#simple ways to embrace autumn

[teamred]

sunday morning

✩‌ logan howlett x reader x wade wilson | fluff | suggestive | 1.1k

SUMMARY | autumn weather begins to roll in one sunday morning. you greet your boyfriends in the living room, finding wade matching you in one of logan's signature plaid shirts. // part of the home sweet home series

WARNINGS | making out, touching, s*xual jokes, morning s*x on the couch implied

RATING | teen+

Warm streams of sunlight pour through the slitted window shades and onto the bed, draping over your eyes and waking you from your beautiful slumber.

With a content smile, you savor the fact that it’s Sunday and that sunlight, rather than an obnoxious alarm, is your wake-up call. You prefer it this way over any day.

Despite the sun’s warmth, you find it chilly, more so than usual, especially in contrast to your t-shirt and shorts-clad body. Fall approaches and it’s one of your favourite times of the year. The beginning of cozy drinks, crisp air, and the city blanketed in vibrant orange leaves. 

But for now, you’re not quite ready to embrace autumn, tugging the blanket up and covering your shivering self up to your neck to ward off the chill. 

Reaching behind you in the king-sized bed, you hope to find one of your boyfriends for a little extra comfort and warmth, but your hand only meets empty space. Your ears catch the familiar hum of your more talkative partner, along with the TV and satisfying sounds of morning coffee being made. 

Blinking the sleep away, you spend a few more moments nestling in your blanket. When you finally decide to get up, you instinctively step towards Logan’s side of the closet and grab one of his brown plaid shirts to cover-up. Given his taller stature, the ends of his shirt easily cover your thighs. 

The bedroom door creaks open and Dogpool immediately welcomes you with a happy wag of her tail. Squatting down to her level, you pet her on the head and give her some loving scritches. 

Glancing up, you spot Logan sprawled on the sectional sofa, watching TV with his legs draped over the extended part. He’s wearing a simple white tee and plaid pajama pants and adorning a bit of messy hair.

Across the room, in the kitchen, Wade’s whistling as he makes drinks, decked out in one of his many Spider-man shirts, pink and white striped pajama bottoms, and another plaid shirt from Logan’s extensive collection. 

Your smile widens at the sight of him in Logan’s clothes, fawning how handsome he is, almost rocking it as much as Logan does.  

Standing up, you catch Logan eyeing you up and down, gaze lingering on how the oversized shirt fits you. There’s a glint in his eye, reminiscent of how he looked at you last night. 

“Mornin’, beautiful,” he says with a small smile, his voice still carrying the raspy edge of waking up early.

“Good morning, sweet cheeks!” Wade sing-songs. “How are the holes this fine—” 

His face lights up as he sees what you’re wearing. 

“Oh, my God! We’re totally matchy-matchy, babe,” Wade says, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated surprise.  

You stroll into the kitchen and touch his chest from behind. “We are, indeed, babe.” 

Initially, you plant a chaste kiss on his cheek, but he turns his head after, diving into a deep kiss. Post-kiss, he gently rubs his nose against yours, holding you by your waist. You giggle at the affectionate gesture. 

“Who pulls it off better, Logie Bear?” Wade asks, still tenderly holding you with locked eyes.

“You know the answer to that,” Logan deadpans from the living room. 

“It’s me,” Wade mouths, pointing to himself dramatically. Although you shake your head in disagreement, you beam in response. 

Reluctantly, you pull away from Wade’s body, but still keep contact in the form of hand-holding. You grab the cup of tea he made for you. 

“It’s cool this morning, huh?” you comment, blowing your tea before taking a sip. 

“Yeah, fall’s officially here to eat our ass out,” he mirrors you, drinking some of his coffee. “Not that I’m complaining—you know I love me some PSLs.” 

You glance at the color of his coffee. 

“Wade, I’m not sure pumpkin spice lattes can even compete with how sweet and creamy you take your coffee.” 

“What are you talking about? I add just a teeny, tiny pinch of cream and sugar,” he protests. 

“You drink coffee the worst way, bub,” Logan pipes up, surprisingly listening in on the pointless conversation. 

“Okay, Mr. I-Drink-Coffee-As-Dark-As-My-Empty-Soul,” Wade retorts with a roll of his eyes. He jerks a thumb toward the living room. “Get a load of this guy, am I right? Actually, on second thought, you did get a load of him last night. And me, of course.” 

He winks at you and all you can do is shake your head, indulging in Wade’s humor. You gather your tea and another cup, then walk towards the couch. Setting a cup of black coffee on a coaster in front of Logan and placing your tea beside it, you settle next to him. He drags his attention away from the TV and reaches out for you, touching the back of your bare thigh. 

“Thanks, baby,” he says, rubbing his thumb tenderly over your skin. You squeeze his hand in response, a silent “Of course” conveyed.

“Did Wade wake you up?” you ask. 

Logan shakes his head. “No, I was up before sunrise. Had a hard time fallin’ back asleep.” 

“Was it really bad last night?” you ask in concern, reaching out to stroke his face.

“No, it was fine,” he assures. “Sleep’s been better since we started this.” 

This obviously implying the unconventional relationship you three share, but it works, even if Logan’s not keen to admit how he has a soft spot for Wade. Logan leans into you for a kiss, his grin spreading as he does so. It’s hard not to mirror his smile. 

The kissing is innocent, but only for so long.

“You look so fuckin’ good in just my shirt, y’know that?” he murmurs, tugging you flush to his body. His calloused hands trail up your legs and underneath his shirt that you’re wearing. A low moan follows. 

“Hey, invite me if you’re gonna be fucking on my couch without me!” Wade exclaims, suddenly flopping across Logan’s lap and your body. You groan, trying to support the weight of your two muscle-bound boyfriends. 

“It’s Al’s couch!” you and Logan chorus, barely managing to keep your balance.

“And don’t you forget it!” Althea suddenly says, her voice muffled behind her bedroom door. 

Logan shifts to press closer against Wade while still holding onto you. Your other boyfriend dips his head, kissing you fervently. His coffee breath is unmistakable, but you couldn't care less, especially when you feel Wade pressing his rising hardness against you.

“Also, besides my usual warning about keeping it down, if you’re gonna fuck on the couch again, please wipe it down after,” Blind Al calls out, still behind the door.  

“Yes, Al,” all three of you respond in unison in your tangled harmony. 

Before long, plaid shirts are tossed aside, along with the rest of everyone’s bed wear. You keep your moans and whines to a minimum for Al’s sake (or at least you try to).

You welcome the oncoming weather of fall with your bodies pressed up against each other, exchanging warmth in the chill morning. 

And of course, besides sleeping in, you remember why Sunday mornings are your absolute favourite.

[choerypetal]

A promise / Billy Hargrove

summary: From the moment Billy arrived at Hawkins, he couldn't help but be drawn to you. What started as a simple interest soon spiraled into a full-blown fixation. Eventually, he worked up the courage to ask you out on a date, but with all the rumors and suspicions swirling around him, the question remains: is it really worth the risk?

ps: english isn't my first language so i apologize for any smol errors. also this a billy x reader!fem enjoy!

Billy’s gaze lingered as you strode out of the parking lot, books pressed tightly against your chest. The rhythmic click of your heels echoed against the concrete, mingling with the crisp whispers of an autumn breeze. Strands of your hair danced with the wind, and your lips, painted in a precise cherry-red hue, seemed to command attention. In that moment, Billy truly saw you—for him, you were no longer just a passing figure but a captivating new distraction.

In fact, there were times when, as soon as the bell rang, Billy would slip out early just for a fleeting glimpse of you in the crowd. The way your figure seemed to stand out among the other students, the effortless charm of your smile as you bid your friends goodbye—it all set his stomach into an uneasy churn. He knew it was only a matter of time before Max noticed her brother’s sudden change in behavior. Yet, deep down, a part of him didn’t care. Maybe he even wanted to be caught.

Every graduate received an invitation to a party, and Tina had taken it upon herself to throw a Halloween Bash. It surprised you, at first, that everyone—including the new kid—was invited. Then again, it didn’t. He was, after all, the talk of the town. It wasn’t long before you finally caught his name: Billy. Billy Hargrove.

You arrived at Tina’s house that evening, a few hours before the party officially began. She had insisted on helping you get ready, carefully setting your hair in rollers before cooling the curls. Offering her lipstick with a grin, she declared it the perfect shade to complement your look. As the finishing touch, she dusted a bit of powdered blush across your cheeks. When the rollers were removed, the volume from the mousse delivered its promise, your curls falling in perfect waves.

Tina gasped dramatically, her eyes lighting up. “You are definitely the bombshell of the night, Y/N.” Pulling you into a tight embrace, she let out a playful chuckle before pressing a kiss to your cheek, leaving behind an unmistakable smudge of her lipstick.

“Tina!” you protested, your lips forming a pout as you tried to assess the damage. “My makeup! Now I’ll have to rush to the bathroom to fix it.”

Tina rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Oh, admit it—you wish it was Billy. Don’t lie, sweetheart.” Your brows knit together in confusion at her teasing remark. “What are you talking about? Please, Tina,” you retorted, crossing your arms. “He doesn’t exactly hide it, you know. I’ve noticed him watching me after class. His sister filled in the blanks for me.”

Tina let out a knowing chuckle, her fingers reaching out to playfully pinch your lipstick-tinted cheek. “Well, then,” she said, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “I hope you’re ready for tonight’s party—because he sure will be.”

“More than ever.” 

The party unfolded just as expected. Students from all different classes filtered in, the buzz of laughter and music filling the air. You exchanged greetings with a few familiar faces, including Nancy and Steve, who seemed genuinely delighted to see you. But amidst the crowd, your attention kept drifting to one person in particular—Billy.

Billy had chosen a costume that was simple yet unmistakably bold, one that made him stand out effortlessly��a deliberate move, knowing you would be there. He basked in the attention, especially during his last show-off, drawing gazes from classmates and, more importantly, from you. Just as the crowd crowned him the new king of the party, your eyes met his, moments before Steve’s glare joined the mix.

