just a little bit to glance back when the sound of footsteps disappear behind you. You smirk to yourself, but as you jump for another rooftop, a body intercepts you. 

Nightwing twists his body to take the brunt of the force and you tumble on top of him. You hastily try to regain footing but he flips, pinning you beneath him. You realized belatedly that the necklace is no longer in your hand, your head lifting to look around. Then, you see his Nightwing’s hand. You make one, quick grab at it but he’s faster, jerking his arm away, prompting you to sigh, “Thought we were having fun, Wing.”

“There’s nothing fun about theft, Pantheress.”

“You and I both know that rich assholes won’t be hurting too much from the loss,” you hiss at him.

“Stealing isn’t right,” he says firmly, “no matter what.” 

You roll your eyes. “But I don’t see you locking up any millionaires who are pushing people out of their neighborhoods and building luxury properties on top of them.”

“That’s because it’s within the confines of the law, and even if I don’t agree with it, it’s still legal.”

You scowl and swipe at him, the retractable claws in your gloves unsheathing. He dodges but the way he shifts his weight gives you just enough time to shove him off you and put some distance between the two of you. 

“You never go down without a fight,” he says, pocketing the necklace — you’re not even sure how it’s possible in that skin-tight suit — and reaching for the two escrima sticks strapped to his back. 

“I thought that’s what you like about me.” 

He lunges for your first and you leap away, bobbing and weaving underneath the swing of his escrima sticks. You claws graze the fabric of his suit, tearing a hole in the sleeve. You aim a kick at his chest but he drops one of his batons, using his free hand to grab your ankle and spin you off balance. Before you fall, you manage to grab him, pulling him down with you. You land on your chest, a strangled grunt leaving your lips as Nightwing lands on top of you. “We need to stop meeting like this,” you pant.

He snorts in amusement on top of you, sitting up. You scoff when you hear the clink of handcuffs. “Is that really necessary?”

“You know theft is a crime. I have to take you in.” As he tries to fasten one cuff around your left wrist, you start squirming, hoping your movements would throw him off guard. Instead, he holds a firm's hand on the center of your back. “Stop moving,” he hisses. It takes you a beat to realize there’s something hardening against your back.

You snicker, “Guess you really are happy to see me, birdy.”

For once, there’s no clever quip to come out of his mouth. You squirm more, delighting in the way he struggles to deal with you and stopping any sound from escaping. Then, Nightwing’s weight is thrown off you suddenly and the sounds of a small scuffle reach your ears. You take the chance to see Selina standing behind you. She tilts her head at you, smirking. “I’ve never had to bail you out like this, kitten.”

“My hero.” You peer over his shoulder. “Is the Bat following you?”

“Should be here shortly,” she says. “So we should take our leave.”

Before Nightwing has a chance to stop you again, Selina ushers you to the edge of the building and you two leap, disappearing into the night. 

Dick curses as he watches you fade into the darkness below. Bruce lands beside him, and Dick resheaths his escrima sticks. “They got away,” Bruce says, though he doesn’t sound too unhappy. 

“Yeah,” Dick replies. Next time, he’ll catch you. The thought excites him, makes him antsy for the next encounter. “At least we got the necklace back.” When he reaches into his pocket, he finds empty space. “Shit.”

a/n: i don’t think this is my finest work and it’s a bit rushed but i really wanted to write for one of my favorite and most beloved characters so i hope you enjoyed

[unclewaynemunson]

It's October when the autumn chill officially dawns over Hawkins. Wayne wakes up to fogged-up windows, and his bones protest loudly when he stretches to get up and make himself some warm coffee. It's too early in the year to turn on the heating; if they start that now, they'll be bankrupt before it's even January. So while the coffee is brewing, he shrugs off the old shirt he uses as a pajama, and puts on as many layers as he'll need to keep himself warm: first an undershirt, then a soft flannel, and then a faded brown sweater that's been sitting uselessly in his closet all through the summer. It's patched up at the elbows to conceal the holes that have fallen into it, but still warm and comfortable, which is all Wayne can really ask for.

'Ed, got coffee for ya!' he calls out when he's changed into his jeans and the coffee is almost ready.

Some muffled noises sounding vaguely like 'lemmesleeeeeep' emerge from the other side of the thin wall.

Wayne chuckles as he turns on the gas, deciding he might as well make scrambled eggs for breakfast; a thinly-veiled excuse to heat up the trailer by using the stove.

'And eggs in a minute!'

Another string of muffled sounds emerges from Eddie's bedroom, 'stoocold' being the only semi-decipherable one.

For a moment, Wayne feels guilty. He knows, deep down, that this is nothing more than his Eddie being dramatic. But that doesn't change his wish that he could simply turn on the heat without giving it a second thought and make Eddie's Sunday morning just slightly more comfortable. He doesn't care about the chill in his own bones, he's had worse. He doesn't care about the condensation on the windows, that is now changing into thick droplets that are gliding down to the windowsill, leaving traces of soot in their wake. He's not even sure if he'd ever want to live in a real, proper house. But the one thing he does want, is to get his nephew through the season warm and comfortable without having to count every penny.

Eddie finally emerges from his bedroom, with only his head peeking out of the blanket he has wrapped himself in, and a sleepy look in his eyes. The phone starts ringing just as Wayne greets him, and Eddie, who's closer to it, shuffles towards it.

Almost immediately after he picks up, his eyes shed their drowsy look and light up in a way that Wayne has come to know all too well, while his mouth curves into a wicked grin.

'No, sir, he's not here,' Eddie says into the phone, his eyes wide and innocent. 'When he didn't come home last night, I assumed he'd be spending the night with you. I guess he must have a secret lover we both don't know about.'

Wayne abruptly turns off the gas and barges towards Eddie, who barks out a laugh while he jumps back as far as the phone cord allows him.

'Just joking, Mr. Clarke, he is here!' he calls out in an annoyingly triumphed tone. 'And he can't wait to talk to you, here he is!'

Wayne playfully shoves Eddie against the wall as he takes the phone from him.

'Sorry for my menace of a nephew, Scott,' he says.

He hears a chuckle on the other side of the line, slightly distorted through the horn. It's as if his hand has a will of its own, clenching around the phone and pressing it almost painfully close to his ear; like he'll be able to catch the sound of Scott's laughter better if he could only press himself tighter to his phone.

'Luckily I'm used to middle schoolers, nothing I can't handle here.'

Wayne snorts and turns towards Eddie, who is now shamelessly staring at him from above his blanket-cocoon a few steps away from him.

'Scott says you should stop behavin' like a damn middle schooler,' he grumbles.

'Yep, that sounds exactly like something sweet Scott Clarke would say,' Eddie remarks, that devilish grin still plastered on his face.

'What can I do for ya, Scott?'

'Well, I just came downstairs for breakfast, and when I looked outside, I realized this is our first proper fall day.'

Wayne directs his gaze to the wet kitchen window. He hadn't even thought to look through the droplets on the glass; but now that he does, he realizes Scott is right. The trees around Forest Hills are definitely showing more yellow and orange than they did yesterday, and some patches of fog are still lingering a few feet above the wilted grass and muddy roads. The skies are a light shade of gray, telling Wayne that even though it'll be cold, it won't likely start raining anytime soon.

'I was wondering if you have any plans for today?' Scott's continues in his ear. 'We could go for a walk in the forest, admire the colors, see if we can find some cool mushrooms... What do you think?'

Wayne wonders whether he's imagining the nervous edge to Scott's voice, merely hearing in there what he wants to hear.

'I'm free all day,' Wayne says. He clamps the phone between his ear and his shoulder, needing both his hands to fumble around in his chest pocket and find a cigarette and a lighter. 'You wanna come over after breakfast? I can make a thermos of coffee and we can head into the woods here, I know a nice path around Lov- around the lake.' He can feel Eddie's gaze burning on him, but he refuses to look at his nephew, instead closing his eyes as he places the cigarette between his lips and lights it.

Scott is kind enough to pretend like he didn't notice Wayne's unfortunate stutter.

'A walk around the lake sounds perfect,' he says instead, his voice still as chipper as ever. 'I'll be at yours in an hour. Enjoy your breakfast with Eddie.'

'Real smooth, Uncle Wayne.' Eddie's amused voice cuts through the silence as soon as Wayne has hung the phone back on the hook.

'Don't be ridiculous now, boy,' Wayne grumbles. 'He's my friend.'

'With whom you're gonna hang out at Lover's Lake. Like friends do.' The sarcasm is dripping from Eddie's voice.

'I liked you better when you were still asleep in your bed,' Wayne remarks.

Eddie laughs loudly. 'You shoulda thought about that before you made me come out of it to freeze to death.'

Wayne crosses his arms and shoots Eddie an unimpressed look. 'Are you gonna do anything today or just spending your whole day makin' fun of me?'

Eddie shrugs – or rather, that's what Wayne supposes is happening underneath the moving blanket. 'I'm gonna take the kids to the pumpkin farm with Steve.' He lowers his voice and leans closer towards Wayne, continuing in an conspiratorial voice, 'We call that a date. Maybe you and Mr. Clarke should stop being cowards and come join us. Make it a double date.'

Wayne doesn't say anything; he simply rolls his eyes and walks back to the stove, lighting the gas underneath the frying pan again so he can direct all his attention to his eggs.

---

An hour later, Eddie has left – with a pit stop at the Mayfields' trailer – to pick up Steve. Wayne has done the dishes, dried the windows and filled a thermos with fresh coffee. By the time Scott parks his car in the spot where Eddie's van had been earlier, most of the fog outside has disappeared. Wayne watches him get out of his car through the kitchen window, but he doesn't come outside just yet, afraid it'll make him seem too eager.

Scott knocks on the door and then lets himself in, like he's done many times over the summer that now lies behind them. He's wearing a woolen coat in a dark gray color, with a simple black scarf around his neck.

Wayne feels his hands twitch with the desire to wrap themselves around Scott's waist, to tug him close and bask in the warmth of his body. Would his scarf feel as soft as it looks? Would he smell like fresh autumn air? Would his touch be as warm as the quilt on his couch?

'Oof, it's chilly in here,' Scott remarks, rubbing his hands together.

'I don't get cold that fast.' It's only partly a lie.

'I like the sweater.'

The easy and earnest compliment catches Wayne off-balance; he doesn't know what to do, where to look, where to keep his hands. He wants to escape Scott's approving gaze and hide away somewhere no one can perceive him.

Instead, he clears his throat and thanks the heavens for the fact that Eddie has already left.

'Ready to go?' he asks.

They head into the woods and Wayne leads the way as they stray further from the trailer park. Their feet easily find a rhythm that feels natural to both of them, avoiding the bigger puddles on the path and stopping every now and then to admire toadstools, dewy cobwebs, and fallen leaves in beautiful colors.

As they make their way around Lover's Lake, Wayne ponders what exactly the difference is between what Eddie would call a hangout, and a date. He doesn't exactly have a lot of friends who he hangs out with. He has his colleagues at the plant, of course, who he'd always kept at a distance, which proved him right when they were all too ready to come for his Eddie last March. He has some neighbors he's friendly with; he helps them with a thing or two around their trailers and in return they share a beer or a smoke with him. But he wouldn't call that real friendship either. He has learned long ago how dangerous it can be to let people come too close. Some people only wanted certain things from him, others would judge him when they'd find out a thing too many about him. And the pain of losing a rare, true friend became all too clear to him back in Vietnam.

After that, he mainly stuck to himself. And then it became him and Eddie against the world. He never needed anyone else. He was good at being alone, after all. There was a certain level of comfort to be found in loneliness.

So this thing with Scott – whatever it is – is not something he can compare to anything else. The only thing he knows is that it's definitely not lonely. And that he doesn't want to mess it up and lose the only true friend he's had in decades.

'What's on your mind?' Scott asks when they sit down on a fallen tree at the edge of the lake to enjoy their coffee. 'You've been quiet.'

'I'm always quiet,' Wayne points out.

It makes Scott chuckle softly before he takes a sip of his coffee.

'Not as quiet as you think,' Scott says. 'Today, you're thinking loudly. I can almost hear your thoughts.'

Wayne carefully places his own mug on the tree, then grabs himself a cigarette and lights it, all to buy himself some time. But even after a long drag and another sip of coffee, he still doesn't quite know how to voice his thoughts.

'Was just admirin' the fall colors,' he decides to say instead, when the silence starts taking too long.

He can practically feel Scott's eyes on his face as he stubbornly stares over the water in front of them.

'It really is the perfect day to do that,' Scott finally says. Apparently he has decided he'll let Wayne get away with it this time. Or maybe it isn't like that. Maybe he decided that he'll allow Wayne the time he needs to sort out his thoughts before he can voice them. Maybe he understands that Wayne sometimes needs a while before he's ready to talk about things. Maybe he decided that he didn't want to intrude. Maybe he decided that he values spending time with Wayne, no matter if they're talking or sitting in silence. And maybe this fall will be a little less cold than the ones Wayne has gotten used to, because when he risks a glance towards his left, he sees Scott wearing a smile that's appreciative of the nature around them. It's a smile that warms Wayne from the inside, in a way that the heater in his trailer has never managed to do.

[delopsia]

ride the lightning | rhett abbott x reader

Word Count: 7,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, slice of life, Rhett's shoulder injury, showering together, outdoor sex, unprotected sex, food, absolutely zero plot to this one. Brief Summary: What's more fun than a post-rodeo party? Running off and having your own personal rodeo right before the storm hits.  

"You've got to quit eyeing those cowboys," Autumn's already chiding you, her words distorted by the glass resting against her bottom lip. 

Hesitant, your gaze drifts back to her. Weren't quite done scanning the room, but if you don't stop now, then you'll lose the luxury of feigning stupidity. "What do you mean?" 

"You're not slick!" She pauses, taking a sip of the liquid gold that fills her cup, the taste so bitter that her nose wrinkles. "I see you looking over there." 

"Because I'm looking for someone," you chirp, your nail tapping against the table as you begin to look around again. 

There was no way that wasn't his truck out in the parking lot. You'd know that aftermarket lightbar anywhere. But you don't see him. Not by the jukebox or the pool table. Hell, he's not even with his buddy Archie over there beside the empty water trough. 

"It's that bull rider from the rodeo, ain't it." Autumn's hit the nail on the head, and she knows it. Swirling the ice in her glass, grin growing wider with every second that passes. "You sure have a type."

It's not as if you could ever defend yourself from that accusation, but you're leaning forward, voice low as you whisper. "Yeah, like you don't have a thing for blue-eyed blondes."

"Blue-eyed blondes with money." She tips her glass at you as if to further her correction. It's not until after she's downed another greedy gulp of beer that she opens her mouth again.  "At least we have the eye thing in common."

All the men in the world, and here you two have picked men that happen to be neighbors. Arch enemies at that. Classic, century-old feud stuff. At this point, they don't hate each other for a reason; they do it for tradition.

You reckon a family hobby would be healthier, but that's not your dog, and it's certainly not your fight.

...not yet, at least. 

"At what point are we obligated to hate each other?" Dipping a finger into your drink as you speak, mindlessly swirling the ice until it forms its own little whirlpool. It's pretty to look at. Blue in color, with a little cherry and framed in a dainty glass, but whoever mixed this gave you all tequila and no juice. 

She hums, looking at something behind your head. "Whenever someone coughs up a half-mil."

Your finger stops, feeling the alcohol keep spinning past your finger. The cherry stem scrapes your skin. "Our friendship is only worth half a million to you?" 

"No," her eyes finally dart back to you, glinting in the light, "but that's how much is in Luke's checking account."

You don't even want to know how or why someone would have that much money ready to spend at a moment's notice. Or, better yet, where the hell that money came from.

Whatever is behind you, Autumn seems pretty interested in it, and you've got a good enough guess that it's the face of a man you're not interested in seeing. If you make eye contact, he'll take that as an invitation. 

Music sparks to life, blaring from a pair of cheap speakers somewhere on your left. You vaguely recognize the start of the song, but you're too busy scanning the crowd to pay attention to the lyrics. There are so many cowboy hats that you can't even cling to your usual method of finding him. Fuck, and hardly anyone has taken off their rodeo chaps. How are you supposed to—

There he is, beside the coolers. Red solo cup in hand, full of what you can only assume is more cheap beer. 

He's already looking at you, the corner of his lip lifting as you meet his gaze. 

"Speaking of," Autumn's already beginning to get up, the plastic table jolting as her hip bumps into it. "I just found who I was looking for."

"Have fun," pausing to glance at who she's so focused on. You're not sure why you expected it to be anyone other than Luke. "Try not to show up on the Abbott ranch with another hangover."

"No promises!" And just like that, she's left you. 

If history is anything to go off of, she'll charm him into driving her around in one of those fancy sports cars again. You've got a feeling that she's gonna be up in Jackson before sunrise, nestled in a fancy hotel for the weekend. 

"'s this seat taken?" 

You recognize that voice.

You've got to tilt your head to see him. Towering over you like some kind of giant, all broad shoulders and scruffy as can be, rodeo dirt still decorating his unshaven jaw. He hasn't even bothered to change out of his flannel, the ripped upper sleeve falling open to reveal the thick bicep lurking underneath. The left one sits a little awkwardly. Higher. An old injury aggravated by tonight's ride.

You want to climb him like a damn tree. 

"Maybe it is." Coy.

"Oh really?" His head cocks off to the side, hair falling into his face. "Who's it for?"

You've already got an answer brewing, but you hold it on your tongue for a moment, feigning thought. "His name is Rhett."

He hums. "Never heard of him." 

Silence. 

And then—

Rhett's laugh twists through the air like a melody, the plastic chair squeaking as he all but falls into the poor thing. One of these days, he's gonna do that, and it'll snap in two, but today doesn't seem to be that day. 

His hand motions toward the lone drink resting on the table, with its obnoxious blue color and lone cherry still swirling from when you toyed with it. "What's that?"

"Something terrible," you're already lifting the glass, holding it out for him to take. 

It's strange seeing him sipping from a dainty cocktail glass. Looks so much smaller when it's in his hand. You're not even sure if he notices the severe lack of juice, entirely unphased by the tequila that greets him. The cherry slips between his parted lips, the stem catching between them. 

"I thought you didn't like cherries?" Your head tilts to the side, curious. 

"I don't." His brow furrows, all too focused on something that you can't see. "But I like doin' this." Before you can begin to process what he's just said, his mouth opens, a tied cherry stem resting on top of his tongue. 

And here you thought you'd seen it all from him. "Is this your new party trick?" 

"Somethin' like that," the stem falls, landing somewhere that you don't see. Maybe you would know if you weren't too busy watching him lean forward, eyes sparkling with something he has yet to share. "Hey, do y' wanna get outta here?" 

"Not having fun?" Your answer is yes, but you're not sharing that yet. 

"I am, but..." then, lowering his voice, as if there's a risk of someone hearing him over the booming music, "'s more fun when it's just us."

You don't know where he's planning to go after this, but you're sold.

"I still can't believe you!" The squeal of the passenger door nearly drowns out your giggles, plastic grocery bags rustling as you climb out of the truck. 

You haven't the slightest clue which bag has the popcorn and which contains the chips, but the weight of the drinks is painfully obvious, the plastic handles rubbing uncomfortably against your arms. Curse the cashier for cramming all the bottles into one bag.

"Yeah, like you ain't never distracted me so you could pay for somethin'." Rhett's still laughing, that big cocky grin plastered across his face.

"But I never pretended I lost my keys!" Raising your voice for added effect, rounding the back of the truck. 

He's already beaten you here, opening the beaten tailgate. "Maybe ya should've." Wink.

Your eyes roll so hard that it hurts. "I'll remember that for the next time we get snacks."

Rhett's shoulder nudges yours, pushing just hard enough to make you sway. "You'll forget." 

"I'll forget." Immediate acceptance. You've sung this tune so many times that even you know that you never follow through in the end. 

The back of his truck is a damn mess; square bales of hay, two empty gas cans, the shredded remnants of a flannel, a handsaw, and you think that's a bag of chicken feed over there in the back corner. The tailgate is the only open space for you to set the bags on, and it's only now that you realize how many snacks you've actually gotten.

"We probably should have gotten dinner at Odessa's instead," you find yourself saying as you poke through one of the bags. Where in the world are those candies you got?

He reaches past you, plucking a stray screwdriver out of the mess that is his truck bed. Something tells you that he's been looking for that. "What makes ya say that?" 

"Look at all the junk we got!" Opening up one of the bags for him to see, as if he wasn't there when you both picked out and bought these things. 

But Rhett just shrugs, "Don't see nothin' wrong with it."  

Hypothetically, it shouldn't take you that long to find your candy. There are only five bags, but even as you poke through them all, you don't see that brightly colored packaging anywhere. But you know they were rung up. They're on the damn receipt! So where the hell...did you miss them somehow?

By the time you find them sitting in the front seat, nestled up against Rhett's lost bag of sunflower seeds, he's already set up the blankets. Thick, old things layered on top of each other as a makeshift cushion, protecting you from the rocky ground lurking beneath the grass. One of the downsides of choosing a pasture to lounge in, you suppose. 

He's already sitting on the corner of his makeshift blanket nest, half-lidded eyes drinking you in as you settle down next to him, your knee clumsily knocking into his thigh. You'd pay attention to him if you weren't too focused on this box of candy, pushing your thumb under the thin cardboard edge, forcing it open. 

Weight appears on your shoulder. 

Those Western romances always talk about the allure of a stoic, gunslinging cowboy, weathered by the elements and the human definition of fearless. They always fail to mention the cowboys who blink up at you like a puppy, too shy to verbally beg for a piece of your snack. 

"Do you want something?" Dipping your fingers into the box, pulling out one of the candies.

Rhett hums. Not quite a yes, but not quite a no, either. It's one of those sounds that you've heard enough times to know what it means, already lifting the first piece of candy to his lips. The scruff of his chin tickles your skin when he takes it.

Blind, your hand feels along his face, stealing away the overwhelming warmth residing there, drinking in the soft drag of his facial hair, finally at that perfect length where it no longer feels like sandpaper but has yet to begin looking like the beginnings of a beard. His tongue presses on the soft inside of his cheek, pushing against your fingers.

"Quit that!" You squeal, yanking your hand back.

"'s it really feel that weird?" His head tilts, and you don't need to look to know that he's peeking up at you.

"Yes!" And there might be more to add to that, but you're pushing one of the candies into your mouth, the sweetness effectively shutting you up. Remaining quiet even as he tilts his head to press a prickly kiss to the side of your neck, such a simple gesture that should not have your lower belly twisting with something familiar.

You've got to think about something else. Something that doesn't involve jumping on and biting him like a flea. Sucking hard on that little piece of candy, eyes scurrying for something to look at. But all you're finding is darkness and more darkness.

No lampposts or porch lights or flickering campfires, just the pale glow of the moon and the speckling of stars hanging in the sky. There are so many of them up there. Almost looks as if someone has dumped a bottle of glitter atop a roll of never-ending black velvet fabric, twinkling proudly against their backdrop of nothingness. 

The weight on your shoulder disappears. Leaves behind an absurd sense of coldness as he gets up to fetch something from the truck. Odd, how you never seem to realize how warm he is until after he's gone. 

Even the poor lighting can't hinder you from taking him in. The rodeo spurs clinging to his muddied boots. The leather chaps that hang low on his hips, with the thin little buckles in the back that squeeze the thick meat of his thighs. You know there's a reason for them to be there, but the irrational part of your brain reckons they exist solely to make you dizzy. 

"Are you ever going to take those chaps off?" You find yourself asking, after a moment, dragging your gaze away from his ass. 

Rhett freezes, his hand still wedged in the plastic bag as he looks down at his own two legs. "Eventually," he pauses, cracking open one of the cans. You haven't a doubt in your mind that it's one of those spiked lemonades he's recently discovered. "Whenever my shoulder loosens up enough t' let me mess with it."

"Need help?" Words firing off your tongue before you can process what they mean.

The black and yellow can lifts to his mouth, poorly concealing the upward turn of his lips. "I ain't never said no to you undressin' me, doll."

One little sentence, and you've forgotten about your candy entirely, letting it fall onto the blankets without any care for whether or not it spills. You've hardly got to move; settling onto your knees is more than enough. He steps forward, standing right on the edge of the blanket, that oversized buckle glimmering in the moonlight. Your fingertips brush over the edge of it, dented from the hoof of last week's bull.

"I thought the clasp broke on this?" Audibly tapping a nail against it as you make your way to the much smaller buckle hanging underneath. Not thin or frail by any means, but the contrasting sizes isn't doing it any favors. 

Your fingers hook beneath the belt, tugging on the tiny strip of leather until he gets the hint.

He grunts, boots shuffling as you drag him forward. "Nothin' a little weldin' couldn't fix." 

It's easier to see the awkward hang of his left shoulder from down here, tense and lifted higher than the right one, like someone's wound the muscle too tight. Maybe that dislocation would have healed correctly if he agreed to that hospital visit. But...here you are.

All you've got to do is pull the leather strap backward, and the prong pops out of the hole. For such tough-looking chaps, they sure come off easily. One weak tug is all it takes to have them falling down his legs, falling as quickly as you'll let them, hands gliding down the sides of his thighs and past his bony knees, eating up as much time as you can.

It's a shame that you don't need to undo the buckles around his thighs, too; you wouldn't mind the tedious process of helping him buckle them back up, either. But it's too late for that. You've already gotten the leather past one of his boots, working it over the other just as quickly. 

Even as you set those old chaps to the side, Rhett doesn't make much of an effort to move, standing idle as you fold them. Eyes locked with yours, transfixed by the simple image of you on your knees, right in front of him. You know what he's thinking. You're thinking it, too. Memories so prominent in your mind that you're already beginning to act on them.

Something booms in the distance. A deep noise that rolls through the pasture like a warning of something more to come. You think that's lightning, you see, flickering in the corner of your eye, but you're not paying attention. You can't. Not when your hands are moving on their own whims, gliding up the sides of his thighs. 

Rhett's hum echoes into his half-empty can. Seems to carry for miles. "Didn't realize we were gettin' another storm."

His breath hitches. Eyelashes fluttering. 

Your hand drifts across the tent in his jeans once more. Warm. Growing heavier with every passing second. "Think we have time?" You ask as if you don't already know the answer. As if there isn't a sudden heat flushing between your legs, the voice in your head impatiently demanding that you hurry up and pinch open his belt.

"'n here y' say I'm the one with a problem," but just like that, he's sinking to his knees. Face to face, all too quickly. 

"It's not my fault that you look like...that!"  Floundering for an escape from the situation you've created all by yourself. 

One side of his mouth quirks upward, that lopsided smile so bright that it ought to put the sun to shame. Wind rips past, nudging his hair out from behind his ear and into his face, but it does nothing to hide his pretty face. Scruffy as it may be.

It must be the breeze that nudges you forward because you don't feel yourself moving. But you're leaning forward, mouth blindly clashing with his. A little too far to the right at first, and then his hair is in the way, and...

oh.

You've missed this. 

It's hardly been a few hours since the last time, but your heart argues that it's been a lifetime and a half. One little chaste peck, and then another, and another, and another, until you cease to part ways altogether. Those big arms wind around you, his palm pressing into the small of your spine, drawing you up against him.

And you're melting into him like ice cream in the summer sun, any semblance of control vanishing alongside it. Hands roaming up the broad expanse of his chest, tickling against his neck, curling around his prickly jaw, tangling in the curls resting at his nape. Your touch is nothing special, and yet he groans into your kiss anyhow. 

Callouses catch on the soft skin of your lower back, his hands shamelessly wandering beneath your shirt. Pulling it off is tempting, but Rhett's lemonade-flavoured tongue is licking into your mouth, and the wind whispers that you don't have the time for that kind of luxury. Not if you don't want to get rained on by another one of Wabangs popup storms. 

But you do have time to reach for his flannel, dragging your finger through the buttons, audibly snapping apart at record speeds. He needs to wear pearl snap flannels more often.

"Shit," he's gasping against your lips, breaking apart for the slightest of seconds, "'s a lil cold."

The world spins around you. Back hitting the ground with all the grace and ease of a newborn deer. A bolt of lightning tears across the sky, set off by the burning hands that appear on your hips, tugging at your waistband. Your body lifts, and they're gone. You're not even sure what has become of your shoes. Don't recall feeling them come off, but your socked feet are sliding against the blanket, fighting for purchase. 

Rhett's eyes snap shut, squeezing so tight that his forehead wrinkles with the effort. 

"What hurts?" You already know that look. Already have a vague idea of what could be bugging him. 

"Shoulder," speaking through gritted teeth, not bothering to ease up, as if relaxing his jaw could bring on another wave of pain. "moved it too fast." Slower this time, he leans forward, hands falling onto either side of you, and—

"Shit." He's hissing under his breath. Sounds more like a snake than a man. There's no way that he's going to be able to put weight on that left arm, not with his shoulder visibly twitching, sent into an angry spasm. 

"This isn't gonna work," you whisper, chasing the dwindling hope that your words will reach his ears but not his already sore ego. 

Rhett hasn't even opened his eyes, but he's already shaking his head. Stubborn to the end. You know what he's going to say before it even leaves his mouth. "Hold on, if you give me a second..."