“There’s a new king, Harrington!” someone shouted, the taunt hanging in the air. Steve’s protective stance shifted subtly, his arm brushing closer to yours, a motion that did not go unnoticed by Billy. His jaw tightened, his blood simmering at the sight. You could feel Billy’s intense gaze boring into you, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as he closed the distance, his shadow falling over you like a storm cloud.

“Chill, Hargrove,” Steve said, his tone edged with concern as he caught the subtle gulp you tried to hide. Your fingers toyed nervously with the ends of your hair, your cheeks burning beneath the dramatic blush Tina had so generously applied. You prayed it masked the heat of your reaction. Billy smirked, his voice low and biting as his eyes flicked to Steve. “Don’t worry, Harrington,” he drawled. “I won’t touch the pretty bird. Right?” His words dripped with challenge as his attention snapped back to you, daring a response you weren’t ready to give.

The pretty bird—a nickname he’d just bestowed upon you, dripping with both charm and dominance. “Right,” you murmured, echoing his words in the same low, uncertain tone. You could’ve sworn you saw the corners of his lips twitch into a smug smirk, as if he’d won some unspoken game.

A single, satisfied nod was all he gave before turning and venturing off into the party, leaving a trail of intrigue in his wake. From that night forward, you weren’t just another face in the crowd. To Billy Hargrove, you were his pretty prey.

A few weeks had passed since the party when Billy finally had the courage to speak to you. By then, the two of you had developed an unexpectedly close friendship, something that continued to baffle both Steve and Nancy. Despite his unrelenting attitude toward them—and even Max—there was something different about the way he acted around you. His sharp edges seemed to soften; his piercing gaze grew warmer, and his voice carried a calmness that seemed out of character.

The Billy everyone else knew was almost unrecognizable when he was with you. It was as if you’d uncovered a side of him that no one else had seen. But then came the night of the date, a night that would change everything.

Max was out of the house, giving Billy some rare peace. Music blasted from his room as he paced, running through a mental checklist to make sure everything was perfect. All he could think about was you—how you’d said yes without a moment’s hesitation, your smile igniting a spark he hadn’t felt in years. The rush of excitement coursed through him as he glanced at the clock. Then came the knock at his bedroom door, sharp and abrupt. “Billy!” The voice on the other side wasn’t Max’s. It carried a weight that sent a chill down his spine, breaking through the haze of his thoughts.

“Yeah I am a little bit busy here Susan!” 

“Open the door!” his father urged. “Right now!”

A sigh escaped from Billy’s lips as he took a final puff from his cigarette, his eyes briefly flicking to the clock. There was hesitation in the air before he finally opened the door. Standing before him were his father and Susan, their faces etched with obvious concern. He could feel the tension in his chest, the weight of the moment pressing down. He couldn’t afford to be late—not tonight.

“What’s wrong?” Billy asked, his voice strained as he tried his best to hide the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. This last-minute checkup was the last thing he needed right now, especially with you waiting.

“What don’t you tell us?” his father shot back, matching Billy's tone.

Billy’s jaw clenched, his patience thinning. “Because I don’t know,” he snapped, his hands instinctively balling into fists at his sides. He couldn’t keep his frustration hidden, not with this constant interference. But in the back of his mind, all he could focus on was the ticking clock and the promise of the night ahead.

“We can’t find Maxine,” Susan said, her voice tinged with growing worry. The poor woman only wanted answers about her daughter. “And her window’s open,” Billy’s father added, his tone sharp.

“Where is she?” Billy’s father demanded, his impatience creeping through.

Billy glanced to the side, his mind racing for an answer. He hadn’t seen Maxine since school let out. He assumed she was in her room. "I don’t know," he muttered, uncertainty in his voice.

“You don’t know?” His father scoffed, disbelief lacing his words. “How could you not know where your sister is?”

“Look, I’m sure she went to… I don’t know, the arcade or something?” Billy muttered, trying to brush off the situation as he walked over to grab his coat. His mind, however, was elsewhere—on you. He couldn’t shake the thought of you waiting for him, and the frustration of being dragged into this mess was beginning to boil over. Why was it always him who had to be the one punished for things he didn’t even know about?

“You were supposed to watch her,” his father’s voice cut through the air, stern and accusing, as he watched Billy put on his coat.

Billy paused, exhaling sharply. “I know, Dad, I was. It’s just... you guys were three hours late, and... well, I have a date tonight,” he muttered, his voice tight with irritation. He turned to face his father, the frustration finally boiling over. “I’m sorry, okay?”

The look on his father’s face remained cold, his silence only intensifying the tension in the room. He stood there, inconvenienced, before finally speaking. “I’ve been looking after her all week. If she wants to run off, that’s her problem. She’s not my sister—!”

Billy’s words were cut off as his back hit the wall, his father’s fist striking his cheek with a force that left him stunned. “What did we talk about?” his father growled, his grip tightening on Billy’s collar, pulling him forward. “Respect. And responsibility.”

Billy’s pulse raced, his face burning from the impact and the anger building in his chest. His father’s voice was low but unforgiving. “That’s right. Now apologize to Susan.”

Billy fought the urge to cry, the sting of the slap still fresh against his skin, but the sound of his father's footsteps fading away gave him some space to breathe. He knew, deep down, no matter what happened, his mind was already set. Your house was the next place he would go. He drove faster than he meant to, forgetting just how close your place was. Hours had passed since his original plans, and while he was certain you’d probably given up on the date, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to see you.

Inside your room, you sighed as you began removing your makeup. Steve’s words echoed in your mind—Billy was nothing but trouble. You were starting to see the truth in his warning.

But then, a soft rustle from the window made you turn. You froze, eyes wide, as the window creaked open. A quiet groan reached your ears, followed by the unmistakable figure of Billy struggling to climb through, despite the risk of being caught by your parents.

“Billy!” You whispered urgently, your heart pounding in your chest. Panic and disbelief filled your voice. You rushed over to help him down, your hands instinctively reaching for him. When he finally landed on his feet, you couldn’t help but notice the bloodshot look in his eyes—a raw, exhausted intensity that seemed so out of place. It was clear he’d lost control somewhere along the way, a little too much for him to handle.

"Are you okay?" You whispered, the concern slipping through despite everything you had begun to doubt about him.

“Hey… what’s wrong?” Your fingers gently cupped his face, your touch tender as you tried to get a better look at him. Billy had always dreamed of this moment—the way your hand felt on his cheek, the softness in your eyes. He closed his eyes slowly, leaning into your touch as if it was the only thing grounding him in that moment.

“Did something happen? For our date to…” You paused, hesitant to place the blame entirely on him. “...be canceled? I wanted to call to make sure you were on your way… but I was suspicious you were ditching me for someone else.”

Ditching? Billy’s eyes snapped open, his expression caught between surprise and offense. “Never, sweetheart,” he said quickly, his voice rougher than usual, hoarse from something deeper. “It’s just…” He trailed off, his words strained, tired. Then you noticed something else—on the edge of his jaw, a bruise barely hidden by the shadow of his stubble.

“Did… did you get hurt?” Your concern washed over him, a mix of worry and care that made him feel worse, like a knot tightening in his chest. The thought of letting you down, of your date being postponed, only made it more difficult to face you.

Billy shook his head, his eyes briefly avoiding yours, a flicker of shame flashing across his features. “No… just my dad,” he muttered, trying to brush it off. It wasn’t annoyance that made him look away, but something far deeper—guilt. A part of him wanted to tell you, but the words stuck in his throat, heavy with the weight of his own turmoil.

A thought crept into your mind, an unsettling one you couldn’t shake. “Did your…?” The question hung in the air, but Billy’s silence was all the answer you needed. The weight of it made something inside you stir, a wave of emotion that urged you to pull him close, to hold him and let him release whatever he’d been bottling up. You wanted to be the one to let him break down, to let him know he didn’t have to keep it all in anymore.

Billy hesitated, his body tense with the internal battle, but the sigh he let out spoke volumes—words he couldn’t say, but emotions that bled through his every movement. As your arms wrapped around his waist, your head resting against his chest, Billy froze. His breath hitched for a moment, and your heart ached at the vulnerability he was showing.

He shifted, unsure at first, but then his arms pulled you tighter into his embrace, the weight of his grief sinking into you. His body rocked you gently, a rhythm of unspoken sorrow, until the quiet sobs began to break through. Billy Hargrove, the walls he built so high, was finally letting go. And for the first time, he felt safe enough to cry.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured through his tears, his voice barely audible but full of raw sincerity. “Promise me tomorrow… we’ll have a date together.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you lifted your head to meet his gaze, your fingers reaching up to wipe away a tear that slipped down his cheek. “I love you too, Billy Hargrove,” you whispered, your voice soft but certain. “I promise.”

[bet-on-me-13]

Reincarnation AU but it's not Danny

So! In basically every single Reincarnation AU I've seen, it's always Danny who gets reincarnated as a DC character. Sometimes it's Jazz, other times it's his Friends, but it never really strays from them. And I think we've been ignoring some people...

The Ancients! Danny is always reincarnated as a "Vacation" from his Ghost King Duties, so why not give the same courtesy to the other Ancients?

Specifically, Fright Knight.

Fright Knight has been a loyal servant and Knight of his Master for Millenia. Ever since he first formed as the Autumn Spirit, the Embodiment of Fear, the Fright Knight, he had declared his Servitude to the Ghost King, whomever it may be at the time. And he stayed in that position, through the passing of the Crown, through the Violent Coups, through every single Ghost King who had taken to the mantle. He was their Loyal Knight. Never Wavering. Never leaving their side.

Until Pariah Dark, but that situation was different. No previous King had even tried to take the human world before.