You've already got an idea. "Lay on your back." Your hands find his chest, gently pressing until he gets the message, limbs awkwardly tangling as you exchange positions. Straddling his plush thighs, settled a little bit lower than you'd intended.

It's not quite what you originally had in mind, but you've never been one to complain about riding a cowboy, already beginning to reach for his belt buckle. You don't know how you found this difficult when you first got together; all it takes is the slightest motion, and it pops open. Then comes his belt and the crooked zipper that struggles to run down the tracks.

His hips jerk, thighs smacking into your ass. "Not that I'm complainin', darlin'," there's a weakness to his voice that wasn't there a moment ago. Like he's run a marathon in the time it took you to blink. "'s there somethin' rilin' you up?"

"No." Then, smiling, "Just you."

Blue eyes dart away. Looking off to the side. "Oh."

If it were lighter outside, you think you'd catch a whisper of a blush coloring his cheeks, but your vision has been reduced to dark blobs of color. Can't even tell what color his boxers are, even when your hand dips through the front of them, blindly reaching until—

Rhett sucks in a breath. 

It's hardly been a few minutes, and yet he's already so damn heavy. Thick in your grasp, a bead of precum running down the underside of his tip. Your thumb swipes across it, dragging it back up to his plush cock head.

"You're already so wet, cowboy," you muse, lazily tracing circles around his slit. There's so much of it. Dripping like a damn faucet, so much precum that you can see the glisten of it in the darkness. 

Thunder rumbles to your left. Closer now. But you just can't help yourself. 

Your mouth finds the underside of his cock. Pressing kisses onto the vein that runs along there, working your way up from his base. Tongue lazily poking out to swirl around his head, so used to the saltiness of his precum that you hardly even notice it. One of those advantages that comes with knowing him like the back of your hand. 

Like how you know that the delicate scrape of your teeth will make him—

"Ah!" Sharp. Pitchy. The closest thing you'll get to a squeal, the kind of sound that has your thighs trying to squeeze together, suddenly warm. 

Something in your jaw pops as you take him into your mouth. Sucking lazily, like you're savoring a piece of candy, not even making an effort to stop the drool from slipping past your lips. The wetter the better. Because you're pretty sure you know the answer to the question you're about to ask.

"Condom?" Pulling off of him with a soft 'pop.' 

Rhett's head tilts toward the truck, brow furrowing, visibly thinking for a moment. Then, his lips flatten into a line. "'s in my jeans at home."

Thunder rumbles once more, urging your already racing thoughts to scramble even faster. Pulling out could be an option if not for the fact that it's never worked out for you in the past, always seeming to forget in your final moments. Riding in that bouncy passenger seat with his cum leaking out of you has never been the most comfortable thing. Cleaning up is the worst, but...

Fuck, you really can't seem to make yourself care about any of that.

Rhett's belly flexes with the effort to sit up, his right elbow bracing his weight. A familiar blob of black peeks out from beneath his open flannel, that old bucking bull tattoo. Under the thin veil of darkness, it's easy to convince yourself that it's brand new. That the poor-quality ink hasn't caused it to fade quicker than it should have. 

A kiss presses to your cheek. "What're ya thinkin'?" 

"A little mess never hurt anyone," you don't know if you're talking to him or yourself. Maybe both. 

You don't realize how close you are until your noses clash, knocking together as you squirm up to settle in his lap. His left hand finds its way to your hip, burning against your chilly skin. Doesn't do anything more than rest there, touching you for the sake of touching you. 

It's a bit crude, reaching down to pull your underwear to the side rather than pulling them off entirely. But then you're guiding him up, and his dripping tip is dragging through your folds, and you can't think about anything else. 

"You're just as bad as I am," Rhett's laugh is so much bigger than any of that distant thunder, rumbling through you in delicate waves. 

"Like this hasn't been a known fact for years," and for that statement of his alone, you're stringing this out even longer. Bringing him back up before he can begin to sink into you, selfishly rubbing him against your clit, sensitive from lack of attention.

Lightning flickers. Rhett's hips shift, slipping back down your cunt, stubbornly nudging against your entrance. Manages to lift himself enough to create a blooming pressure there, the very tip of him slipping inside. 

Fuck, you're still aching from the bit of fun you had before the rodeo. Tangled up on the couch, too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to the rapidly ticking clock. Or maybe the discomfort is from the severe lack of lube. Nothing but spit, precum, and your own wetness to soothe the drag of him as you begin to sink down on him.

"Mmph," Rhett's head tilts back, pale throat exposed. "How're you so—shit. How're you still so damn tight?"

On its own, something in your lower belly loosens, almost as if it didn't realize it was doing it in the first place. Allows you the fleeting courtesy of a breath of air before his tip fully slips into you. Heat jumps up your spine, swirling around in the back of your head. 

"I should ask you the same thing," your voice comes out weaker than what you anticipated, "why are you so damn big?"

And all that's done is make him laugh again. Nose nudging your cheek as he leans in to press another kiss to your lips, his smile too big for it to be anything more than a peck. But you want more, chasing after him as he tries to lean away, helpless to do anything but fall forward. 

Gravity quickens the glide of your body, his cock sinking further into you. The curve of him rubs into a set of nerves, never has taken very long for him to find them, thick length incessantly dragging against it. 

A heavy fist strikes the land to the west, the resounding boom washing over the surprised grunt that wrangles its way out of Rhett's throat. The only reason you catch note of it is from the way it rumbles against your bottom lip, pulling the corners of your mouth up into a giddy smile. 

All too quickly, you're fully seated in his lap, fitting against him like a puzzle piece. Bodies carved to fit seamlessly against one another, lost in the blending of limbs, tangling until you can no longer tell where one of you begins and the other ends. A shiver races up your spine, pussy involuntarily spasming around his thick cock. 

"Didn't think I was gonna be the one gettin' ridden tonight," there's no reason for Rhett to be grinning up at you like this, with that healing split in his lip and those glistening eyes. Mesermized. As if he's taking in the sight of a precious painting lost for centuries. 

If you didn't know any better, you would think he was looking at the stars behind your head.

But he's only looking at you. 

It's got you lifting yourself a little too quickly; haven't even begun to adjust to his size yet. "You'd better hope it lasts longer than eight seconds."

Something sharp digs into your knee as you lift yourself, but it's impossible to pay attention to. So fucking full of him that your every racing thought has wrapped itself around the shape of his name. Oh, and it's not helped by the burning drag of his cock; a little too big for you to be riding him without lube. 

You're sinking back down when his hips lips, snapping up into you midway. Fuck, you're burning alive out here. Growing wetter from that little motion alone, that tingling heat climbing your spine and settling into your cheeks. 

"Impatient," you're huffing, lacking any bit of the conviction you'd hoped you would have.

"Them bulls buck, y'know," that smug grin of his falters as your hips swivel, readjusting yourself, "'m just playin' my part."

So annoying. 

So, so annoying.

Something about the change in an angle has him rubbing up against something he hadn't before, air catching in your throat as he presses directly into it. Shit, it's too early for your thighs to be shivering like they are, and it's all you can do to flatten your palms against his chest, forcing yourself to remain upright. 

"Keep—mmh keep doin' that." Stupid cowboys and their stupidly pretty whines. Has no right to be squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head back and forth like he's trying to shake the feel of you out of his head.

And he just keeps rubbing against those little nerves, over and over and over. Stars sparkle across your vision, so many of them that you can no longer tell which hang high in the sky and which stem from your own imagination. Whether or not that's thunder or the hammer of your own heart, you're not even remotely sure. 

A stray hand meanders up your back, his touch so feather-light and ticklish that it's got you arching away from it. Unintentionally angling him into those soft little spots even more, your pussy clenching around him so tightly that you nearly freeze in place. 

You hardly feel yourself reaching for his wrists. Only recognize the feel of them in your grasp, thick and strong from years of manual labor, yet so willing to be pinned over his head. Falling into place like they always longed to be there.

"Fuck," Rhett's teeth sink into his bottom lip, stifling a noise that you wish you could have caught, "so fuckin' pretty on top of me." 

"And here I thought you were marveling at the storm," panting into the open air like a damn dog, breathless all too quickly. As if the slow rise and fall of your hips is simply too much for you to handle. 

Rhett's biceps flex, muscle visibly rippling as the thunder crackles. "Nah," grunting, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, "could watch y' ride me all fuckin' day." 

God, what is it about sex that makes him so fucking talkative?

Your hand darts out to the side. Blindly patting the blankets until you find one of the candies that spilled out of the container, shoving it past his parted lips before he can utter another word.

His mouth wobbles. Torn between a smile and something he wants to say. Neither manages to win the upper hand, instead beaten by a secret third thing. Because now he's sitting up, wearily bracing himself on that good arm, eyes falling shut midway as he leans in to kiss you. Knocking into each other so abruptly that your teeth audibly clatter.

But the wind is twirling past you with a kind of ferocity that wasn't there before, and in the back of your mind you're convinced that you've inadvertently caused it to happen. Distant storm falling into a rage as you tumble forward, forearms resting on either side of his head, hands in his hair, drowning yourself in the lemonade and candy that paints his tongue. 

Something sparks behind your eyes. "Rhett..."

He doesn't respond. Doesn't need to. The lift of his hips is more than enough of a reply, so sudden that it rips a sharp noise out of your throat. A decade of bull riding has made him too fucking strong for his own good, pushing up into you with devastating ease. 

This...thisis something. His breath tickling your skin. Your chest against his, nails scraping at his scalp. Helpless to do nothing but whine as he brushes against those little spots once more. Long, heaving motions that jostle you with every thrust, your eyes already struggling to remain open. 

"Rhett," repeating yourself like a broken record, panting into his ear like you're getting paid to do it.

The ground shakes. Lightning strikes somewhere in the distance, volting through the soil, up through your knees, and into your belly. Or maybe it's not lightning at all, simply the dizzying sensation of his cock driving up into you with a sickeningly wet noise. You can't help the way your legs squeeze impossibly tight around him. Can't stop the familiar tingle from settling into your core, spreading down into your thighs. 

You don't remember when the babbling started, but you can hear the sound of your name twisting through the air, chanting beneath his breath like a melody. His prickly cheek rubs against yours, and you just know that it's going to leave your skin raw, but you can't bring yourself to pull away. 

"'m gonna..." the rasp of his voice has you clamping tighter around him. A whimper slips off his tongue. "I—"

He doesn't need to finish that sentence. One look is all you need. 

You are, too. 

There's no need for you to reach down and touch yourself. His cock alone is enough to have you crumbling like a house of cards, burying your head into the crook of his neck, unable to muffle every little noise he punches out of you. Downright merciless as he rubs into those sensitive little nerves over and over and over and—

A ghost of wind is enough to push you over the edge. Tumbling over the edge and into the abyss, the world around you going quiet as you cum around his cock. Not a sound breaking past your lips, head swirling round and round until you can no longer tell which way is up. 

You're only distantly aware of the sudden stalling of Rhett's hips, pushing up into you so hard that he lifts you up. Can't miss the sensation of his cock twitching, his cum spilling into your pussy, rope after rope of it, so much that you think you can feel it pooling inside of you.

A drop of rain hits your shoulder. Cold. Biting into your skin with its sharp little teeth. 

The storm is so much closer now, thick clouds hanging overhead, blocking out the stars entirely. Electricity arcs across the sky as you begin to lift yourself up before your body is even ready to move. 

Rhett's cock slips out of you with an awkward noise, slapping audibly against his belly. Shit, you can already feel it beginning to spill out, don't know how you plan to get home without making a mess of your clothes. 

A groan sounds from below you. "So fuckin' full of it," the soft tip of his cock presses back into you, and you don't need to look to know that Rhett's eyes are fixated on the obscene sight of his cum leaking out of you. "God damn."

"Well, don't...mmh, don't keep pushing it in," but your complaint is futile, and you're making no effort to try and stop him. No point in it, you suppose; it's not as if you can clean yourself up out here. 

He chuckles at that. You think the stars have secretly gathered in his eyes, sparkling in those deep blues. "Can't do nothin' 'bout it now."

"Hold on!" Your giggles echo through the kitchen, wet feet stumbling across the tile. "I can't move that fast!" 

But Rhett's hand keeps tugging you along, sliding around the corner and into the hallway. Water pours from his hair and shoulders, speckling across the floor, leaving a trail in his wake. A mess that you'd complain about if not for your own soaked clothes, so cold that you've gone entirely numb. 

Lights flicker overhead, power fading in and out as the storm rages on. Rain striking the windows so hard that you can hear it, even as you fumble down the hallway. Wet socks slide against the tile as you try to turn, your shoulder bumping into Rhett's. His hip smacks into the door frame. Your feet tangle. 

"We ain't never doin' that again," he's stumbling toward the shower, reaching for the knobs. Twists until he can't crank the hot water up any hotter. Something, anything to melt away the ice that's about to freeze over your skin.

You reach for the hem of your shirt, the fabric clinging to you like a second skin. "I thought you liked having sex outside."

"I do," he pauses, pulling the material over your head. It audibly hits the floor, the beginnings of yet another mess. "I don't like downpours 'n hail!" 

The red mark on his forehead is only just beginning to bloom, sure to darken as the night rages on. It's a little too high up to be blamed on a bar fight, but you're sure he'll find a way to play it off when his momma asks about what happened. 

Your pants are on the floor before he can finish getting his flannel off, not a care in the world for where they land. Your mind only has enough room for one thought at a time: hot water. A cloud of steam greets you as you step into the shower. The water has yet to hit your skin, and yet you can already feel yourself melting, the heat eating away at the invisible frost that has long since settled upon you. 

It's almost too hot, the spray seeming to burn little holes straight through your chest, and your toes sting. Such a sharp contrast compared to the heat that you wonder if it'll eat you alive.

A firm chest presses against your naked back, familiar arms settling loosely around your waist. "Y' jus' gonna leave me behind like that?" His attempt at sounding irritated doesn't miss your ears, but it dies before he can finish the sentence. Isn't helped by the kisses that appear on your shoulder.  

"If you can ride bulls, then you can climb into the shower by yourself," leaning back into him, your eyes fall closed. It might be the first time you've blinked since the rain began to fall, starting the moment you'd begun gathering the blankets into your arms. Mother Nature's punishment for not taking her warnings seriously.

Rhett hums, the vibration tickling the side of your neck. "Then." Kiss. "I should probably." Kiss. "Tell you." Kiss. "That we didn't bring any clean clothes..." Kiss. "Or towels."

...the towels. 

Your groan bounces off the tile walls and out into the hallway, probably even ventures past the closet and out into the living room. Why did it never occur to you to grab towels and clothes before you climbed in here?

"We'll rock paper scissors it after we rinse off," it's the same solution he uses for every conflict, but you find yourself agreeing with the idea anyway. 