Thankfully, Pariah had only taken the Throne for a mere 5000 years, so he had not had to put up with him for long, and much of that time was with him stuck in his Coffin. That was the first time Fright Knight had ever left his Masters Side.

Then, that insolent Halfa he had met before came into the picture and Fright Knight had a new master.

King Phantom was...different.

Perhaps it was his remaining Humanity poking through? Or was it was the influence of the Human Realm that he still regularly visited? Or maybe he was simply just a Good Person, and there was no deeper meaning behind it?

Either way, Fright Knight noticed that he cared for his subjects in a far deeper manner than any previous king had. He had personal connections with as many Ghosts as he could, and often called the Ghosts he ruled his, Friends. It warmed his Long Frozen Core to see a King valuing his Subjects as much as he did.

He did not realize that the kindness Phantom extended to his people, also extended to himself.

One day, Phantom had been discussing his Human Life with some of his friends. Not his First Life, but his most recent Vacation. Over the Eons since he had taken the Throne, Phantom had been encouraged to take a Vacation every once in a while. It was not healthy for a Ghost to work non-stop like he did, especially for a Halfa.

It was not an uncommon practice in the Realms, many would take a break from the Endlessness of Death to embrace Life once more through Reincarnation. Although, many were too weak to retain their memories upon their second Forming. Mostly, it was Ancients or Kings who would use this as a Vacation, rather than a New Beginning.

There came a break in the conversation, and King Phantom turned his attention to his Knight. "Frighty, when was the last time you Reincarnated? Pandora did so recently, and it got me thinking."

"I have not taken leave of my post for thr Eons since my Forming, My Lord" Replied the Knight with Pride.

"What? You haven't taken a Break since you formed!? Frighty! That's not Healthy!" Exclaimed his King.

This lead to a whole conversation about how unhealthy his lifestyle was, which was another quirk of his Master. He cared for his Sunjects beyond their happiness.

"Fright Knight, as your King and as your Friend, I implore you to take a Vacation. It doesn't have to be forever, just a simple Human Lifespan, but please take a break, for your own Good."

And how could he refuse a request like that? One based in the kindness that his Majesty always showed his Subjects.

It took a few more years to finally iron out the plan for his Vacation, but what are a few years in the face of Eternity?

Finally, it came time to take his leave to the Mortal Realm, and to Life itself.

"Farewell, my Leige." Bowed Fright Knight, "I thank you for this opportunity."

"There's no need to thank me. Now go, and have fun, My Dark Knight."

...

That day, in Gotham General Hospital, a baby was born.

"What will you name him?" Asked the Doctor.

"I think I'll call him..." Began the need Mother, "...Bruce. Bruce Wayne."

[bookwormjust]

Bonding time (established relationship, Helion’s mate, truth not hidden anymore, Lucien son of Helion) 

You sat in the lush gardens of the Day Court, the golden sunlight dappling through the trees, creating a serene, warm atmosphere. Lucien sat beside you on the marble bench, his posture stiff at first, as if unsure how to navigate this newfound relationship. The tension from his recent confrontation with Helion still lingered in the air, but there was a softness now, a vulnerability in Lucien that hadn’t been there before. 

You looked over at him, offering a gentle smile, your hand reaching out to rest on his arm—just a simple, motherly gesture. “I know this must be a lot,” you said softly, your voice full of understanding. “But I’m here. You don’t have to carry everything alone.”

Lucien’s amber eye flickered toward you, and for a moment, you saw the boy beneath the hardened exterior—the one who had grown up without the warmth of a true mother’s embrace. Lady Autumn, though she had tried, had never been able to give him the care and love he needed, burdened as she was by her own fears and her role in the Autumn Court.

“I’ve never had this,” Lucien admitted quietly, his voice raw. “A mother figure, someone who... sees me.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and without hesitation, you pulled him into a gentle hug. He hesitated for a moment before slowly relaxing into your embrace. “You’ll always have that here,” you whispered, stroking his back with a tenderness he had never known. “You’re part of this family now, Lucien. You’ve always been.”

From across the garden, Helion watched you both, his golden eyes softening with pride and love. He stood leaning against a tree, arms crossed, but there was a quiet intensity in the way he observed the two of you. This moment—this simple act of bonding—meant more to him than any battle he had ever fought, any victory he had ever claimed. It was healing in its purest form, something Helion had longed for, for both you and Lucien.

Through your bond, you heard Helion’s voice in your mind, thick with emotion. *Thank you,* he said, his mental tone filled with a deep, profound gratitude. *You’ve given him something I never could. You’re healing both of us, my love. I don’t deserve you.*

A warm rush of affection surged through you as you held Lucien a little tighter. *You deserve everything, Helion,* you replied, sending him love through the bond. *We’re a family now. We’ll heal together.*

Lucien finally pulled away, offering you a small, tentative smile—a glimpse of the man he could become with the right kind of love and care. And as you looked over at Helion, the two of you exchanged a silent promise. You were all going to move forward, stronger and more whole than before.

[kentoxo]

can we have a gojo fic where his best friend is a girl, with a gung-ho personality, and she challenges him and makes him feel alive.

They kept their feelings for each other hidden so well for 10 years of their friendship since highschool.

a year of them not speaking, their friendship dissolved into nothing after a petty argument.

So when Satoru sees her walking in the bubbly way she always did at their highschool reunion, he pounces at her.

smutty, angsty, a bit heartwarming. have fun

OOO I like this! 100% gojo's kind of woman and honestly inspiration for his crackhead energy. Thank you anon for this req!

pairing: reader (f) x bestfriend!Gojo

synopsis: Gojo never imagined he'd ever see you again. You were the catalyst of his refined, carefree spirit. He yearned for you. And little did he know that you did for him as well.

warning: rated m for making out, fingering, eating out

a/n: I've been beside myself regarding whether I want this in the normal jjk world or a slice of life au. i think normal for more writing freedom

The first time Satoru Gojo saw you, it was during class intermission. Your high school was very kind and gave you all the teenager-equivalent to recess. They gave you the option to either hang out in the library, hit the gym, or lounge outside the back of the school.

Satoru was a simple teen, always choosing to go outside just to enjoy fresh hour for the hour you all had. He would sit right under the large willow tree at the backyard of the school, finding peace in the dancing of its branches and the shade it provided. But, it was routinely disturbed by Suguru Geto.

"Did you hear?" Suguru's steps lightly crunched the grass as he joined Satoru under the tree. Satoru had his eyes closed with his hands folded on his lap, embracing the final warmth of the summer before autumn truly took over. "Satoru?"

"I heard you," the white-haired wonder murmurs, "hear 'bout what?"

"The new girl that just transferred in," Suguru informs. Satoru didn't care much for rumormongering, but it was nice to have Suguru as a consistent informant on what goes on in their class. "Todays the first day, and she went ahead and challenged the leader of the wrestling team."

That's different. "Is that so," Satoru replies nonchalantly, his eyes still completely shut. "What a strange girl."

"She's quirky, but very beautiful," Suguru adds. "But she must be out of her mind to challenge a guy like that."

Satoru adjusts himself, crossing his arms behind his head. "If that's what she likes," Satoru couldn't care less. Suguru doesn't respond, and the two stay silent for a moment. But the silence was quickly interrupted when a crowd of students came out of the school, cheering and chanting emanating from them. "Hm?"

"I believe they're here for the fight," Suguru assumes. He scratches the back of his head, his forearm throwing his long, black hair to the side. "I'm guessing they're gonna wrestle in the sand pit there."

Satoru allowed one eye open to see the commotion. A crowd surfed through the backyard, with two students leading the pack. The first was a particularly muscly student, which could be safely assumed is the wrestling leader. But the next student beside him was you.

Suguru wasn't lying when he said you were quirky. No girl in their right mind would want to wrestle a guy with that stature. But he definitely wasn't lying when he said you were beautiful, too. The uniform hugged your body a little too well, but it was truly your face that caused Satoru to open both of his eyes.

Your expression was fierce with a shit-eating smile that Satoru couldn't help but become entranced with.

You radiated a sort of confidence that Satoru's never seen before. It could be due in part of the fact that Satoru wasn't a very social person. Despite being popular among your classmates, Suguru was the only friend he cared to have around.

The two friends watched, with Satoru being surprised at how eager he suddenly was. He leaned forward, his eyes glued at the sand pit where you and the boy stood, preparing for your tussle.

With another student as a mediator/referee, you listened closely to the rules and nodded. You smirked at your challenger, your heart practically tightening in excitement. "A clean fight, okay?" The referee repeats. "We don't want a teacher coming out and suspend us all."

Everyone laughed at the joke. "Lets get on with it, yeah?" Your opponent spewed. He was not amused one bit, considering his serious expression. "I don't like hurting girls."

You waive his concern, "don't worry, you won't."

He locked eyes with you, a glimmer of skepticism in his own. The referee stood between the two of you in the pit, his hand in the air to begin his count down. "3...2...1... Fight!" He shot his hand down and quickly escaped the sand pit.

The whole fight was a blur, but Satoru's jaw was on the floor when he witnessed the leader of the wrestling team on the ground, struggling to escape under your body. You had a toothy grin, your uniform completely scuffed with sand scratches ornate on your arms and legs.

Since that day, Satoru wanted to be known by you. You remember the boy coming up to you, his cheeks peachy and hands clammy when he introduced himself to you. Unlike all the other boys who found you intimidating, Satoru found you alluring. So, you pulled him into your own world.

"y/n, are you fucking insane?" Satoru's voice was shaky, nervous, all while still stable. The two of you stood on top of one of the biggest buildings in Japan. You have a knack for trespassing, and Satoru reluctantly followed your every move. Up until now, of course.

"Just a bit!" You glowed. You climbed up the abandoned crane on top of the building, your rough hands finding path in the bars and random equivalents of grips. "What's wrong, Satoru? You scarwed?" You teased with a baby voice.

You could see a teenage Satoru try to keep his cool, but quietly huffing and puffing when he thought you weren't looking. "it's dangerous, y/n," Satoru sounded distant behind you, his face going pale from how high you were at this point.

"It is dangerous, that's right," you yell back, your hands now gray from the accumulated dirt and dust. "But you'll never find excitement like this anywhere."

"Excitement or intense fear?" Satoru replied, his voice becoming a little louder. "I don't want anything to happen to you, y/n! Seriously!"

"Then come up here and guarantee it!" You muse. You make it to a comfortable spot to sit, turning around to look down at him. You felt the adrenaline bring you to the high you were seeking. You hands were rough and dirty, but your body felt strong and your heart was eager. You look down at the dashing boy below, "come keep me safe!"

"y/n, are you serious?" Satoru yells in dread. You nod aggressively with a wide smile. The tall boy stands there, his eyes distant with thought. You were humored from his trivial expression, his uncertainty fighting with his desire to live like you.

But you watched the nervous boy begin his trek towards you, his eyes never daring leaving the sky. You bounced joyously at his newfound bravery, causing him to emit nervous chuckles. Veins protrude his inner forearms, his breathing heavy from the effort and caution of his body. Once he was close enough, you happily offer your hand. His blue orbs held reticence, but your smile reassured him. His clammy hand meets yours, as you pull him up to the space beside you.

He creates a strong grip onto the crane, his fingers digging into the rusted metal. "are you happy?" Satoru murmurs.

"Aren't you?" You gush, nudging his shoulder gently. "Look over there." You point over at the city, and the clouds ornate between the buildings. The sun was setting, so the shadows of the skyscrapers were defined.

With a nervous gulp, Satoru looked down at the city, his bottom lip hung in awe. You watched as his nerves fade, and his hidden adrenaline finally coming forward. There was a shine in his eyes, and the way his white wisps of hair danced in the wind. A small smile pulled at the edges of his lips, and you swore to never forget the day that Satoru Gojo started his life.

Anyone with eyes could tell you that the two of you were meant to be together. A friendship transcending high school, the two of you were practically inseparable. Satoru would go find you during your work lunches, always swearing that he always gets a BOGO when in reality, he would buy you a separate lunch, opposite of the things he prefers to eat.

He was your adventure buddy, always down to follow your lead. Hiking the craziest mountains, parkouring on rooftops that you two were not meant to be at. He always had your back during paintball battles, your body rough but never shot out due to his diligent protection.

But the both of you were blind to one another's affection. The way Satoru grabs your hand whenever you two entered large crowds so he'd never lose you. The way you would fix Satoru's hair after every adventure, taking out the knots that has accrued, despite his grunts and groans. There are moments were he would just rub your hands, feeling the callouses collected since your younger years.

And you watched him grow, his confidence uncontainable. The quiet boy from high school was now a man full of vigor and ambition. Satoru has taken to exercise, his body beyond prepared for your adventures together. You couldn't help but stare at his muscles, the way his calves pulsated whenever he was reaching something high in the cabinets of your kitchen. Or the way his biceps flexed when carrying your groceries for you to the car. You could stare at him forever if you could.

Of course, until the day you couldn't stand to look at him.

"You can't be serious," you spat quietly. "When has there ever been a time where I've asked someone else before you?"

"Don't start," Satoru hums, "I asked her because someone said they'd be going on a work trip that weekend." He was sat on your couch, book in hand as you were fixing up the kitchen a bit.

You hung your head forward slightly, "and? You could still ask, 'Toru."

"If I asked you, you'd refuse to go on your work trip and just come with me to this skiing trip." This would be the very first time that Satoru goes on a fun trip like this without you. And he knows better than to ask anyone else.

"I'm an adult Satoru, I can make my own decisions," you hiss, "but instead, you've taken it upon yourself to decide for me." You begin to angrily organize your kitchen counter.

"Because I know how you are, y/n," Satoru begins, his soft tone begin to ramp up. "You'll want to go regardless of your work obligations. I'm sorry, but I can't let you be so careless."

"So why go without me anyways?" You ask, a bit of hurt in your words. "We go on these trips together, always. Why can't we then just coordinate this trip another time?"

Satoru closed his book and looked over at you, "the northern lights can be seen from Mt. Fuji this year. As much as I'd love to see them with you, you need to be more responsible and work. In turn, I don't want to miss this chance because you don't want me to go without you. It's a bit selfish, no?"

"Selfish?" The word left your tongue in distaste. "Me? You wouldn't have even wanted to do this if it weren't for me!"

"Quite bold of you for taking all the credit," Satoru lashes, his sunglasses sliding down to the tip of his nose. "I was eventually going to break from my shell-- you just kickstarted it early."

You eyes widen, narrowing down in appall from Satoru's words. The man that you watched grow up, that you helped grow up, was reducing your influence to a 'kickstart.' All of the solace that emanated from Satoru Gojo began to evaporate. "Leave," you muttered painfully.

This caught his attention, and Satoru took off his glasses. Blue eyes analyze your hurt expression, his eyes uncertain and almost... in disbelief? "y/n, you're being so dramatic. Seriously, it's not a big deal."

"To you, sure," you look away from him. You could feel your cheeks warm from the coming of tears. "Just leave, Satoru."

Satoru didn't hesitate, and rose from your couch, "you're being serious?" You don't look his way at all. Rolling his eyes, Satoru begins to grab his book and phone. "Whatever. So sorry for trying to be a good friend."

"Fuck off, Satoru," you spat.

"Yeah yeah, I'm fucking off," Satoru doesn't even hug you goodbye before he slams the door behind him. Neither of you realize it then, but that would be the last time you two saw each other, and exchanged words. Both of your prides did enough damage to eviscerate a friendship that you have loved for a long time. You cried that whole night, and the many weeks that followed.

"Shoko, is my dress okay?" You shyly pull down at the incredibly short red-dress you decided to model. Although it hugged you kindly (a little too much), it stopped just right under your ass. "I feel like if I bend over, I'll show everyone Earth's second moon."

Shoko, in a navy blue tube dress, chuckles between her cigarette pulls, "you look extremely sexy, if that's what you're asking."

"It isn't too much for this reunion?" You ignored her compliment.

Shoko shakes her head, "it's perfect."

Unknowingly to you, Satoru was already inside. His toned body was enhanced by a skin-tight, black turtleneck and black dress pants. His hair grew just a bit, tying it up in a ponytail as it would only make his tangling situation worse. He had red shades on, and a smile that could light up the universe. With a martini in hand, he was sharing laughs with all of your classmates from ages ago.

As he goes to take another swig of his drink, he almost chokes from the sight of you entering the school gym.

You entered in, no hint of shyness anywhere, despite your skimpy outfit. Many of your classmates were in awe, as the whole gym turned their attention to you. With infectious energy, you rush over with open arms to see the people you used to study with. His eyes drowned at the sight of you, your bubbly cheeks, your warm embraces to everyone who met your gaze. Even your laugh came back to his head, repeating itself like a metronome.

Satoru downs his drink, and makes his way towards you. Alcohol, combined with adrenaline, made Satoru move faster than he ever has. So swiftly, you even felt the breeze before his presence was known to you. Your eyes widen at the tall man with the white, wispy hair. His shadow, along with his gaze, swallows you whole.

You two could only stare at one another, having been a year since you've shared the same space. His hair, you thought. He was a little taller, his jaw slightly sharper. He smelled of cinnamon and hinoki wood. But his eyes... they didn't look quite like you remembered. They were dark and hollow. They appeared, in a word, empty.

Before you could begin the conversation, Satoru pulls you into his arms. A calmness washes over you, your tense body letting go. He held you just a bit tight, feeling as though your soul could fuse with his at any moment. He's so warm, you swooned in thought. Leaning down to your ear, he pulls a strand of your hair back and whispers, "can we talk somewhere?"

You silently nod, allowing for Satoru to hold you by your hand and guide you from the gym. You knew all eyes were on the both of you, considering that you two hadn't spoken for a year since your fall out. You didn't know what to expect, but you followed him obediently into one of the classrooms, a little far from the gym. He ushers you in, turning on the lights before pulling down the blinds of the classroom door window. The official windows of the classrooms were already shut, leaving the both of you completely isolated.

You slowly walk over to your old desk, remembering it was yours from the distinct, scratched in lily that was clearly never fixed. You turn around and take a seat on top of the desk, looking up and waiting for Satoru. But Satoru could only stare at you from a distance, unable to accept that you were here in front of him.

"Um," your voice sounds quietly, "long time no see, Sato--" before you could even finish, Satoru aggressively pushes the desks you carefully walked around and found his way to you. He grabs your cheeks in his large, rough hands and brings your face to his own. Lips collided, your nails digging frantically into the under of your desk. "mm--!"

An eager tongue slides between your lips, the taste of dry alcohol and lime intoxicating your own. He kissed you feverishly, his lips delicately chapped in the center. He closed the gap between the two of you, his toned abs pressing against your breasts. You then abandon the desk, ands latching themselves to the back of his shirt.

"'toru,--" you try between kisses and breaths, but Satoru was hungry. The way his tongue lapped around yours, the gentle pulls of your bottom lip between his teeth. Your hands snake to his firm chest, gently pushing him away without seeming disinterested. You look at him, trying to read his expression.

He was panting, but for the first time in your life, he was blushing. The empty eyes that briefly scared you were now lit up, just the way you remembered. His lips shined with your saliva, slightly agape to catch increments of air. "y/n," Satoru whispers.

"Satoru," you say with a firmer tone. You bring a hand up, fingers lightly rubbing your recently conquered lips. But his eyes wouldn't leave your gaze, causing your heart to lead a stampede. You realized you weren't ready to talk just yet. You pulled his shirt and brought him back to you, his face following suit, with lips rejoicing.

Satoru's hand curiously dragged its fingertips down your dress, finding its way to your thigh. He pauses, eyes opening to meet yours. Silent consent. You give yourself a few moments before nodding, allowing him to continue.