He loses. Never deviates from playing rock, even when he knows full well that you will forever play paper. You're not sure if he's waiting for the day that you crack and play scissors or if he's intentionally losing, but you've got the sneaking suspicion it's the latter. He's way too content to dart into the hallway for towels, returning with more than either of you could possibly need.

"Did you grab every towel in the closet?" You laugh as you pull one of them around your shoulders, hugging it to yourself like a blanket. It's too damn cold in this house.

"No," then, grinning, "I left one behind."

He's gone before you've finished drying off, comes back one more time with your favorite pajamas in his hand, then disappears into the darkness of the house. Where he's gone, you're not sure; it's hard to tell when he never turns any of the lights on, navigating based on muscle memory alone. 

But you can hear the television turning on, your forgotten movie picking up right where it left off. 

"Rhett?" Calling out as you mosey out of the bathroom.

Damp carpet squishes beneath your feet, frigid and not at all what you expected to find yourself standing on. Only seems to get worse as you make your way down the hall, hopelessly soaked with rainwater. The old fan is already out, cool air blowing across the worst of it, licking at your heels when you step past.

Rhett's pale shoulders stick out like a sore thumb in the living room. All too visible as he moves around, hands audibly patting something down on the couch. Blankets. The ones off the bed, out of the closet, hell, he's grabbed the decorative one off the rocking chair. All to build an oversized nest, high around the edges, like he's trying to keep something out. So focused on the task at hand that he doesn't notice you until it's too late.

"Jesus!" His naked back jumps away from you as if burned by your kiss.

"Watcha buildin'?" Your speech mimicking his just a little more than usual, already leaning in to press a second kiss in between the knobs of his spine. Rhett twists in your arms before you can land a third, the swell of his chest mere inches from your lips now.

You'll smooch him here, too. 

"Our last line of defense," his giggle rides on the coattails of another roll of thunder. "Jus' in case that storm knocks out the power 'n steals our heat."

You don't realize his arms are around you until he's falling toward the couch, taking you right along with him, landing in a messy heap on top of the blankets. A box of candy rattles behind your back. Someone bumps into the remote, the movie pausing on the television screen. 

A piece of the candy bounces off your chin, narrowly misses landing back in Rhett's hand. You find it squished between your chests, pushing it between his parted lips. 

"Y' gonna keep force feedin' me candy?" He asks, that little candy rolling across his tongue as he speaks. Wonder if you'll be able to taste it if you kiss him. 

You lean in, nuzzling your noses together. "It's my new party trick."

His eyes roll so hard that you hope they'll get stuck. 

[awkward-walking-potato]

An Easy Fix

It's a cool autumn evening when your car decides to break down in the middle of nowhere. The engine sputters, coughs, and then gives out entirely. You curse under your breath, pulling over to the side of the road. It’s getting dark, and the last thing you want is to be stranded here overnight.

After a few minutes of trying to get the car to start again, you give up. With a sigh, you grab your jacket, step out of the car, and start walking down the road. Not far ahead, you notice a large, looming structure in the distance. As you get closer, you realize it’s an impressive, mansion-like building. There's a sign out front that reads "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters."

The place seems both welcoming and mysterious, but right now, it’s your best bet. You approach the entrance and ring the bell. After a moment, the door opens, and you’re greeted by a tall, muscular man with red-tinted glasses.

"Can I help you?" he asks, his voice calm but commanding.

"Yeah, my car broke down a little way back," you explain. "I was hoping someone here could help me out. I didn’t know there was a school in the area."

The man nods, considering your situation for a moment before introducing himself. "I'm Scott Summers. I can take a look at your car. Wait here."

A few minutes later, Scott comes out with a toolbox in hand. You lead him to your car, and he gets to work, carefully inspecting the engine. As he does, you find yourself watching him more than anything else. There's something magnetic about him, the way he moves, the quiet confidence in his actions.

"Looks like a simple fix," he finally says, pulling out a few tools. "You should be back on the road in no time."

"Thank you so much," you reply, genuinely grateful. "I wasn’t sure what I was going to do."

"No problem," Scott responds, glancing up at you. "It's what I do."

As he finishes up, the two of you make small talk. You learn a bit about the school, and he explains that it’s a place for students with unique abilities. The more you talk, the more you feel a connection growing between the two of you. There's an intensity in his gaze, even through those red glasses, that makes your heart race a little faster.

Finally, the car is fixed. You thank him again, but as you’re about to get in and drive off, you hesitate. You don’t want to leave just yet. There's something unspoken lingering in the air between you.

"Listen," he says, his voice a little unsteady. "I know this might sound crazy, but… would you want to come back to the school with me? I could show you around, maybe we could… talk some more?"

You pauses, considering his offer. Then nod slowly. "Yeah,I’d like that."

Back at the school, Scott gives you a brief tour, but it’s clear that neither of you is really focused on the history of the building or the curriculum. The tension between you is almost palpable. When you reach a more secluded area of the mansion, Scott stops walking, turning to face you fully.

"There's something about you," he says quietly, his gaze intense. "Something that… draws me in."

You take a step closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest. "I feel the same way."

Before either of you can say anything else, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his. The kiss is electric, filled with all the pent-up tension from the evening. Scott wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more desperate.

One thing leads to another, and soon you find yourselves in one of the more private rooms of the mansion. The rest of the world fades away as you lose yourselves in each other, the connection you felt earlier blossoming into something intense, something undeniable.

Afterward, you lie together in the quiet, the only sound your breathing as you both come down from the high of the moment. Scott’s hand gently strokes your hair as you rest against him.

"I guess I owe you more than just a thank you," you murmur, a smile tugging at your lips.

Scott chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. "I think we’re even."

[thelov3lybookworm]

Remember me? (Part 11)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: honestly dedicated to @thehighladywrites because we love High Lord Eris in this house 😏😌🫶🏻

also, i feel like this timeline ca be confusing because i honestly dont know what im doing lol so just so you all are aware, this part is supposed to be based on the time just before feyre has fled the night court 😉

(Not edited as i am going to slee, sorry! ignore any mistakes ❣️)

•○🌑○•

The curtains were parted to let in a gentle autumn breeze which toyed with the ends of Y/n's hair, and she huffed gently when she felt someone watching her.

She finished adjusting the covers around the sleeping Fin, taking her time to smooth out the creases before she straightened, turning to find Eris leaning against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes trained on the softly snoring boy on the bed.

And he was shirtless.

Y/n told herself it was not that big of a deal, that she had seen plenty of men naked, but seeing that pale expanse of skin covering those hard earned muscles, something shifted in her belly.

He glanced at her, blinking when she stepped forward. He straightened when Y/n continued walking forward, and his arms fell at his sides when she passed by him.

Her brows furrowed as she glanced at him and found a blush covering his face.

"Eris? Are you alright? Is your magic malfunctioning or something?"

He shook his head, still standing in the doorway. She paused to turn an watch him.

"You look a little red, you know. Are you sure you don't have a fever?"

He shook his head again, glancing back at Fin once before he inclined his head towards the corridor leading away from the boy's room.

To say Y/n was concerned and confused would be an understatement.

Eris closed the door to Fin's room gently, then grasped Y/n's hand, hesitantly, tugging her towards a large window nearby.

Y/n whirled towards him the moment he stopped walking. "Eris? What is going on?"

He didn't say anything, simply pulled out a piece of paper from the pocket of the pants that hung dangerously low on his hips.

Y/n's frustrations finally got the best of her. "Are we playing charades, Eris? Or did someone cut off your tongue?"

He sighed. "I did not want to be the bearer of bad news, but I guess I still am as I brought you the letter. It's from Feyre. Forgive me for reading it, but it was open when it fell onto my desk."

Y/n's heart slowed down in fright. It... It could also be something good, right? It didn't have to be about her leaving Rhysand. It could be about him getting better and apologizing...

Y/n knew how stupid it was, really, to hope for that.

And even if that hope had really come true, Feyre was responsible enough to not send the letter practically in the middle of the night.

Y/n opened the folded piece of paper, her eyes moving frantically as she read it and searched for words that would soothe her worries.

It was all in vain.

Y/n, I can't live here anymore. I will soon be winnowing to autumn with Nyx. I hope you don't mind.

Y/n suppressed the rage that reared its head in her chest, taking a deep breath as her eyes rose to meet Eris's.

His eyes held the same sadness she felt and was sure were displayed in her own eyes.

"I have weakened the wards enough for both of them to come through without any harm coming to them, and have already ordered the servants to prepare quarters for them to live in. You don't have to worry about much."

Grateful, Y/n moved without realising what she was doing. One moment, she was standing facing him, the cool autumn air curling around her, and the next, she was surrounded by warmth, her face buried in his shoulder, her arms thrown around her neck. He stiffened, but moments later, he relaxed with a heavy sigh, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Thank you." She mumbled onto his welcoming skin, tightening her hold, knowing she shouldn't.

She felt him nod, and she pulled back to glance at him.

If there was any chance Y/n had been mistaken before about him blushing, she wasn't now.

He definitely was blushing, as red as the colour of the leaves in the court he ruled.

"It- it's nothing."

Despite the heavy news that they had received, Y/n felt her lips curl. "Are you blushing, Vanserra?"

He huffed. "Of course not. Why would I blush?"

"You know," Y/n began as se stopped leaning on him and straightened, though his hands tightened on her waist, as if unwilling to let go. Y/n chose to remain silent on the matter. "It is not nice to lie. Did your mother not teach you?"

He leaned his head closer, a smirk forming on his lips. "She might have, but she also focused more on how to treat the female you love the right way. Must've forgotten about the lying lessons."

Y/n blinked, her face going hot. But before she could say anything, she felt Eris stiffen under her arms. He pulled away instantly, tearing his hands through his hair.

"She's here."

Y/n nodded, her hands falling heavily to her sides.

"Let's go welcome them."

•○🌑○•

Part 12

Remember me Taglist: @holb32 @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten @txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta @fides25 @nocasdatsgay @acourtofbatboydreams @stained-glass-eyes0708 @glaciuswduo @wallacewillow0773638 @cassie6392 @quackitysdrugdealer @txzii @anuttellaa @coisas-da-dani @hnyclover @sassyslytherinshai @historygeekqueen

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Eris taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter

[theolmtales]

Autumn evening (Gender neutral)

Murro X Reader

You're looking for your companion after hearring about a fight.

Rated: Fluff

Warning: Getting partially crush by a boar.

Note: Just for a general understanding since I still haven't made a post about how I view this manor universe. Basically, everyone's canon game happened & they got stuck in the manor outside of time since than (there's a slight mention of canon game, which is why I say that.).

Also @committingcrimes-2047 (also love that name) made a post reminding me of my love for Murro. So I took a break from correcting my next os (which I totally did not start correcting...) to write something small for my man. So to every fellow Murro lover, here's some food. I really hope you guys like it. There will be more. I just don't know when.

If you got ideas for characters who don't have a lot written for, I'm open to hear them out & try to write about them.

The sound of the autumn leaves crunches under your feet. The breeze is getting colder by the days, the warm of summer fading like a distant memory. You make your way to the manor outskirts, heading into the woods and following the trail left by the person you’re looking for.

There had been an umpteenth clash between the survivors today. You hadn’t been there to witness it, but from what your heard, this time it was Mike and Naib. Mike is infamously known for snapping at anyone who brings back his bad memories or speak ill of Murro, his last relative. And with Naib and Murro not being on the friendliest term... You had a pretty good idea of what the fight must have been about.

What a shame… Only two more days and the record of days without any fight would have been surpasses. Guess it will stay at 8 days. Hey, everyone has their way of keeping themselves sane here.

With more than 40 people now stuck in this place, it was getting too crowded for you. You’d much rather be outside, away from all that noise. The sound of the wind among the branches was already making you feel better. Though that was not your main reason to be here this time.

Your eyes finally land on the person you’d been looking for. Leaves and twigs are entangled in his greying brown locks. His back turned to you as he crouches to the level of his companion, scratching him.

‘‘Trying to escape the noise again?’’ He asks you, without even looking back.

‘‘How do you always know it’s me?’’

That is not an understatement. Whatever the place or the number of people around him, he always knows that it’s you. He’ll call you’re name if you come up behind him or turn his head right at you as you walk into the room.

‘‘The way you walk.’’ He looks at you smiling as you crouch down beside him, joining the scratching session to his companion bliss. ‘‘I find the sound of your footsteps easy to recognize.’’

‘‘So that’s your secret. Can you recognize everyone?’’

‘‘Not at all. I usually have a general idea of who it might be, but the ones I can always recognize are you and most of the Hullaballoo’s. Naib’s too, but that’s another story.’’ He says his smile turning a little sour. You wince, knowing what he’s referring to.

‘‘Actually, I came to see if you were alright. I heard that Mike got into an argument or fight with Naib. Knowing you, you probably try to diffuse it, right? Since no one was injured.’’ You say taking a seat on some fallen birch. Murro joins you on your improvised bench, his companion ruffling himself before going to search on the soil for something to eat around here.

‘‘Ah, that…’’ He looks away, his hand scratching the back of his head as he thinks about what happened. You put your hand on top of the one that rest on the fallen tree.

‘‘I take it wasn’t just some bickering?’’

Murro sigh. ‘‘Mike found out that Naib was the one to kill me.’’

‘‘Oh… He didn’t know?’’

‘‘No, I always made sure not to bring it up and made excuses whenever he would ask me why I was so unease with him. I knew it would escalate and the last thing we need is more reasons to fight.’’ He presses his fingers into the wood, while letting you keep your hand on top of his.

‘‘No wonder shit got loose. Mike gets really aggressive whenever it concerns Hullaballoo and its people. Pretty sure he doesn’t like me being around you too much either.’’ You say half joking.

‘‘I’ll talk to him about it. Hullaballoo was his whole life and family. He’s very protective of what is left. But he shouldn’t be like that to you.’’

You put your head on his shoulder and intertwine your fingers together as you continue the conversation. ‘‘Meh it’s ok. What happened in the end? The fight I mean.’’

‘‘Oh, I just had to restrain Mike, Naib just ignored him. As long as people don’t become physical with him, he doesn’t react much.’’ His head comes to rest on top of yours as he squeezes your hand in return. ‘‘It’s getting Mike to calm down and drop it that was hard. I’m worried for the next time they’ll see each other.’’

Sensing the distress of his friend, Murro’s companion comes back and let himself drop on your feet. Pressing himself against your legs and resting his head on Murro’s lap to comfort him.

‘‘Oh boy…’’ You start. ‘‘I think my legs just got crushed into powder.’’

‘‘Wait until he gets overly excited and runs into you.’’ He says laughing.

‘‘Murro… Normally constitute people can die from that… Or at least fatally injured. I’m surprised you can still walk!’’ You say looking up at him with disbelief.