Butterflies delightfully tormented your stomach, as long, lanky fingers separate your thighs. They were cold, but your skin warmed them up as he found his way to your flower. You could feel his moans against your lips, his fingers curiously making its way between your homely folds. You perk up when your precum primes his fingers towards your cunt. They delicately filled you, three fingers finding solace in your warm, wet walls.

His lips leave yours, allowing for your moans and curses to escape. "ah--ah, s-satoru...!" His eyes widen at your sensual sounds. His breath hitched at the sound of his name from your mouth, your voice. This fueled Satoru, as he begins to finger fuck you more aggressively. The sound of your cum pierced the room as his fingers filled you up, and pulled out every other second. Your hands grip desperately at the hem of his shirt while you buried your face between his pecs.

"say my name again," Satoru demands in a whisper. "i've missed your voice so much, y/n. please, please keep saying it."

You blush, your eyes focused on the ever-growing bulge in his hands. It was just inches away from you, your mouth salivating at the thought of him. "s-satoru, satoru, f-fuck...!" He curled his fingers inside you, teasing your g-spot while also keeping the quick, steady pace of fucking your cunt. Your ears were heating up, your hands tightening their grip. "i'm... i'm...!" you could barely get your words out.

But Satoru knew exactly what you meant, a sinister smile playing at his lips. "perfect," he murmurs, completely removing his hand from your spot. You let out a disappointing sigh, but it is quickly waived when he suddenly holds your thighs, pulls your forward, and has your back on the desk. You look down, only for your head to writhe back in pleasure.

Pulling your panties down to your ankles, Satoru's lips introduce themselves to your pussy, his tongue lapping your folds. You could feel him dragging his tongue up to your clit, the tip circling around the sensitive bud. Your body writhes, with your hands desperately clinging onto his white wisps. His relentless sucking, hot breaths, and sporadic tongue work your pussy into an orgasm, your entire body tense and twitching.

Heavy breathes decorate the room, as Satoru takes out a handkerchief from his pocket and offers it to you. Your cheeks were a plum hue, but Satoru's face was completely beet red. You could feel his gaze on you as you got on your feet (weakly) and fix yourself up. He quickly gets on his knees, and pulls up your panties for you.

"Thank you very much," you quietly croak between breaths. But you noticed him not rising, with his head hung low. "Satoru? You can stand up no--"

"Y/N, I was wrong." His sharp admittance made you bite your tongue. You look down at him, unsure what to do. "I should have asked you first if you wanted to come with me. I should have never decided for you."

"Ah, Satoru, please--"

"No, I was wrong, and I regret it so, so much," his voice was shaky. "You didn't just kickstart it-- you were the reason that I needed to come out of my shell. And really, you were the reason why coming out of my shell was worth it."

You bring your hand down to his head, which makes him lower his head a bit more. "Satoru, take it easy, please..."

"I didn't enjoy myself at all-- I couldn't!" He exclaimed. "You bring me to life, and I didn't realize it until I saw those lights and didn't feel what I thought I would feel. The feeling I expected, I now realize, was because it was you I wanted to share that experience with."

You smile down at him, giggling to yourself a bit. "We were both wrong," you cooed. "Now please stand up. I don't want this to become a crying fest after you just ate me out."

Satoru looks up at you with watery eyes and a sheepish smile. His lips were still shining from your cum, and you couldn't help but get redder. As he got up and dusted his knees, he looked over at you with a smirk, "aren't you going to explain why you were also wrong?"

You looked up pensively before shaking your head, "nope!"

"Of course not," Satoru chuckles, his hands snaking around your waist, "now come here."

[yiiyiiwrites]

🍁 | Autumn Equinox | Azriel

Summary: you’ve been mated to Azriel for over a year now, but it’s your first time celebrating the autumn equinox outside your home court. Azriel tries his best to make it a good one 2075words

Azriel x Autumn court reader

Also Have one for [Cassian] & [Eris] & Lucien coming soon

[Acotar masterlist]

The autumn equinox used to be your favourite celebration, now it just reminded you of everything you’d lost. A bitter sweet holiday you wasn't sure if you could do each year.

You may have gained your fated lover, your other half but you’d given up your home and family.

There wasn’t any other way, you knew that. The moment you’d stumbled upon the shadow singer in the golden forests of autumn was the final fraying thread snapping.

If you didn’t hurt Azriel by your own hands, Beron would make an example of you and use you in what ever way to break the bond. To snuff out any flickering ember that remained for your mate.

So you were as sly as a fox, crawling under the overgrown hedges of molten brown thorns keeping you in the court.

Your mother understood, she packed your things as sobs shook her whole body. Even now as you closed your eyes, you could smell the tendrils of her smokey caramelised scent and the undertones of cinnamon washing over you as if she were embracing you for the last time again.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. You opened your eyes, dark wisp falling away from caressing your cheek. For a moment you imagined the touch of your mother's hand warming your cheek.

Azriel sighed as you sunk into his embrace, his presence more frequent the days leading to the equinox. You’d refused to hold him the first few days after you caught the mark on the calendar, afraid your touch would burn him.

Velaris offered a similar bout of weather that reminded you of home. The nights growing longer, colder and you were thankful there was still a little scrap of heritage you could clutch onto.

Your magic however seemed to be like a fizzling firework in the night court. Touch running hot and cold, that you didn’t stand close to your mate for months as you got used to the warmer seasons.

The restraint you’d built since your arrival dulled your flames. You no longer needed to apologise for scorching holes in Azriel’s sleeve or slapping the fiery embers from the fabric a bit too harshly as you tried to it stop marring his skin.

In the beginning he’d gifted you a pair of leather gloves, but that increased the distance between you both. You wondered why the gods had strung you two together in the beginning, everything you were, summoned painful memories for Azriel. The simple action of holding his hand reminded you why, why you needed to cage the flame to offer him a semblance of the same affection he gave to you.

"I have something for you," he said, nose tracing your jaw and pulling you out of your thoughts.

The cold crept in as he slipped away, the winter breeze pushing the stray strands of hair out out of your face. You breathed in, another wave of smokey scents and sweet aromas tipped with oak prickling the warmth beneath your fingertips. Turning around to meet your mate, you took a step back.

In his gloved hands laid a whicker hamper, tartan blanket sticking out of the box. You gasped, adding another step back. No wonder you could smell their scents. "You saw my mother?" Your voice trembled, hands diving into your coat pocket, fists clenching as you tried to expel the overpowering scents that even mingled with his shadows.

He nodded, ever the cool and controlled mate, never raising his voice or moving too fast as if he'd spook a fox in Autumn. "Yes, it's customary to exchange gifts," Azriel said, pulling the blanket out of the hamper and rolling it out on the ground, he stilled. "Isn't it?" His hazel eyes snapped up to yours, shadows freezing under the curve of his wings.

You couldn't fight the smile, nodding down at him kneeling beside the hamper. He patted the space opposite him and that damned tether tugged you closer. "Yes Az, exchanging gifts are customary but I did not get my family any." You didn't see the point, there was no way you'd be able to step in Autumn without dire consequences.

"That's fine, I did." He shrugged, laying a pumpkin pie in front of you, steam curling off the brown pastry.

A tradition in your family to gift handmade presents to each other during the autumn equinox. Your mothers famous, pumpkin pie, honey tea and spiced apples.

"You got gifts for my family?" You asked, scooting closer to Azriel who didn't offer you a glance, his attention on the contents in the hamper. "What did you get my father?" You leant forwards dipping your head and tried catching his gaze. "My father hates you and you gave him gift?"

"I got him a hunting knife." He said it like it was the most logical thing, as if your father would not be thinking of gutting him with it. His shadows seemed to follow your line of thought, a dark wisp pushing you back to sit.

"Is that why you met with my mother instead?" You laughed, even though you wanted to cry at the thought of your mate stepping into autumn for a spec of your happiness and his own demise.

Azriel finally let his gaze fall on you, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. Always searching you before he decided what words to choose. "You're mother actually requested for me." His ears tinged a darker shade, hand scratching the back of his neck.

It was odd to think of your mother with him, you knew she'd be gentle and careful in her approach. Something you thought Azriel didn't receive much of in way of interaction. You also wondered what she thought of your mate, hoping she didn't worry and didn't judge alone from his stony features.

The grey cable knit sweater (the one you'd knit him last year) hugged his muscular arms, bicep flexing at his movement that you forget for a second what he said. A wave of your mother's scent hit you like a whip and brought you back.

"How the Gods does my mother manage to request your presence?"

"Well, she knows a lady in winter, that knows a lady in day and knows..." he trailed off the sentence, stumbling over his words trying to grasp the order of whatever your mother had told him. Trust your mother to use her network of gossips to send word to Velaris in order to find your mate.

"And how many ladies do you know?"

"Many," he smirked leaning in to you, "the only lady that matters is you though." His lips pressed against yours, warmth spreading through your chest as his hand cupped the back of your head and pulled you closer.

You smirked, storing away the memory so that you could show Feyre later and make your mate sweat about his duties to a high lady that didn't matter.

"Smooth, I bet my mother saw right through you." You said, tracing your swollen lips. You leant across Azriel's lap and plucked a ruby red apple from the hamper, teeth sinking into the shiny skin.

"Your mother probably thinks we're an equal match. How many guards did you court till you made it to me?" His lip twitched, fingers pinching your thigh for another swift attack. You swatted him way, squealing as his shadows skimmed the small slip of skin where your top had rode up over your hip.

It were true, you'd worked your way through nearly every division of the autumn army in the hopes of finding someone who wasn't just focused on following the high lords every word. What else were you supposed to do for five hundred years?

"I'd be quiet if I were you, recon I could get a rank higher than you back in autumn.” You swatted the curling wisps out of your face, sending them hissing back to their master.

"I doubt your mother would approve."