Murro avoids your look, thinking fast as he pets his companion manes. ‘‘He’s the runt of the litter.’’

‘‘That’s still pretty dangerous…’’ You sigh while smiling. ‘‘Oh well, I can’t be mad at you and even less at this cutie.’’ you say to his companion as you scratch his chin with your free hand. The companion seems pretty pleases with your scratches.

Murro looks at the two of you interacting. Warmth flooding in his chest at the sight of the two of you getting along so well. People finding boar cute didn’t run the street. And his boar was an important part of his family.

The two of you stay like that for a while. Taking in the cool breeze and resting on each others’ shoulders with your eyes closed. Thinking about nothing, just taking in the peace. And your legs getting more and more crushed as Murro’s companion was falling asleep.

It doesn’t take long for the dawn air to start settling in, and goosebump coming with it.

‘‘Should we head inside?’’ Murro asks you. Feeling cold too.

‘‘But the noiseeee…’’ You pout.

Murro’s sight. ‘‘You know that the manor is big enough for us to be away from the others? Even in the communal spaces.’’

‘‘Maybe for you, but everyone is so noisy in there. Even their silence is noisy. You’re the only one’s that’s not.’’

‘‘Alright, alright. But once it’s dark we go back inside. We’ll both catch a cold otherwise’’ he says with a sigh. But even with your eyes closed you can feel his smile. He also prefers to be out anyway. Put unlike you, the manor feels claustrophobic for him.

‘‘mmhm!’’ That’s your only answer as you nuzzle more comfortably into his neck.

You break the silence not long after.

‘‘You know, in books they said kissing makes you feel warms~’’

“‘Oh really?’’ He scoffs playfully at your sentence.

‘‘It doesn’t hurt to give it a try.’’

‘‘You know you don’t need to make up excuses to have more kisses. I was out in matches a lot these days. I missed you too.’’

‘‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’’ You answer playfully as he rolls his eyes playfully.

His face comes looking for yours. His lips getting to yours softly, as you lift you head for a better access. The tip of his mustache tickling your skin during your exchange of soft kisses. You nibble at his lips teasingly, your free hand going up to rest on his face. Your fingers intertwine in his wild beard while your thumb caress his cheek.

The air around you two gets warmer and you open your mouth to let him in. His own hand going to your neck as he gets a taste of you. Something he’s been longing for some time now.

Unable to move your legs, the position isn’t the most comfortable, but right now it doesn’t matter. You just feel great with him.

Soon you both part ways to take in some air. You close your eyes as Murro caress the back of your neck with his thumb. Resting your forehead against each other. The sounds of frogs signaling the night fall.

‘‘It’s time to go.’’ He says reluctance in his voice.

‘‘We can’t wake up your companion. That would be so cruel!’’

‘‘We said, at night we go back.’’

‘‘You never specify when during the night~’’

‘‘…’’ He should have seen that one coming.

[autumnshighlady]

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 27)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: the long awaited wedding is here

warnings: IC slander, mentions of vomiting

word count: 5.2k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: i haven't updated in months and i am so sorry, my life completely spiralled again and someone very close to me passed so it has been rough and i have not been coping well. enjoy this chapter, we have about 4-5 more left in this story

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23 / part 24 / part 25 / part 26 /

read on ao3

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

READER POV

TWO WEEKS LATER

Your stomach churned as if readying to unload what little breakfast you had eaten all over your skirts. The room seemed too small, too tight, bustling with servants whose sole focus was on getting you ready. The air was thick, choking your throat as you tried to breathe deeply. No matter how hard you tried, your lungs would not expand fully. The chattering voices of the servants, who were once silent shadows working under the dark cloud of Beron Vanserra’s rule, was drowned out amidst the noise in your brain.

Desperately fanning your face, you were lightly scolded by a young servant with bright red hair brushing out your eyebrows. “Don’t do that, my Lady!” She chided gently. “You’ll ruin my masterpiece!”

“Sorry…” You muttered, forcing your hands back to your sides. It had been a long time since you had worn a full face of makeup, and you had missed it greatly. The redhead servant had lined your eyes with kohl, smudging out brown and gold shadows on your lids. Your cheeks had been blushed and bronzed to perfection, and a thin, nude sheen across your lips. 

At your apology, she looked shocked for a moment before the tenseness left her shoulders and she relaxed. Your heart ached for her, and for everyone who had worked for the past few centuries under Beron. His harsh rule would be a wound that only time would heal for many. It was evident in the behaviour of everyone in the palace – the surprise when simple mistakes were brushed off after an apology rather than a lashing, the rising warmth of the atmosphere in the palace that had once been silent and cold. Sure, Eris still ruled firmly and it would take a while for everyone to realise he was not his father. But little by little, the icy walls of the Autumn Court were beginning to thaw.

“Wedding nerves, I guess.” You said casually as a set of dangly gold earrings were placed on your ears. Never before had you had this many sets of hands tending to you. A tall male was carefully working on your hair, twisting a loose braid across the back of your head and artfully arranging the rest of your loose hair. Several times, you had attempted to sneak a glance in the mirror to see the full look, but too many servants stood in the way.

“It is certainly a big day for you, my Lady.” The redhead servant agreed, finishing the final touches on your face. Her hands were soft and delicate, light as feathers as she blended any smudges her expert eyes sought out. “An unusual event for the court, too.”

You tensed slightly. “I know it’s not your typical wedding or anything–” you began. But her soft chuckle interrupted you.

“Forgive me,” she said softly. “I did not mean for it to come across that way. It is a new beginning for everyone, and this place could do with some change. The only ones who have an issue with your marriage and title are the old courtiers and males stuck in their ways. But us servants do not share those beliefs. You have our support, my Lady.”

Your heart warmed at her kind and open words, and a smile found its way across your face. “What is your name?” You asked.

“Adelaide, my Lady.”

You gently grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you, Adelaide.”

Adelaide smiled, dipping her head respectfully before grabbing her supplies and beginning the cleanup process. As the busy hands of the servants began to slow, you realised that the moment was approaching faster and faster with each moment. Finally, you took a deep breath, and when the servants retreated their hands for a moment, you shifted to face the large mirror across from you.

Awe filled you as you took in their work. Your hair was styled beautifully, leaving only a few soft strands framing your face while the rest curled down behind your shoulders. Your eyes were striking, the various jewellery you donned designed to match beautifully. Tears welled in your eyes as you finally drank in the sight of your dress. The soft white fabric had red roses and vines embroidered on the bottom of the skirts as well as the bodice. The sleeves were loose, gathering around your wrists in just the right way. The neckline was a modest V shape, complimenting the emerald necklace sat on your chest. For just a moment, your heart ached knowing your mother would never get to see you married. It made more tears well up.

“Now, now, what did I say about ruining my masterpiece?” Adelaide chided, taking a cloth and dabbing under your eyes to catch any stray tears.

“Sorry,” You winced, forcing your tears back. “You guys have done an amazing job. Thank you, all of you.”

The servants grinned proudly at each other, bowing their heads as they cleaned up at the speed of light. “Your escort should be here shortly to walk you down the aisle.” The male servant who had done your hair said. And then just like that, they were gone. Leaving you with your own thoughts.

Your heart was racing. After all these weeks of planning, it was finally here. You weren’t sure why you were nervous – you loved Nesta and Eris. This wedding, this moment of time, was everything you had worked for and more since your arrival in the Night Court. Every sacrifice, every hard choice, had all led to this day. Yet it hardly felt real, even as you stood in your wedding dress, staring in the mirror in awe of your reflection. Countless hours had been spent helping the staff decorate, tasting hundreds of food samples for the menu, sitting bored out of your mind with Nesta and Eris at various meetings regarding not just the wedding, but the official crowning ceremony as well. All of that led to this very moment. And you were sure you were going to vomit.

Thankfully, a familiar voice sounded in your head, halting your rising stomach juices. Please don’t throw up on your dress, I can feel your nerves from here. Nesta scolded. At the sound of her voice, you felt yourself relaxing a bit.

I make no promises, you replied. How are you so composed right now? I’m freaking out.

She snorted. I can tell. Are you forgetting I spent practically a decade training for this thanks to mother dearest?

Right. How could I possibly forget that?

You’ll be fine. We’ve made it this far, a wedding is nothing.

I wish I could see you right now.

Soon enough, love. Just wanted to check in. I’ll see you at the altar.

Ok. I love you.

I love you, too.

Your heart sung at her words. Hearing Nesta say she loved you was like listening to the most beautiful song you had ever heard, one you would never get tired of. The three of you had agreed to keep dresses a secret, saving the big reveal for the aisle. You were itching to simply run out of the room and seek out Nesta and Eris, desperately wanting to see them before the wedding. 

A knock at the door interrupted your urges, and you shook your nerves off as the wood swung open to reveal Lucien. Your jaw dropped as your friend entered the room dressed in heavy green robes with gold accents and a long cloak. His hair was intricately braided back, accenting his chiselled, handsome, face. Lucien smirked at your reaction. “I know, I look hot.” He said, chuckling. 

“This is the fanciest I’ve ever seen you dress.” You scoffed.

“Take it all in now, honey. Because it won’t happen again.”

You rolled your eyes. “As High Lady I order you to dress this nicely more often.”

Lucien let out a laugh. “I will defect to Winter Court if this new title keeps inflating your big head like this.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling at this point. A comfortable silence settled over you and your best friend as Lucien looked you up and down. His voice was full of wonder as he spoke. “You look amazing. Truly.”

“Thank you, Lucien.” You said as you smoothed your skirts. The room began to feel stifling again as you realised he was here because it was time to walk down the aisle to Nesta and Eris. “Oh gods, it’s time, isn’t it?”

Lucien nodded, extending his arm towards you. “Yes. As much as it’s fun to see you freak out over your own wedding, it’s time to get it together. Your partners are waiting.”

You took one last glance in the mirror to make sure nothing was amiss before stepping off the pedestal with shaky legs, grabbing onto your friend’s arm. “Lucien?” You said tentatively, your voice sounding far away as you tried to calm your breathing. “Don’t let me fall.”

Lucien’s voice was gentle. “Never,” he assured you. So you clung onto his arm, willing strength into your body as you lifted your chin and followed him out of the room.

 *********************

NESTA POV

Nesta steadied her breathing, thankful she had put on a brave face for you during your brief exchange. Truthfully, she was just as much of a wreck as you were. True, her mother had spent years priming her for marriage, but this was not what Mrs. Archeron had had in mind for her eldest daughter. For a split second, Nesta contemplated laughing at the image of her mother’s face as she looked up at the from Hell, crying out in horror at Nesta marrying two faeries, one of whom being a female. It would turn her in her grave for sure.

The servants that had scurried away a few moments ago, leaving Nesta with a few blissful minutes of peace before a guard would come to fetch her for her entrance. You and Eris had pressed if she was really okay walking down the aisle herself, considering you had Lucien and it was custom for Eris to walk alone. She had shook off the concerns, insisting she was more than capable of doing it herself.

But looking in the mirror at her red lined lips, beautifully coronet braided hair, and satin dress with a straight neckline, long sleeves, and gold detailing, she couldn’t help but feel like a child again. A little girl who wanted her mom and dad to hold her hand and tell her they were there for her. Not that either of her parents ever had, and for years Nesta convinced herself she didn’t care. She thought she was loved by them at first, too young to know that some types of love could be bad. And then she became tied to her mother, a moth trapped in the twisted spider web of a cunning woman’s plans to groom her young daughter to please men that rivalled her father in age. Her father had let this happen, not once standing up for her or pushing back on her mother’s harsh disciplining. Just like Cassian had with Rhysand.

Nesta shivered, as if shaking off the mere sound of Cassian’s name in her mind and pushing it as far away as possible. The Illyrian general was aware of the wedding most likely, as formal invitations had been sent out to all of the courts. At first, Nesta and you had pushed back against the Night Court being invited. “As much as I do not want them near us, I cannot do that,” Eris had begrudgingly told them. “It is customary for all court leaders to come and bend the knee to the new ruler, or rulers in our case. If they do not, it will tip the already shakey diplomacy scales within Prythian. But fear not, I added a personal note to their invite saying they were expected to come after the wedding ceremony. They will sneak in as we begin the crowning and acknowledge our leadership and then leave. They will not be here long.”

No reply was received, but Nesta knew some of the Inner Circle would be coming. Feyre was likely too pregnant and too ill to attend, and there was no way Mor would be talked into attending, much to Nesta’s relief. Rhys would have to attend, as would Amren. She had no idea as to what Azriel was currently doing, but her stomach churned at the possibility of Cassian and Elain being there. She prayed that they would elect to stay home. Nevertheless, Eris had assured her the dragons would be there behind the throne as they had been upon the wedding announcement, ready to intervene if needed.

As the clock ticked, Nesta felt those hateful thoughts swimming to the surface again. They had quieted in the past few weeks, letting her have peace from her own self hatred. But doubt began to fill her, and suddenly her dress was stifling. 

She did not deserve to marry you, or Eris. Nesta was not worthy of your kindness and strength, nor Eris’s help and protection. Cassian had always mocked her for expecting to marry a prince, and not a low born bastard like him. But perhaps she did belong with someone who merely echoed the hateful things her own mind said to her.

Nesta wrung her hands together, practising her mind stilling as her thoughts threatened to consume her. But a gentle knock on the door broke her trance, and she straightened her back and smoothed out her skirts. After making sure she was composed, she said firmly, “Enter.”

It was not a guard who opened the door, but the familiar face of Lirilla. Her wavy auburn hair had been decorated with golden bits of hair jewellery, a red ribbon woven into the long braid that went down the back of her head. Her eyes were bright, her once skinny-figure now more filled out into the beautiful green gown she wore. “Hello, Nesta.” She said, closing the door behind her.

Nesta’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Is something wrong? Aren’t you supposed to be at the ceremony right now?”

Lirilla shook her head. “Everything is okay, my dear. But I come bearing an offer. One that you do not have to take, but I would be honoured if you did.”

Nesta cocked her head, but nodded for Lirilla to go on. “My son mentioned you were walking down the aisle alone, is that correct?”

“Yes.” Nesta said tightly. “I have no family here to give me away, so I will walk by myself.”

Lirilla took Nesta’s hand, rubbing gentle circles along her palm. “Forgive me if I am overstepping, but Eris tells me your relationship with your father was nonexistent, and your mother unpleasant. He said nothing more, but I also know that you were once human. And difficult parents or not, being given away at the altar is a common practice in the mortal lands. Am I correct to assume that?”

Nesta nodded stiffly, forcing the lump in her throat back down. No matter how many walls she put up, Lirilla could see right through her. “You know, I have always wanted a daughter who I could walk down the aisle.” The Lady of Autumn continued. “I understand you claim to be confident in walking yourself to the altar, but I know there must be some part of you clinging to that tradition from your old life. I would love to give you away, if you will have me.”