You didn’t argue with him on that, knowing that your mother was never fond of any suitor you’d brought home before.

“I take it these are from them?” You asked, lifting a small wooden box out of the hamper. A yellowing envelope stuck to the lid and sealed with red wax. You ripped the letter and scanned over your mother’s cursive writing.

The usual sentimental words she’d say to you around the table whilst you thanked the gods of harvest for giving you all good things and planting new seeds of regrowth and learning. At the very bottom below her signature however was a blurred splotchy mess, as if she’d written it last minute and folded the paper.

I hope this equinox brings you many blessings and offers you new fields to plant your own seeds. May you nurture the connection between you and your fated. My daughter you’ve been blessed, as have I now that I know you will be loved and safe.

Azriel peered over your shoulder, “I think she likes me,” he said, cutting a second piece of pumpkin pie and shoving it in his mouth.

“Just thank the stars you didn’t meet my father.” Now that you were banished from autumn, you doubted that you’d see him again. Too proud of his home to step out of tradition.

He hummed in agreement, pouring a cup of honey tea and setting it down in front of you. The view from the house of wind's balcony was your favourite, always bringing a smile to your face and reminding you that you could find beauty in any court. You did miss Autumn, but Velaris had grown on you, the constant stars blinking in the inky sky each night.

A small fire flickered in a homemade pit, copper bowl keeping it contained. Peeling the overlapping cloth, you traced the knitted mittens. Charcoal grey yarn that looked like liquid mercury woven together with softer orange, the two colours a symbol of your union with Azriel. Picking them up from the box, you slipped them into your pocket, freezing as something dropped out of one the mittens. A dark wisp dove out from its owner and caught the small object.

The shadows held it up and twisted it in front you, a fox figurine carved from wood and painted orange and beige. Tiny brushstrokes imitating fur, looking oddly like the fox you had as a child. A gift from your younger sister, you'd left your other figurines back in Autumn and hated yourself for it ever since. Least you had one now.

Azriel was silent as ever, watching you intently.

"My mother didn't give you anything? I mean I know I am gift enough Az," you said, laughing as he bumped his shoulder to yours.

His head dipped, Shadows concealing his face. "She did, wouldn't let me leave till I finished a pumpkin pie she made. Your sister made me a little fox of my own." Thats when you noticed the tiny wood carved fox pendent on a thin string around his neck, dark ink peeking out underneath it.

"Oh god's Az, don't let your enemies hear you say that. If that's all it takes." And by the looks of it, he'd enjoyed it so much, he was half way through the pumpkin pie from the hamper.

Cool metal met your fingertips as you lifted the cloth again, your reflection staring back at you in the silver blade. "I take it this gift is for both of us," you joked, Azriel picked it up and turned the hilt in his hand. A red stone embedded in the pommel, a scripture you couldn't quite make out on the hilt.

"Hunting knife, a few centuries old," he said glancing at your furrowed brows. "Look the hilts worn, the leather binding it, is coming away. Blade needs sharpening too, must have been in your family for a long time." He passed the knife back, blade pinched between his thumb and pointer finger.

You wrapped it back in the cloth, sandwiching it between the thick layers. "No idea why he'd give me that old thing," you mumbled, slamming the box shut. You were never one to use a knife, more inclined to using your magic and merging it with autumn's fighting techniques.

"No idea, just don't gut me with it in my sleep."

"Never," you gasped. "Just remember good behaviour or its a blunt blade my dear."

Since its nearly autumn equinox I wanted to do some prompts for it :) there's other characters to come - Yiiyii

[whereforarthur]

It's Been Way Too Long

Request: id love a george smut, perhaps one of us have been rlly busy like all summer and barely had any time to see each other so when it gets to september time (ish) we havent realised how much we miss each other

Pairing: George Clarke x Reader

Category: Smut

Word Count: 2.2k

*****

“I think I'd miss you even if we never met.” — The Wedding Date

The London skies were a canvas of soft grays and muted blues, hinting at the promise of rain. The bustling streets below were a blur of umbrellas and rushing footsteps. Amidst the thrum of the city, a solitary figure sat on a bench in a small, overlooked park, a patch of green nestled between concrete giants. George Clarke, known to the internet as "The Clarke Cut", was a man of sharp contrasts. His online persona was vibrant, full of life and humor, but in this quiet moment, he was lost in thought, his eyes reflecting the weight of the world.

For months, George had thrown himself into his work, leaving little room for anything else. His YouTube channel had grown exponentially, the demands of content creation an ever-hungry beast that consumed his days and nights. The price of success had been steep, and he felt the cost keenly as he stared at the empty space next to him, where you, or y/n as he liked to call you, should have been. The vividness of your laughter and the warmth of your smile had been replaced by the cold metal of the bench, and the echoes of the city's cacophony.

The first leaves of autumn began to dance around him, a sad ballet of nature's end and rebirth. The chill in the air seemed to mirror the chill in his heart, a stark reminder of the seasons passing and the time lost. You had been his anchor, a steady presence that kept him grounded amidst the chaos. Without you, the city felt like an alien landscape, one he was navigating for the first time without a map.

George pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. The urge to hear your voice washed over him like a wave, but fear held him back. Would you be upset? Would you even have time to talk? With a sigh, he sent a text, keeping it light, hoping it didn't betray the tumult in his soul. "Missing you," it read, with a simple heart emoji. It was all he could manage.

Minutes ticked by, the silence stretching into a symphony of unspoken words. His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. It was you. "Miss you too, George," it said, followed by a smiling face with a tear. His heart clenched at the sight. You had felt it too, the distance that had grown between them like an invisible wall.

The rain finally made its appearance, lightly kissing the leaves before turning into a steady rhythm against the pavement. George didn't bother moving, the cool drops a soothing balm on his heated skin. The scent of wet earth and the faint smell of rain-soaked flowers filled the air, a familiar comfort that only heightened his longing for your presence.

As the drops grew heavier, his thoughts grew clearer. He knew what he had to do. Success meant nothing if he couldn't share it with the one who truly mattered. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the path ahead. He had to make time for you, to prioritize what truly made him happy. The rain grew into a crescendo, each drop a beat in the rhythm of his newfound resolve.

Standing up, George tucked his phone away and took a deep breath, the rain soaking his clothes and hair. He'd rearrange his schedule, make the calls, and do whatever it took to bridge the gap that had formed. With a renewed sense of purpose, he stepped into the storm, the cold water mixing with the warmth of his determination. The city around him blurred as he set off in the direction of your flat, eager to feel the warmth of your embrace and to apologize for his neglect. The rain washed away the dust of the summer, leaving behind the promise of a fresh start, a chance to rekindle the flame that had been smoldering between them.

By the time he arrived, the rain had become a downpour, turning the streets into rivers and the air into a thick mist. He took the stairs two at a time, his heart racing in anticipation. The door to your flat stood before him, a symbol of the comfort and love that waited within. He took a moment to compose himself, wiping the rain from his face before knocking softly, his breath hitching in his chest.

When the door opened, the sight of you took his breath away. You looked tired, your eyes a bit sad, but the moment they met his, a spark ignited, lighting up the room. The silence stretched between them, filled with the unspoken words of regret and longing. Without a word, George stepped inside, closing the door behind him, the sound echoing through the small space like a declaration of intent.

You stood before him, rain-soaked and beautiful, your hair clinging to your face like a veil. The air was charged with tension, the kind that comes from months of missed moments and unspoken truths. He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek, the touch sending a jolt through both of you. Your eyes searched his, looking for reassurance, for a sign that he truly meant it. And in that moment, George knew that he had made the right choice. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both desperate and gentle, a silent promise to never let you go again.

The kiss grew in intensity, a conflagration of passion that had been smoldering for too long. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, as if trying to erase the space that had grown between you. The world outside the flat disappeared, leaving only the two of you, entwined in a dance of love and apology. The rain outside was now a mere backdrop to the symphony of your hearts beating in unison, a testament to the fact that no matter how busy life got, you two were destined to find your way back to each other.

Breaking the kiss, George whispered, "I'm sorry. I've been so caught up in work, I forgot what's truly important."

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's okay," you murmured, your voice a soft melody that soothed his soul. "I understand. But I missed you. So much."

He cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the stray teardrops. "I missed you too. And I promise, from now on, I'll make more time for us."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I'd like that."

With the storm outside mirroring the tumult in their hearts, George took your hand and led you to the couch. You sat down together, the fabric warm and welcoming against your cold, wet clothes. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and you rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

The sound of the rain grew softer as you talked, sharing stories of the summer's escapades and the moments you'd wished you could have shared. Each word was a thread weaving the fabric of your relationship back together, stronger than before. The warmth of the room began to seep into your bones, chasing away the chill of the rain and the months of separation.

As the conversation lulled, George reached over to the coffee table, picking up a notebook and a pen. He flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the words and doodles that chronicled your life together. "Look," he said, pointing to a page filled with sketches of the two of you in various stages of laughter and love. "I want to fill this book with more memories. Starting now."

A blush crept up your cheeks as you took the notebook from him. The promise in his eyes was more than you could have hoped for. With a shaky hand, you wrote, "September 15th - The day George realized what truly matters."

Underneath, he scribbled, "And the day I came home to you."

*****

The moment was filled with the quiet understanding that sometimes life gets in the way, but true love always finds a path back. The rain outside had slowed to a gentle patter, as if it too knew that the storm had passed and that now was the time for growth and renewal.

George's hand slid down from your cheek to your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He kissed you again, this time with a hunger that had been building for months. Your bodies pressed closer, the warmth of your skin a stark contrast to the cold fabric that separated you. The rain had made the air thick with desire, and you could feel the heat radiating from George's body, his need for you palpable.

Your hands found their way under his shirt, feeling the dampness of his skin and the tautness of his muscles. The sensation sent waves of electricity through you, and you realized just how much you'd missed the simple act of touching him, of feeling his heart race in response to your touch. His hands roamed your body, exploring the curves and valleys that he knew so well, yet somehow felt new and exciting. The rain outside had become a soft, rhythmic backdrop to your reunion, a natural metronome setting the pace of your passion.

As you kissed, you both began to peel away the layers of clothing that had kept you apart, revealing the warmth and desire that had been trapped beneath. Your skin met with a sigh of relief, like two long-lost friends finally reunited. The couch cushions grew soggy with rainwater, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the connection that surged between you, a current more powerful than any storm.

The smell of damp fabric and the gentle scent of your perfume mixed with the musk of passion as you became lost in each other. The storm outside had brought you back together, and now, you were determined to make the most of every moment. The sound of the rain grew fainter as you became more attuned to the sound of your breaths mingling, the beat of your hearts syncing up as one.

George lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom, his eyes never leaving yours. The floorboards creaked underfoot, a gentle reminder of the history you shared in this space. You knew every inch of this room, every crevice and corner, but it had never felt more intimate than it did in that moment.

Laying you down on the bed, he hovered over you, his gaze intense and filled with love. The soft light from the streetlamp painted shadows on the wall, playing across your bodies as you moved together in a dance of passion. The thunder outside rumbled in the distance, punctuating the silent promises made between kisses and caresses.

Your bodies intertwined, the coldness of the rain forgotten in the warmth of your love. The room was filled with the sound of the rain, the sighs of pleasure, and the whispers of sweet nothings that meant everything. The storm outside mirrored the intensity of your reunion, each flash of lightning illuminating the passion in your eyes, as if the very sky was celebrating your reconciliation.

The rain grew softer, the thunder a gentle reminder of the tempest you had weathered. As your bodies found their rhythm, the storm outside seemed to mimic your own, building to a crescendo before subsiding into a gentle lull. You lay there, tangled in the warmth of each other's arms, the city of London a silent witness to your love.

In the aftermath of your passion, you both lay still, listening to the fading patter of rain and the steady thrum of each other's hearts. The world outside had continued to turn, but for a brief moment, it had stopped for you both. You knew that from now on, no matter how busy life got, you would always find time for each other, because you had just survived the storm, and the calm that followed was more beautiful than any summer's day.

You leaned up to kiss him softly, tasting the salt of the rain and the sweetness of your shared love. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice a mere breath against his skin.

George smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "For what?"

"For reminding me what's important," you said, your eyes searching his. "For coming back to me."

He kissed you again, his arms tightening around you. "Always," he murmured, his voice a solemn vow. "I'll always come back to you."

The room was a cocoon of warmth and love, the storm outside a gentle lullaby, as you both drifted off to sleep, the sound of the rain a soothing serenade. Hours passed, the city's heartbeat growing quieter as the night deepened. When you awoke, the rain had stopped, leaving a freshness in the air that seemed to cleanse the very essence of the world. The scent of wet earth and the faint sound of distant cars washed over you, bringing with it a sense of peace.

******

@gvf23

@xxkatxgracexx

[kezzanza]

DON'T STOP CAUSE I'M HALFWAY THERE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The stairs creak softly under his weight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[pickingupmymercedes]

All these little things pt.2 - Lewis Hamilton

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

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

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +3k

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

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

______________________________________________________________

Adventures

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naptime Cuddles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Season Calendar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lewis's eyes softened. "It is."

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

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

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

"Abu Dhabi for the closing ceremony?" she mused, tapping the last race tentatively.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "You're practically attending the entire season, love" he teased with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Y/N looked up, feigning innocence. "Am I? It doesn't seem like that many."

Lewis laughed, shaking his head. "Babe, you've mapped out nearly the whole calendar”

"Well, someone has to support you, champion," she replied, a playful jab disguised by a loving smile. "Plus, there's the cultural immersion, the delicious food, the..."

"The endless supply of post-race champagne?" he finished her sentence, a knowing grin on his face.

Y/N winked. "There might be some of that too."

Tough Race

The air in the motorhome hung heavy, a stark contrast to the usual pre-race buzz. Lewis sat slumped on the plush couch, his helmet resting dejectedly on the coffee table. The screen of his phone displayed the stark reality – a disappointing qualifying position and a car that no one understood.

Y/N watched him from across the room, her heart heavy with empathy. She knew Lewis thrived on competition, on pushing himself to the limit. Seeing him so dispirited was a sight that tugged at her soul.

Placing her laptop aside, she walked over to him. Without a word, she sat beside him on the couch, her hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders. He flinched slightly at the touch, as if startled from his introspection.

"Tough day, huh?" she asked softly, her voice barely a whisper.

He sighed; the sound heavy with disappointment. "Yeah," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. "Just feels like everything's going wrong."

Y/N remained silent, allowing him to express his frustration without words. She knew that sometimes, the most comforting thing was a quiet presence, a silent acknowledgment of his struggle. After a moment, he lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. They held a vulnerability she rarely saw, a glimpse of the man beneath the champion's mask.

"Come here" she said gently, opening her arms for him to fall into. He leaned closer, his head resting on her chest. Instinctively, her fingers reached for his scalp, their gentle pressure working their way through his braids. It was a routine they'd developed over the years, a silent language of love and support.

As her fingers began a soothing massage, kneading away tension at the base of his skull, a soft sigh escaped Lewis's lips. His muscles, which had been coiled tight with frustration, started to relax under her touch.

"You have the talent, Lewis," she began, her voice barely louder than a whisper but filled with warmth "You have the dedication. This is just a bump in the road."

They sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the rhythmic hum of the motorhome and the gentle ministrations of her hands. Slowly, a spark of his usual fire began to return to his eyes.

"Next year can’t come soon enough" he finally murmured, his voice regaining its strength. "I’ll be the one in red waiting for you” her lips close to his ears, attesting to her loyalty to him.

Workouts

Sweat beaded on Y/N's forehead, blurring her vision slightly as she pounded the treadmill. The rhythmic thump of her feet echoed in the home gym, the only sound competing with the pulsing techno beat blasting through her headphones. She was lost in the zone, pushing herself further with each passing minute. Today's run was all about endurance, a long, slow burn to build her stamina.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She glanced over, momentarily breaking her focus, to see Lewis bent over a weight bench, curls glinting in the afternoon sun streaming through the window. He was shirtless, his muscles flexing with each controlled rep.

Y/N looked away, forcing her gaze back to the treadmill display. “Great”, she thought, cheeks burning. “Now you're distracted.” She tried to refocus on her breathing, on the rhythm of her run, but the image of Lewis, sculpted and confident, kept intruding on her thoughts.

A mischievous glint entered Lewis's eyes. He knew he had her attention, even if she wouldn't admit it. With a slow, deliberate movement, he placed the dumbbells down and reached for the hem of his workout shirt. A slow peel, a suggestive glance thrown in Y/N's direction, and the shirt landed discarded on the floor.

Y/N let out a groan of frustration, more with herself than anything else. This was supposed to be a focused workout, not a session in ogling her impossibly attractive boyfriend. She cranked up the volume on her headphones, willing herself to ignore the blatant display happening across the room.

But Lewis wasn't done yet. He sauntered closer to the treadmill, a playful grin on his face. "Need anything?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Y/N gritted her teeth, refusing to make eye contact. "Nope, all good here" she mumbled, her voice strained.

Lewis chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Alright, but if you do, I’ll be right here" he teased, leaning against the treadmill console, effectively blocking her view of the television and forcing her to acknowledge his presence.

Y/N glared at him, a flicker of amusement battling with her annoyance. "Seriously? I'm trying to work out here."

"And I'm trying to offer some motivation," he countered, his eyes twinkling. A small smile tugged at the corner of Y/N's lips. "Fine," she conceded, a playful challenge in her voice. "If you're so good at motivating, why don't you join me for a run?"

Lewis's grin widened. " Was just waiting for you to ask."

Grocery Shopping

Jet lag, like an unwelcome koala clinging to their luggage, had followed Y/N and Lewis all the way from Europe to Australia.

Yawns punctuated the silence as they stood in the brightly lit grocery store aisle, their usual meticulous list forgotten somewhere in their luggage.

"Alright," Lewis announced, rubbing his eyes "Essentials: Bread, milk, some fruit..."

Y/N's stomach rumbled loudly, betraying her fatigue. " chocolate… " she mumbled, grabbing the first bar her hand encountered, a garishly pink confection with a name that promised "explosive berry flavor".

Lewis chuckled. "Y/N, love. Maybe we prioritize some greens? " He reached for a bag of pre-washed salad mix.

"Fine." she conceded with a sigh, "But we're getting ice cream. My brain cells need a sugar rush."

He shook his head fondly, adding a carton of plant-based milk to the basket. "Alright, sugar monster."

Y/N scanned the shelves, her eyes landing on a display of colorful cocktail umbrellas. " Lewis" she said, her voice tinged with mischief "think these would look good on an Almave cocktail?"

Lewis raised an eyebrow as she shrugged, a playful smile on her lips. "Just planning ahead"

Alright" he conceded, tossing a pack of the umbrellas into the basket. " Healthy stuff now, babe. We need to get through the week"

Y/N groaned dramatically. "Ugh. Let me get some of those roasted chickpeas they have by the checkout, at least. They're practically healthy, right?"

Lewis laughed, pulling her close for a quick kiss as she reached for some sort of processed sugar. "Roasted chickpeas it is."

Weird dreams

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, painting golden stripes across the bedroom floor. Y/N stretched luxuriously, the remnants of a strange dream clinging to the edges of her consciousness.

"Lew" she mumbled, reaching for him on the other side of the bed. His side was cold, the sheets neatly pulled back. She sat up, a frown creasing her brow. "Lewis?" she called out a little louder.

He emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hip, a face cream in his hand. "Morning, love" he greeted with a sleepy smile.

"Good morning" Y/N replied, her voice laced with a hint of confusion. "You were gone?" She gestured to the empty space beside her.