Nesta was glad she was not wearing heavy eye makeup, because a single tear escaped down her cheek. “I would like that very much.” She said through a choked voice. A mother’s love was something so foreign to her. All she knew of it was a twisted, cruel version that could not be considered any type of love. But the kindness in Lirilla’s face filled that void inside of her that her own mother left.

“Then let us get on with it.”

Nesta happily took her arm, allowing Eris’s mother to lead her from her room of solitude and towards the throne room. The closer they got to the large doors, the more the buzzing liveliness of the ceremony began to seep into her bones. She could feel the energy, the excitement of not only her mates, but the crowd as well. The stream of music began to fade as they reached the door, Lirilla nodding to the guards who spoke in whispers. She turned back towards Nesta as silence overcame the hall. “It is time,” She said softly.

Nodding, Nesta clenched tighter around Lirilla’s arm. It seemed like an eternity of waiting encapsulated in mere seconds as she waited for her cue. She took deep breaths, taking comfort in that bond within her that glowed with the presence of her mates.

Finally, the soft whistle of a flute rang from behind the doors, the start of the entrance music. She counted the seconds in her head, and after the 53rd second mark, the doors opened and she stepped through them.

A crowd far bigger than she had expected stood up. Candles and red, green, and gold flowers lined the aisle, similar decorations scattered across the throne room from every lamp, chair, and table. But Nesta did not look at the people, nor their dragons standing proudly behind the three thrones, their heads arching in through the open space. Her gaze was focused on the male at the altar underneath the archway of branches.

Eris was dressed in the most elaborate set of robes Nesta had ever seen. Gold and red draped his shoulders, a green cloak flowing behind him. A long sword rested on his hip, and a crown of gold sat atop his red hair. Her breath hitched in her chest at the sight of this male, her mate who had done so much to help her escape her prison in the Night Court. She almost stopped walking, but a gentle squeeze on her arm told her to keep going. She felt all eyes on her as she made her way towards the altar, but they were like whispers in the wind fading behind her, nonexistent as she focused on the male ahead of her. The soft music rang in her ears, a beautiful blend of notes that captured every emotion in her chest.

When she came to the end, Lirilla released her arm, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek before taking her seat in the front row. Nesta could barely breathe, barely move as Eris stood mere inches away. Eris smiled softly, his eyes tender as he took in the sight of her wedding dress. He extended his hand, which Nesta gladly took. His warm skin on hers brought her back to reality, snapping her out of her trance. He guided her up to take his place on his left side, just as they had practised.

With one last longing look at each other, Nesta and Eris turned to face the crowd, hands joined as they waited for you. 

 *********************

READER POV

Right on time, the guard nodded to Lucien as you rounded the corner, signalling that Nesta had taken her place at the altar and it was your turn. The tune shifted slightly, and you knew it was the two minute and forty second mark you had memorised as your cue. With one last reassuring smile from Lucien, you stepped through the open doors and into the throne room.

Your entire body was both numb and on fire as you took your first steps on the aisle. Never before had you been so grateful for Lucien holding you, for you would surely collapse without his support. You ignored the hundreds of eyes that studied you as you approached Nesta and Eris at the altar, their dragons behind them in the distance. Zorzîmril purred as she saw you, and your lips twitched with a laugh as a few guests flinched at the sound. The tune of the music carried you down the aisle, and with each step you took towards your mates the more confidence you felt. Everything you had done to escape the Night Court had been worth it, and this outcome was far better than anything you could have dreamed of.

Finally, you reached the end of your journey. Lucien bowed his head and kissed your hand before taking his place in the empty seat beside his mother. Your eyes pricked with tears as you drank in the beauty of your mates, from Eris’s elaborate robes to Nesta’s simple yet elegant gown. They looked perfect, and you were relieved that you had not seen them before the ceremony for you surely would have collapsed.

You took Eris’s extended hand, positioning yourself on his right side. After scanning the subjects before you per Eris’s prior instructions, the three of you turned towards each other, Eris stepping back slightly so a triangle could be formed and allow you to hold each other’s hand.

Behind you, a priestess stepped up under the archway, her blue robes shining in the light of the sunset behind her. When you snuck a glance at her out of the corner of your eye and saw familiar red hair and teal eyes, your eyes shot open.

The priestess was Gwyn.

You baulked, surprise evident on Nesta’s face as well momentarily. Eris simply winked, and you bit your tongue to refrain from scolding him for all these surprises. You snuck a glance at Gwyn in shock, and she simply let out a smug smile before composing herself and lifting her chin to address the crowd. A squeeze from Eris’s hand urged you to compose yourself as well.

“Citizens of the Autumn Court,” Gwyn’s voice rang clear and strong through the throne room, and pride swelled in your chest. When you had first met Gwyn, she had refused to leave the library. For her to do something like this for you and Nesta was a testament to the nymph’s bravery. “We are gathered here today to witness the marriage between Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court, and Lady Nesta Archeron, and Lady (Y/N) Dreamfyre.”

You felt Nesta almost go giddy with excitement, and you squeezed her hand. You hadn’t heard your last name in ages, and now it was about to change entirely. It was bittersweet – a farewell to your old life, and the start of a new one.

“It is a day that marks a new era for the Autumn Court,” Gwyn continued. “One that marks the reign of a High Lord alongside two High Ladies. May the Mother bless this day and send good fortune to all within the realm. In the sight of the Mother, I hereby see you these three souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words as you bind yourselves in magic.”

In unison, you, Nesta, and Eris all spoke the words you had memorised weeks ago. Words that would be sacred on your lips, a seal of the promises you made to each other. “I am yours and you are mine from this day until the stars collide and eternity comes to an end.” From Eris’s palms, an orange flame emerged, curling around your left wrist and Nesta’s right. It was soft and warm against your skin, flickering gently. A silver flame from Nesta found your other hand, wrapping into it and Eris’s as well. It was colder, like the soothing waters of a creek. You took a deep breath, summoning the power of life within you that you had been practising for the last few weeks. 

Bright white light emerged from your palms, tinted with flicks of blue as it eagerly wound itself with Eris’s flames in your left hand and Nesta’s in your right. So the three of you stood, magic entwining and singing a celestial song. Life, death, and fire mixed together, purring against your skin as it hummed. On your ring fingers on both hands, a small tattoo appeared. It was a delicate vine with leaves, wrapping around the finger like a ring. The same appeared on Nesta and Eris’s fingers – a symbol of your marriage, one that could never get lost or fade. 

As the light of your entwined magic faded, your throat was thick with emotion as you gazed between Nesta and Eris with nothing but love. Gwyn’s voice continued proudly. “It is time for the exchange of vows, which have been written personally by each of the individuals before me. May you speak these words honest and true in the light of the Mother.” With that, the priestess stepped back slightly, giving Eris a nod before shooting you and Nesta a wink.

Eris cleared his throat. “Many males may envy me, for I have the two most beautiful brides in Prythian before me,” He began. “It is a dream of many to marry the perfect partner, a dream that most people are not fortunate enough to achieve. I am blessed to have not one, but two partners and achieve this dream. But Nesta, (Y/N), you are not just my brides. You are my mates, my equals, the force that binds me to this world and allows me to open my heart up.”

Eris turned towards you, amber eyes glowing with pride as he spoke. “(Y/N), you have a strength that rivals the foundations of the earth. Your selflessness and resilience through hard times is something I intend on admiring until the end of my days. You make this world a better place, your presence is like the sunlight that emerges over the mountains on the morning of winter’s chill. I am honoured to have you as my mate, and I will love you until the end of time itself.”

You could no longer hold back the tears that now flowed down your cheeks. Eris was staring at you with such intensity you felt like you were going to burst into flames right there and then. Long gone was the cold mask of indifference that he had sewn onto his face to survive in the harsh reality of Beron’s court. Everyone in the room could see his vulnerability, his love, how he was willing to open up that part of himself for the world to see.

Eris then turned to the other female beside you. “Nesta, you are as wild and untamable as the sea. A force of nature with a determination that inspires me to make change happen in a world that pushes against you. You have been through so much toil and conquered everything in your path, and you have my utmost respect and admiration. I am honoured that you have trusted me on this path.”

You saw Nesta’s face tight as she tried to conceal her emotions. Her lips stretched into a smile, her eyes giving everything away. You took in a deep breath, knowing it was your turn next. The words had been rehearsed in your head for days, playing in your head on a loop. Normally you hated speaking in public, and the thought of talking about your feelings in front of such a large crowd. But it all fell away in the background, and you spoke confidently. “Nesta, I don’t know how I would have gotten through these last few months without you,” you said to her. “You have been my rock ever since I met you, and within the first few weeks of our time together I knew we would blaze through this world like a wildfire. You are strong, you are smart, and I will love you until there is nothing of me left.

“Eris, you have proved yourself to be the most selfless male I have ever met. I love your witty remarks, your sharp mind that is never still for a moment, always conjuring up various ideas and schemes. I love you, and I cannot wait to begin this new chapter with both of you by my side.”

They gently squeezed your hands, the action sending a warm sensation down the bond. The dragons cooed gently from behind you, the rumble echoing throughout the vast chamber. Beside you, Nesta took a deep breath. It wasn’t a secret that she was the most nervous of the three of you to speak her vows. It was difficult for her to say how she feels even with just the two of you, let alone in front of an audience.

But her voice was strong as she spoke, no hint of hesitance of nervousness. “Eris,” She began, her grey eyes meeting the High Lord’s amber ones. “When we first met, one of the things you told me was ‘like calls to like’. I thought that you were simply referring to our powers, but I now realise that it reflects our relationship as well. You match me in mind and soul, and I owe you a debt I can never repay. Both of you.” Nesta turned her blue-grey eyes towards you. “(Y/N), you saved my life. You picked me up when I was at my lowest point, you helped me turn things around. You showed me that life was worth living and gave me the strength I needed. I love you, and my life would not be the same without you.”

Tears swam in her eyes, making you choke up. You glanced at Lucien in the crowd, who was looking at you both with pride in his eyes. Beside him, Lirilla was dabbing at her wet eyes with a cloth. 

“In the name of the Mother, by the power vested in me, I declare you wed.” Gwyn said proudly, voice ringing out clear as day. “Citizens of the Autumn Court, I present to you: Eris Vanserra, Nesta Vanserra, and (Y/N) Vanserra.”

Cheers arose from the crowd, filling you with happiness. Initially, you had expected a strained crowd, filled with disapproving whispers. But if they existed, they were easily drowned out. Leaves fell softly from the ceiling like confetti, and the dragons roared as one. Eris pulled your hands, and the three of you pressed your foreheads together. You were all grinning happily, and the High Lord stepped back for a moment and you pulled Nesta in for a kiss. Her soft hands cupped your cheeks as yours rested on her waist, her lips pressing sweetly into yours as the crowds cheering continued. It was a brief kiss, but passionate nonetheless. Your heart sang as Eris kissed you next, his slender fingers lifting your chin up to meet his mouth. Your insides melted at the pure love pouring from both kisses, mind spinning as you stepped back while Eris moved to Nesta and kissed her in the same manner.

Scanning the crowd, you say a sea of happy faces. It seemed even those who had sneered weeks before had either come around, or learned quickly to put on a happy face. But something tugged at you, urging you to look further. And then you saw them.

At the back of the crowd stood Rhysand, Amren, Azriel, Cassian, and Elain.

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chapter xvii - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 3,500+

masterlist

It only took two turns for Y/N to guess that she had already made a mistake and was surely going to get lost in this ginormous house. 

But it seemed to take even less time before she heard her name being called and Eris’ quick steps behind her. 

Y/N stopped walking, but refused to turn around. 

“We both know you have no idea where you are going,” Eris commented darkly from behind her. 

She sighed and turned to look at him. 

He took that as her silent invitation to let him show her back to her bedchambers. Well…his bedchambers.  But she could sleep in his bed for as long as she so pleased – even if he wasn’t in it along with her. 

The walk was 20 minutes of silence. And Eris knew better than to try and force her to break it when she was in such a delicate state. Little did he know, his silent presence was starting to comfort her.

“I meant what I said,” Eris finally spoke when they stood outside the door to their bedchambers. 

“About what?” She asked for clarity in a soft voice. 

“You are not a prisoner here.”

She just stared into his eyes, looking for any hint of lie. But found none. 

“This home is your own. Go where you please. Use what you wish. If there’s anything you desire, you need only ask.” Then he nodded towards the door. “There are clothes in the wardrobe for you. I had the seamstresses working all day and they were quite confident they got your sizing correct.”

Y/N blinked. “You…Y-You had them make custom dresses for me, all in one day?” 

Eris could not seem to understand why she was confused – and so taken aback. 

“Of course,” he answered, as if it were obvious. “You arrived with almost no belongings.” Only his cloak and the weapons he had gifted her. 

Then she opened the door in a rush and marched to the wardrobe, leaving the door ajar to silently invite him in. 

Y/N opened it to see the most beautiful dresses she’d ever seen. Yes, Rhysand had gifted her clothes while in Night Court. But these dresses…they felt more... her. And there wasn’t just dresses: there was an equal amount of pants and tops, as well. 

“Eris,” she whispered. “This is too much. I…I do not deserve such beautiful clothing.” 

To her surprise, Eris’ eyes darkened and he stepped closer to her. 

Then his stare went up and down her body – not objectifying her, though as if he was trying to find something he couldn’t seem, but she did. 

His amber eyes stared and she wanted to look away, but couldn’t. 

Eris voice was low as he slowly said, “I would like to know who in this life made you ever believe that you are undeserving of clothing.”

Y/N opened and closed her mouth a couple times.

When he put it so simply, it did make her rethink. 

“But it’s not just clothing,” she argued. “It’s far too lovely.”

“So you don’t believe you deserve lovely clothing?”

Y/N glared at him now, seeing the game he was playing. 

Eris took another step closer to her. And it made Y/N’s heart beat a little faster. She wondered if his fae senses could hear it. 

His eyes flickered from her y/e/c eyes to her lips before he said, “If there is one thing I shall achieve during your stay here, it’s to untrain that mind of yours and stop you from ever thinking you are undeserving of the very best.” His head tilted closer to her. “You should be gifted anything you have ever wanted. You…” He paused. “You should be worshipped, Y/N.”

He lifted his head back, giving her space to linger on what he just said. 

Y/N was grateful for it, because she was convinced her knees would give out at any second.

If her heart was speeding up before, now it was threatening to beat out of her chest. Her breathing was heavy, and she was struggling to control it. 

No man had ever spoken to her the way Eris just did. And she somehow knew that no one else ever would, either.

Eris took a step backward. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

He bowed his head and left, closing the door gently behind him. 

Y/N stood frozen in place for minutes before she could find it in herself to move.

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

The next morning, Lucien was once again guarding her door.

Y/N suspected that Eris assigned at least one of his guards while she slept, before his brother reached his post. 

This time, Lucien was standing and reading a book. 

“Do I really require a babysitter?” Y/N moaned. 

Though, if she were being honest, she’d recognize that she had no idea what she would do with herself in this place alone. 

Lucien smiled in that cocky way of his. Then he took in Y/N’s dress carefully.  “I see you are making use of your new wardrobe…”

She said nothing and only awkwardly shifted her weight as her face got warm. 

“I don’t think I need another tour,” Y/N announced quietly, hoping not to sound rude. 

“Good. Because I did not plan on giving one.”

“He must be busy…” Y/N thought aloud as she started following her escort. 

Lucien frowned. “It is not easy transitioning to High Lord, especially after this Court has been ruled by Beron for so long.” 

“Will the people accept him?” 

“It would be best if they did…” he hummed. 

Y/N paused and looked at Lucien with fear. “He wouldn’t…Eris would never…he wouldn’t hurt anyone for the disrespect if they did not…w-would he?” 

Lucien seemed amused by both her concern and uncertainty. “Doubtful. Eris wishes do abolish Beron’s evil, not renew it. But there are still those who will question his power and if he is fit to rule at all.” 

“But the Cauldron chose him!” Y/N argued. "The powers of Autumn Court are with him.” 

Lucien shrugged. “Sometimes the courtiers need more than that.” 

“Where are we going?” She suddenly asked. 

“To the kitchens,” Eris answered. “My brother nearly throttled me when he found out I had taken you on a three-hour tour without feeding you beforehand.”

“Will you stay…now that Eris is High Lord?” 

Her waiting gaze was nervous, as if she was scared the question was rude and she was stepping out of line by asking it. 

Lucien sighed. “My brother has assured me that one of his first acts as the new High Lord was to rescind my exile. I am welcome once again in Autumn Court.” 

“But do you wish to actually return?” 

It was obvious these were all questions that had been racing through Lucien’s mind. But it was also obvious that he did not have steadfast answers. 

“It is nice having you here…” Y/N admitted quietly, giving him time to consider his answer. But also offering him an out to change the subject, and not answer at all. 

Lucien gave her a shy smirk. “The feeling is mutual.” Then he frowned. “But you intend to return to the Mortal Lands as soon as Eris deems it safe.” 

Y/N stopped walking and frowned. “You must think me no better than Elain.”

“Well, Elain does not even acknowledge my existence. At least you actually converse with my brother.” 

It took Y/N a moment to realize he was teasing her. She looked up to see him smiling mischievously down at her. 

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Perhaps you fae will never understand it…”

“Understand what?” 

“The power of choice was taken away from us. We mortals live a short life. A bad decision – or the lack of choice – could greatly change our lifetime. Our lifespan…it’s just a blink of your immortality.” 

Lucien understood what Y/N was trying to tell him. And he wondered if this was why Elain pushed him away again and again. He was thrust onto her at her most vulnerable, ruining the life she had imagined for herself. 

“So…you are upset that the Cauldron chose for you?” 

“Feyre explained that mating bonds do not always imply love…”

Lucien wanted to correct her, to tell her that was not the case for his brother. But he knew it was not his place. Perhaps it was not yet love Eris had for Y/N. But Lucien could see it was quickly nearing. Without the threat of Beron, Eris was free to choose his mate – choose to love and protect her. If only Y/N realized that it was not a situation of the Cauldron forcing them together out of spite. 

“This is true,” Lucien couldn’t help but agree. “Throughout history, some mates have despised each other. But you have spent time around Feyre and Rhysand, Nesta and Cassian. Surely you understand the power the bond can mean for others.” 

Y/N didn’t respond, just remained lost in her own head. 

––

Lucien had snuck them into the kitchens that were bustling with energy and cooks. There was a little nook in the corner, out of everyone’s way. It was just big enough so two could eat together discreetly. 

As soon as they were seated, a cook came over with a shy, but warm smile. She appeared to be lesser fae, with almost red skin and bright, golden hair. Her eyes were entirely black though – no irises or pupils to be found. 

She bowed her head to both of them, the gesture taking Y/N aback. In both hands were two plates full of breakfast. She gently placed them down. 

“I will be back with coffee and tea,” she told them almost apologetically. 

“Thank you,” Y/N managed to say before the cook scurried out of sight. 

Y/N looked to Lucien with a questioning gaze.

“There are many who wish to meet the legendary witch who rid the court of Beron Vanserra.” 

Y/N scoffed. “I hardly even helped. I was more in the way than anything. The winds tell me it was you, Eris, and your mother who truly ended him.” 

Lucien’s face turned serious as he said, “If you think my brother could have found the courage to face Beron without you, then you truly do not understand your importance here.”

The cook returned, holding two giant mugs in each hand with impressive finesse. In one set was coffee and in their other appeared to be earl grey tea. 

Lucien gave a nod and looked into her eyes as he said, “Thank you, Marwyna.” 

Even with her red skin, she seemed to be blushing at such attention. 

“Yes, thank you. It looks delicious,” Y/N also urged. 

The two of them ate without conversation. If it weren’t for the bustling of the kitchens they sat in, there would’ve been complete silence between the two. 

Lucien could tell something had been struck in Y/N’s mind and she had no retreated there, thinking and thinking and thinking. 

It wasn’t until both of their plates were nearly clean when she finally spoke. 

“I make him weak,” Y/N breathed. “I am just a mortal. I could so easily be used against him. It would be better if I….if I just d-d-disappeared.” 

Lucien watched Y/N, reading her face to see that she truly believed the words she spoke.

But it would not be him that could make her realize how wrong she was. He would need to have a long conversation with Eris. Only his brother could make Y/N understand how important she was – to him, to Autumn Court. 

So, all Lucien stead was, “There is nothing weak about you, Y/N.” 

She blinked in surprise at his declaration. 

“Now if we are finished eating and feeling sorry for ourselves, I think a nice walk around the gardens would do us well.” 

A whisper of a smirk showed on Y/N’s lips as she nodded. 

—🍁—🍁—🍁—

“That is all for today,” Eris announced to his table of advisors as he stood. 

He could sense everyone’s mental exhaustion. But mostly he could feel is own.

There was…much to be repaired in Autumn Court. Beron ruled with fear and without any mercy, and it would take a lot to undo such philosophies. 

His mother sat to his right and gave him a sympathetic look as the fae bowed their heads and slowly took their leave from the great hall. 

However, Leonora stayed behind. 

Eris had already grown exhausted with his High Lord duties. Though he had prepared for centuries to have such power, nothing could’ve prepared him for the toll it took on his mind and body. 

Leonora waited for them to be left alone before she spoke. 

Then she subtly nodded her head to the other end of the hall that led to a balcony that oversaw the courtyard below. 

Eris held out his arm for his mother before moving. 

She squeezed his arm to comfort him. “You cannot change this Court overnight, Eris.” 

“We are moving too slowly,” he argued. 

Leonora smiled. “I know you have patience, for you waited centuries to for this opportunity. But you must still practice that same patience to mold Autumn Court for the good of its denizens.” 

As they walked onto the balcony, Eris was hit with the fresh, brisk air of autumn. The sun was nearing the horizon as it set for the day.

It was common for mist and fog to linger in this court.

And today’s dusk was no different, leaving a haunting feeling to the courtyard below. 

When Eris looked over the edge of the railing, he froze. 

Below were his acclaimed smoke hounds. 

Everyone in the Forest House feared them. They did not take kindly to anyone that wasn't their master. Because they were feared for good reason: trained to hunt and kill – if ordered. They only tolerated their handlers by command of Eris, since he could not solely take care of them himself – especially now that he was High Lord. Even his mother was careful around them. They’d never attack her, but they were by no means fond of the Lady of Autumn either.

But below him, the pack was surrounding Y/N, who sat on the ground as they all wagged their tails, fighting each other to lick her. 

Two pups from the most recent litter were cuddled on Y/N's lap, as she giggled from all the affection the adult hounds gave her.  

Then Eris spotted Lucien a few yards away from Y/N, with a look of exasperation. Most of his childhood Lucien spent trying to win over his brother’s smoke hounds. They only grew to tolerate him, never showing him acceptance or affection. 

Any time Lucien so much as shifted his weight, the hounds would interpret it as him trying to get closer to Y/N, and they would all let out a warning growl.

It made Lucien roll his eyes. And Eris swore he heard his youngest brother mutter, “Stupid, overprotective mutts. Of course you would like her…” 

“Seems like your hounds have brought your mate some joy,” Leonora hummed as she also looked down at the sight with a knowing smile. 

Eris couldn’t deny how much it warmed his heart. 

Perhaps they remembered Y/N from that dreadful day he found her in the forest. Or perhaps they could also sense that Y/N was their master’s mate. 

—

“There is so many of them!” Y/N giggled as the hounds kissed her face, tickling her. 

“They will not even let me pet them and look at you!” Lucien called out bitterly. 

Then a whistle pierced the air. 

The pack of one dozen dogs immediately retreated, forming a straight line, like little soldiers. 

Y/N sat straight and twisted to see that they were now facing Eris, who had stepped into the courtyard and stood straight with his hands clasped behind my back. 

She also jumped to her feet. For some reason, she felt like she had been caught doing something mischievous. But she still had the two puppies in each hand. Clearly, they were too young to know the same commands as the others. 

Eris walked further into the courtyard. “I see you have met my smoke hounds.”

Y/N quickly, but gently, put the two puppies on the ground. But as soon as she let them go, they looked up at her and started whining. 

Eris looked at the two handlers, who had been standing watch, and then at his brother.

“Leave us,” he commanded politely, but firmly. 

Lucien glared at his eldest brother. But still followed his command, giving Y/N a polite nod before also leaving the courtyard. 

Then it was just Y/N, Eris, and his hounds. 

Y/N, still thinking like she was caught doing something wrong, immediately stuttered out, “L-Lucien and I were just going for a walk when we came upon your handlers and the dogs. They approached me! I didn’t mean to disrupt them.”

Eris finally smirked at her. “You seem to be under the impression that I plan on scolding you.”

Y/N blinked. “Well…I…yes.” 

Eris wondered what he had to do to make his mate realize she could never do anything to upset him so pettily. 

He looked at his hounds and said, “Effrenate.” 

The hounds relaxed and all went to greet their master with wagging tails. 

“Animals seem to have a certain draw to you…” Eris noted as he kneeled to greet his dogs with pets and affection. 

“Most witches have a connection to that of nature,” Y/N mumbled, almost as if she were embarrassed by this certain trait. 

“So you have bewitched my hounds?” Eris asked with playfulness in his eyes. 

“Of course not,” she quickly answered with a huff, as she picked up the two puppies again and walked toward their master. 

“Do you have names for them all?” Y/N asked. 

“Of course.” His gaze went up to the two in her hand. “That is Aspen and Brutus.” 

Both puppies tails wagged even harder at their names being called out. Y/N smiled down at them when she noticed it. 

Then he went around and listed off the rest of the names.

“Now that I know they are all so fond of you,” Eris began. “Perhaps I should leave a few of them to guard you during your stay.” 

“I wouldn’t mind the company. But is my safety really at such risk here?” 

“I should hope not,” Eris answered lowly. “Though it would ease my guilt from leaving you alone for such long periods of time.” 

“You are a High Lord. You have more important matters than entertaining me. Though I hope you start to take pity on Lucien and dismiss his duties as my personal jester.” 

Eris smiled at her subtle jab toward his brother. 

His smiles were rare before. But now there was brightness there that Y/N doubted existed before Beron’s demise. 

He was so handsome. Not that it hadn’t been the first thing Y/N noticed when she had met Eris officially in the Night Court. But Y/N would not be surprised if the power of being a High Lord somehow enhanced his looks.  

Eris’ amber eyes almost glow with a warmth that only ever seemed to be directed toward her. And his cloak-like jacket fit his body perfectly, showing off his posture and strong presence. He would immediately be noticed in any room he walked into.

“You should never hide your smile,” Y/N blurted out before she could stop herself.

Her eyes widened in embarrassment when she realized what she had just said aloud.

“Excuse me,” she quickly added. “I should not say such things so carelessly.” 

But Eris ignored her apology. “Whatever smiles you see are your doing.” 

Y/N's face warmed at his implication. 

But then something dark suddenly clouded her face. “I should return to my rooms.”

Eris stood up from his dogs. “Will you not join me for dinner?” 

Y/N carefully placed the two puppies in Eris’ grasp and only looked at them as she answered, “I would like to eat dinner alone in my rooms, if that is alright.” 

“O-Of course,” was all Eris could manage to say back. 

What would he do instead? Force her to have dinner with him? Is that not what Tamlin did when Feyre was imprisoned in Spring Court? Or at least, that is what Eris had heard. 

Had he said something to upset her? 

“Your training,” Eris called out before Y/N could fully escape the courtyard. 

She turned to him, brow wrinkled with clear confusion. 

“Do you wish to continue your training?” Eris clarified. 

Even though it was just the two of them, Y/N still looked around the courtyard as if she would find another person Eris could possibly be talking to. 

“I would,” she finally answered slowly. 

“I will assign my Weapons Master to train with you tomorrow. He shall meet you here.” 

Y/N opened her mouth to protest. 

“Before you say some nonsense about not wanting to be a bother,” Eris continued before she could speak. “It would bring me great peace to know you are keeping up with your training.”

She just watched him for a moment. 

Eventually she nodded, and said, “Tomorrow then.”

––––––

*for those curious, the breed I used to reference Eris' smoke hounds is a Dogo Argentino. (I know most people imagine a grey hound, but they look like rats to me and I like this breed more. And they seem more badass anyways.)

Please write me a book report, comment, send me a message. They make me happy and keep me writing. Be like @pancakefancake.

Chapter XVIII

[the1975attheirverybest]

A/N: sorry about the delay. Todays been hectic. This is day one of promptober

Prompt: meet cute

Warnings: none

——

“Jesus- fuck!! Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Matty hissed, reflexively pulling his hand away, and dropping the remainder of the half empty coffee cup that had not spilled all over him in a splat against the pavement. He leaned against the car, his coffee-soaked gym clothes adhering to his skin.

“Good morning- umm, you need some help?”

He heard a bright voice from behind him and instantly make an effort to put on a smile before turning around. He’d assumed the young lady with the hefty-looking tote bag hanging off her shoulder was a fan. Probably coming over to ask for a quick selfie or an autograph before she’d caught him cursing under his breath. He never wanted his mood or mental state to ever taint a fans experience of him or rub off on anyone else. So, with open arms and deep breaths, he approached her, ready to put aside his troubles and be present in the moment.

“No, I’m just English, and…it’s October. Los Angeles weather makes no sense to me, and-“ when she looked puzzled, stepping away as he got closer, Matty realized she had no idea who he was. “Oh, god. Sorry. I’m a fuckin idiot, aren’t I?”

“I…don’t know you well enough to answer that.” She laughed. “But it does seem like you’re having a morning.”

“It’s just that I’ve rented this car. And it won’t turn on. And I went to pull out my phone, you know, to call the agency but- the coffee shop over there was out of lids, and-“ he gestured vaguely in the air.

She nodded along sympathetically. “Sounds awful; I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, I’ve got…hmm” she glance down at her phone, “fifty minutes. Okay that’s not bad. Let me help you out.”

“You don’t have to. It’s fine I’ll call someone and-“

“I’ve got somewhere you can get cleaned up and I know a guy who’s good with cars. C’mon.” She began walking up the street, taking for granted that Matty would follow her. So, he did.

***

“Let me- umm- help” Matty attempted to hold her tote bag for her as she wrangled her key into the door, but he was too late. She’d pried it open and walked inside.

“Welcome to my humble business.” She announced, feeling around the wall for the light switch. “We don’t behind open for another 45 minutes so please shut the door behind you.”

Matty made sure the “closed” sign was facing outwards before pushing the door shut.

“Alright, let’s see the damage that we’re working with here.” Her eyebrows raised, her head nodding towards his t shirt.

He pulled it over his head, slowly revealing his toned, tattooed torso. She couldn’t help but let her eyes linger for a moment, blushing involuntarily. He was beautiful.

“Thank you for this.” He muttered awkwardly.

“You bet.”

***

She’d finally emerged from the kitchen area of her bakery, smiling as she watched Matty pace around the room nervously. “You can sit down, you know.” She pointed towards one of the serving tables that still hand the chairs hanging upside-down from. “So, I have your t shirt soaking for a bit. I’ll dry it near the oven when it’s ready. But here you go. This is the car guy.”

“Thank you, really. You didn’t have to do all this.” Matty lowered a chair off the table, sinking into it and dialing the number she’d given him.

“Can I get you anything while you wait?”

Matty smiled, genuinely, for the first time this morning. “I could use some coffee actually. You know, one that isn’t being absorbed through the skin of my chest.”

She giggled. “How do you take your coffee? We’ve got fall flavors if you’d like a pumpkin spice.”

Matty rolled his eyes.

“Oh are you one of those men? You think pumpkin spice is girlie or gay or something? Lemme guess….you take your coffee black? Alright, grinch. One black coffee coming right up.”

By the time that she’d brought out his beverage, Matty had finished making his phone call.

“Here you go, sir.”

“Thank you- the grinch is for Christmas by the way. This is autumn.”

She giggled. “Whatever you say, grinch.”

“I never said I hate pumpkin spice.” Matty was on the defensive now. “I love it! It’s just- LA feels like summer. This…is not pumpkin spice weather. Feels wrong.”

“Okay so, you’re English. You hate LA. You…do jiujitsu- your stained shirt? It had the name of a martial arts academy printed on it - what else? You’re not actor are you?”

Matty sipped on his coffee. “Not an actor, no.”

“Thought so. You don’t look like one.”

Matty’s brows furrowed, he set down his coffee mug, resting his elbows on the table as he leaned in. “What’s that supposed to mean? Should I be offended?”

She chuckled, throwing her head back. “No. Trust me. You don’t wanna look like an actor in LA. They’re all over the place.”

“And you? Pumpkin spice is your full time job?” Matty winced at his own words. “Sorry that came out wrong. I’m a nice person, i promise. It’s the heat!”

She shook her head, smiling. “I’m really passionate about pumpkin spice.” She glanced down at her phone, then at the block-long line forming outside.

“Fuck! Oh shoot, shoot, shoot!!!” She jumped to her feet, rushing into the kitchen. “Unlock that door and let people in, would you?”

***

A shirtless Matty had found himself the host of LA’s finest caffeine- deprived bakery customers, eventually settling into his role by finding an apron to cover his nipples with, and working the cash register.

“Thank you for coming, enjoy that muffin, Pamela.” He smiled as the ancient lady with the cane eyed him from head to toes, winking at his biceps. “Watch your step now. Don’t want you falling. You’ve had enough knee surgeries for your age.”

He walked away from the counter once the first morning rush had died down, going into the kitchen. “I don’t think the scones are selling too well. Should I- I think we could start giving some away. With a purchase of large sized beverages.”

She stared at him, her mouth agape. It was difficult to focus on being dumbfounded by him when all she could think about is how beautiful his hair was, and how tightly that apron wrapped around him.

“I’m Matty, by the way.” He stuck his hand out for a handshake.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t think we’ve been properly introduced- like, officially.”

***

“Here you go. T shirt is now coffee free. And wearable again.”

“Sick!”

To her great disappointment, he undid the apron, pulling it off his body and replacing it with his original t shirt.

“Thanks for helping out. I feel bad though. Cuz, like, you could’ve been out there. Dealing with your car situation.”

“Oh, my car was fixed hours ago.”

[chrisstxrnsaxe]

Mysterious Fangs - Chris Sturniolo Part 5

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

Part 7 Part 8

Relationship:vampireoc!Meris Hawthorne x human!Chris Sturniolo

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙰 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎—𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚂𝚒𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗-𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛-𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝙷𝚊𝚠𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝. 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚟𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚐𝚘, 𝚜𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚗𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚎 𝚁𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜’𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎. 𝚃𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚝 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎, 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚋𝚘𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜’𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗.

⚠️𝙸𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚜⚠️: 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚂𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗, 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝??

After the last bell, Meris lingered at her locker, organizing her books more slowly than necessary. The truth was, she was stalling. Part of her wanted to talk to Chris again, but the other part—the cautious part—was nervous about getting closer.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice him approach until he spoke.

“Hey, Meris,” Chris said, leaning casually against the locker next to hers.

Startled, she turned to face him. “Oh, hey. Didn’t see you there.”

Chris laughed lightly. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“It’s fine,” Meris said, closing her locker. “What’s up?”

“I was actually wondering if you were heading out yet,” Chris said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I thought maybe we could walk part of the way together.”

Meris blinked, surprised. “Oh, um… sure. Yeah, I’m heading out now.”

“Cool,” Chris said with an easy grin.

They fell into step together, the noise of the bustling hallway fading behind them as they stepped outside. The crisp autumn air felt refreshing, and Meris took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.

“So,” Chris began, breaking the silence, “how’s your day been?”

Meris shrugged. “Not bad. Pretty normal, I guess. What about you?”

Chris chuckled. “Normal enough, though chemistry was a little more interesting today.”

Meris raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Why’s that?”

“Well, you know, sitting two rows away from someone cool tends to liven things up,” he said, his tone teasing but genuine.

Meris felt a small smile tug at her lips. “Is that so? I didn’t think you’d even notice.”

Chris shook his head, his expression softening. “Hard not to notice you, Meris. You’re not like everyone else here.”

Meris’s stomach tightened at his words, but she tried to play it off. “That sounds like a line.”

“Maybe it is,” Chris admitted, grinning, “but it’s also true.”

Meris glanced at him, her heart beating faster than she liked. His sincerity was disarming, and it made her want to open up, even though she knew she couldn’t reveal too much.

“What about you?” she asked, shifting the focus. “What made you come here? New school midyear isn’t exactly a common thing.”

Chris hesitated for a moment, his expression flickering with something Meris couldn’t quite place. “Family stuff,” he said finally. “We move around a lot. My parents’ jobs, mostly.”

“That must be hard,” Meris said softly.

“It has its moments,” Chris admitted, kicking at a stray pebble on the sidewalk. “But it’s also kind of cool. You get to meet new people, see new places. Like here, for example.”

Meris tilted her head. “What’s so great about here?”

Chris gave her a sidelong glance, his smile small but genuine. “Well, I met you, didn’t I?”

Meris felt her cheeks warm, even though she couldn’t blush. “You’re really good at this whole smooth-talking thing, you know that?”

Chris laughed. “What can I say? I aim to impress.”

Their conversation continued as they walked, flowing easily between teasing banter and genuine curiosity about each other. Chris told her about the places he’d lived, the random hobbies he’d picked up along the way, and Meris found herself relaxing, drawn in by his openness.

When they reached the corner where their paths split, Chris slowed, turning to face her.

“Thanks for walking with me,” he said. “I don’t usually… I don’t know, talk this much with people.”

Meris smiled faintly. “Me neither. I guess you’re easy to talk to.”

Chris’s grin widened. “Guess that makes two of us.”

They stood there for a moment, the cool breeze swirling around them.

“See you tomorrow?” Chris asked, his tone hopeful.

“Yeah,” Meris said softly. “See you tomorrow.”

As Chris walked away, Meris watched him go, her chest tightening with a mix of excitement and fear. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she could let someone in—but she couldn’t ignore the voice in the back of her mind, reminding her of the truth she still couldn’t share.

And yet, as she turned to head home, she couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was a risk worth taking.

Meris walked into her house, the faint sound of leaves rustling outside accompanying her every step. She closed the door behind her, slipping her bag off her shoulder and setting it by the stairs. The house was quiet, as always, and the stillness wrapped around her like a familiar, if somewhat lonely, cloak.

She’d just sat down on the couch, thinking about her walk home with Chris, when her phone buzzed. The screen lit up with Marliene’s name. Smiling, Meris swiped to answer.

“Hey, Mar. What’s up?”

“Okay, so you’re coming over tonight,” Marliene said without preamble, her voice buzzing with excitement.

Meris furrowed her brow. “Tonight? What’s going on?”

“My brother, Trip, is hosting a party,” Marliene said, a hint of mischief in her tone. “Parents are out of town, which means our house is basically the spot tonight.”

Meris sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “A party? Really? You know I don’t—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Marliene interrupted. “I already knew you’d try to bail, but you’re not getting out of this one. You’ve been way too wrapped up in your vampire bubble lately. You need to, you know, interact with people.”

“I interact with people,” Meris protested weakly.

“Uh-huh. Sure. And by people, you mean me and Chris?” Marliene teased.

Meris groaned. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s true,” Marliene shot back. Then, her tone shifted, taking on a playful edge. “Speaking of Chris, you should totally invite him.”

Meris froze. “What? No. Why would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Marliene countered. “You like him, he clearly likes you, and this is the perfect chance for you two to hang out outside of school. It’s casual, no pressure. Plus, he seems like the kind of guy who’d enjoy a good party.”

“I don’t even know if he’d want to come,” Meris said, though she could already feel her resolve weakening.

“Only one way to find out,” Marliene said, her tone sing-song.

Meris hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. The idea of inviting Chris felt both thrilling and terrifying. What if he said no? Or worse, what if he said yes, and things got complicated?

“Come on, Mer,” Marliene pressed. “It’s just a party. You don’t have to make it a big deal. And besides, I’ll be there. I’ll even make sure Trip doesn’t do anything stupid, which is basically a full-time job.”

Meris sighed, finally relenting. “Fine. I’ll… I’ll ask him.”

“That’s my girl,” Marliene said, her grin audible through the phone. “See you tonight! Party starts at eight, but come over early if you want to help me pick an outfit.”

“Sure,” Meris said, rolling her eyes fondly.

They hung up, and Meris sat staring at her phone for a moment, debating whether she should actually text Chris. Finally, with a deep breath, she opened their conversation thread.

Meris: Hey, do you have plans tonight?

It only took a minute for his reply to pop up.

Chris: Not really. Why?

Meris: There’s a party at my friend Marliene’s house. I thought maybe you’d want to come.

She hit send before she could overthink it, her heart pounding as she waited for his response.

Chris: A party? That sounds fun. When is it?

Meris: Starts at eight. I can text you the address.

Chris: Sounds good. I’ll see you there.

Meris let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, a small smile tugging at her lips.

This was happening. She was inviting Chris deeper into her world, and for the first time, she felt a flicker of hope that maybe, it could work.

Now she just had to survive the party.

[doki-doki-imagines]

"You want to go out for a walk? To relax a bit." You ask Kenshi, who nods at your proposal.

That's why you now find yourself walking through the forest of Wu Shi Academy on your free day. The orange uniforms left at home replaced by your more comfortable clothes.

You feel at ease with Kenshi, a sense of comfort you couldn't find with Liu Kang, as his god status never let you fully relax around him, nor with Raiden and Kung Lao, nice guys but with minds too concentrated on themselves, for a reason or another.

The sun shines bright in the sky, but summer will soon leave his place to autumn, and its rays aren't as powerful as the previous months. You walk ahead Kenshi, more used to these paths forgotten by men where nature is overtaking the grey path made before.

"Look! It's pomegranates." You point toward a tree to your left, big red fruits hanging from the branches.

"You want to eat one?" Kenshi asks, now next to you.

"No, I like them, but it will be a pain to get them. They are so high." You say, still looking up at them.

Kenshi looks at you, but you don't notice it, then he walks towards the tree and you finally see him now climbing the plant.

"Wait, Kenshi! You'll get dirty." You shout at him, but it is too late, the black-haired guy already plucked the fruit from the tree and jumped on the ground.

"Let's sit down there." He tells you, head nods toward the staircase at the end of the abandoned path, pink flowers at the side and between the cement.

"Okay, but look! Now you are all dirty. I'm so s-"

"I don't mind it." Kenshi tells you, brushing away your hands that were trying to clean the dust and dirt from his sky-blue shirt. "I'll wash it when we go back to the temple."

You sit next to him, not too near, not too far; a comfortable space where you hope Kenshi finds ease too. Your eyes land on his hands, tattoos, a bit faded by time, color his hands, his thumb digging into the apex of the fruit, fingers strong enough to break the thick red skin of the pomegranate.

Kenshi winces when the red sticky juice covers his hand, for a moment you guess ugly memories of his past may have resurfaced, but then you finally understand, thanks to an event of a few days before.

----

"Come on Kenshi! Peel the orange yourself if you want it so much." Johnny whines, before peeling the fruit anyway, giving the black-haired guy a slice of it. "I hate to get my hands dirty. Even more, if they also get sticky."

Johnny blabbers about being "sure you don't always mind having your hands sticky" but your attention gets caught by something else and you didn't listen to them.

----

"Here, take some." Kenshi says, voice low and calm. "Thank you." You reply, right hand forming a cup to take some of the seeds. "I'm sorry for not breaking the fruit. At least I would have been useful." You chuckle, eyes now low on the ground under your feet.

"I don't mind." Kenshi replies, spitting the white seed on the ground, head turned not to show you the gesture.

You know he minds, you can even see it by the twitch of his fingers, desperately trying to brush off the sticky juice.

But for you he doesn't. The urge to tap your feet like a happy kid is intense, but you keep yourself together, enjoying once again the sound of nature.

This time sitting slightly closer to him.