He paused, a puzzled look replacing his smile. "Gone? I haven't left the bed all night."

"Oh" Y/N said, feeling a wave of disorientation. "Must have been the dream then."

Lewis raised an eyebrow. " What kind of dream?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment, the strangeness of it all making her smile. "Well," she began, "It was the weirdest thing. We were both at the factory, but you were giving a motivational speech... to a room full of chickens."

Lewis burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the room as he doubled over, wiping tears from his eyes.

Y/N couldn't help but join in his laughter, the absurdity of the dream washing away the lingering confusion. As they lay back down in bed, Lewis pulled her close, y/n laying her head on his chest.

"So," Lewis said, his voice tinged with amusement "what motivational speech did I give to the chickens?"

Y/N snuggled closer, a playful glint in her eyes. "Oh, you know, the usual," she said, her voice laced with laughter. "Conquer the coop, dream big, peck your way to the top."

Lewis chuckled, nuzzling his face into her hair. "Sounds like something I’d say"

Y/N swatted him playfully on the arm. "Hey, maybe even chickens need a little inspiration sometimes.” a smile playing on her lips and he squeezed her softly.

Sickness

A crumpled ball of tissues lay discarded beside Y/N on the couch, a relentless battle she'd been waging with a head cold all morning. Her throat felt like sandpaper, and her entire body ached with a dull misery. Across from her, Lewis, usually thinking of what to do next, sat slumped on the armchair, a mug of lukewarm tea clutched in his hand.

"Alright," Lewis declared, pushing himself up from the chair with a grimace, "I'm going to tackle those emails. You just relax on the couch some more."

Y/N croaked out a protest. "Lewis, you look like you could use the couch more than me. Those dark circle under your eyes look awful.

He swiped a hand across his forehead, a frown creasing his brow. "Nothing to worry, love. Probably just didn’t get enough sleep."

Y/N sighed, a weary smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Ever the workaholic, even a mild illness couldn't keep him from his commitments. "Alright" she conceded, her voice hoarse, "but promise me you'll rest too?”

He flashed a reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course, lovely." He retreated to his office, leaving Y/N alone with the sniffles and the blaring silence of the weekend they'd both been looking forward to.

She tried to sleep, to watch tv, to lose herself in a book, but her eyes burned in their sockets. Frustrated, she finally reached for the thermometer. The red mercury climbing far too high for comfort.

Panic clawed at her throat. Lewis couldn't be getting sick too, not with his packed schedule for the next two months. Steeling herself, she pushed off the couch and made her way to the office. Lewis sat hunched over his laptop, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Lew" she said softly, her voice thick with concern.

He looked up, startled. The feverish flush on his cheeks was undeniable now.

"What’s up babe?" he mumbled, his voice raspy

"You're burning up," she declared, placing a hand on his forehead. "We both are."

He let out a shaky sigh, finally acknowledging the truth. "This is the worst timing." he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Y/N hugged his shoulders from behind his desk chair, her heart softening at his dejection. "All we can do is focusing on getting better" she said gently.

Lewis turned to look at her, his eyes filled with a grateful vulnerability. "Yeah" he conceded, a tired smile gracing his lips. "Let’s go back to bed then, we're watching all the cheesy rom-coms we can handle.”

Y/N laughed a bit before suddenly turning her head to the side to sneeze, a chuckle coming from Lewis as he got up and embraced her. "Deal" she finally agreed.

Morning rituals

A faint sunlight danced playfully across the open space of the kitchen; Lewis’ heavy steps caught y/n attention as the aroma of brewing coffee gently invited him to greet the day. A soft groan escaped his lips as he stretched, muscles protesting.

"Rough night, champ?" A voice, laced with amusement, drifted in from the kitchen. Lewis cracked open an eye mid-stretch to see Y/n leaning against the island, a steaming mug in hand.

"Just a bit" he admitted, a smile tugging at his lips as he flopped down on the sofa "That car is giving me a real workout."

Y/n chuckled, padding across the room and placing the mug on the coffee table "Well, here’s some fuel." She leaned down, brushing a kiss across his forehead, the scent of her minty shampoo lingering in the air.

Lewis inhaled deeply, the familiar scent a welcome comfort. He reached out, his hand landing on hers. "You shouldn't have gotten up so early" he mumbled, squeezing her fingers gently.

"Nah" Y/n replied, settling onto his lap "Early mornings are my secret weapon. Peace and quiet before the world wakes up."

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "You mean to tell me Roscoe snoring and the fog outside are your weapons?"

Y/n laughed, caressing his beard. "It might not be perfect, but it’s mine."

A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the soft clinking of mugs against the table’s glass. Lewis took a sip of his coffee, savoring the warmth that spread through him.

"So," Y/n began, a thoughtful look on her face as she slid to the sofa and rested her head on his shoulders "what's on the agenda for today?"

Lewis set down his mug. "Just some online meetings with the engineers in the afternoon. We can have a lazy morning if you’re not busy" his hopeful tone hung in the air for a beat too long.

Y/n took a slow sip from her mug, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Actually," she said, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "I woke up feeling surprisingly productive. Maybe I'll finally tackle that mountain of emails I've been putting off." A flicker of disappointment crossed Lewis' face, until he realized what y/n had actually just said, quickly stamping a playful smirk and a light grab of her ass. "The hell you are."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Missing You | Lucien x Reader

Summary: After coming back home from a long trip to Autumn Court due to his emissary duties, Lucien is exhausted, but still more than willing for whatever touch you’ll give him.

Word Count: ~ 1.3k

Warnings: Lucien’s bad relationship w Eris, smut but like…comfort smut? is that a thing? p in v, sub lulu, yknow

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: I have not been feeding y’all good😔 so here’s a lucien fic since we all know he’s the best character in acotar hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

As the somewhat-official emissary of Night Court, there were things Lucien had to handle.

Such as the impossibly long mission he’d been sent on, an excursion to Autumn, to get reassurances that everything was running smoothly with Eris installed as the newest High Lord following a few recent riots and whatnot. The visit had been…awkward, to say the least, considering how Lucien wasn’t the closest with his elder brother.

Things were getting better between them. Slowly, but surely.

As soon as he was back in Velaris, the report he knew he should go give Rhysand be damned, he stumbled to the door of the home you two had, a simple, but warm and cozy one. Fitting for you, he always thought.

It was late then, he could hear the chirping of the nighttime bugs of Velaris, the birds quietly cawing before settling down. The moon was out tonight, in its waning stage. Clouds aimlessly drifted past in the midnight sky, and as soon as he had taken one step through the dod frame, he felt a small warm form collide with his body as you threw your arms around his neck.

“Gods, I missed you.”

You murmured into his ear, and he smiled softly, arms loosely embracing you back. And then he was suddenly all too aware of the grime and sweat soaking him from the journey home, the sleepless nights, and his anxieties.

“I know, love, but I need to take a shower.”

He relied in an almost apologetic tone, giving a small kiss on the forehead to you, before pulling out of the embrace even when you whined and pouted at him.

“Alone?”

You asked, giving him a pleading look. He sighed and nodded. Even after being alone in Autumn for so long, he needed time to decompress in a safe space, which was here. As much as you hated separating from him, you mumbled a little “okay” before he left to enter the bathroom.

*********************************************************

You had seen the exhaustion in his body language, the way his shoulders caved in, weighed down. Or how he hadn’t even noticed the dinner set out on the table, one that you’d specially made for him.

You couldn’t blame him for it, though. He hadn’t known, you told yourself as you slid the food into glass containers for tomorrow, how long you’d spent on it. And you couldn’t bear to be angry at him right now, when he’d been away so long, and had to be around his older brother as well. He’d slowly opened up about the problems between the two of them, the gap that never seemed to fill.

You felt bad for him, truly, but there wasn’t much you could do to comfort him other than give him space and be there when he needed you.

The sounds of the shower started up, water flowing down and hitting the bottom of the tub. Every second of that shower felt like an eternity because even though you knew he needed a little time to himself, you just wanted to hold him impossibly close and feel every inch of him and remember that this was real, that he was here and back.

Still caught up in your thoughts, you put up the now-packaged food and turned the kitchen lights off, walking quietly into your shared bedroom, and slipping your clothes off to don a thin, cotton nightgown. The material was always just lightweight enough to be breathable for your skin.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, before moving under the covers, shuffling around a bit to get comfortable and stretch the tension out of your body.

Not long after, your eyes began feeling heavy as you blinked, and the shower stopped, before Lucien stepped out of the bathroom, a towel hanging loosely around his waist. If the earlier signs that he was tired weren’t enough, the fact that he didn’t even go through with his skincare or haircare routine tonight showed it clearly. He was usually so strict about it, the specific serums and oils, his hair masks and hydration, honestly sometimes it seemed more like he was speaking a different language when he tried to explain it.

But you liked hearing him talk about things he was invested in.

“Luci..”

You mumbled, sitting up slowly and rubbing your eyes. He only barely pulled some boxers on before collapsing into the bed beside you, one arm trying to pull you close. He sighed deeply, inhaling as much of your scent as he could when you moved closer.

“Missed this,”

He mumbled, looking like he was in a daze. Your hands began gently roaming his skin, beginning with his shoulders, rubbing the tension out of them as best as you could. The angle you were at currently wasn’t too great for it, though, so you shifted to where you were almost straddling him, your body lying above his limp one.

“Careful, I’m-“

The words died in his throat as he let out a breathy groan when you hit a particularly stiff spot. You leaned down slightly, letting your lips brush against his jaw, before starting a light trail down his golden-tanned skin. Every little inch of him received your kisses, his biceps, his abdomen, his legs, face, then you were at his inner thigh, gently rubbing the skin as his breathing turned to little pants.

You hooked a finger on the edge of his boxers, slowly tugging them down as you continued your exploration, all the way down to his cock. It was half-hard, and every tiny movement you made anywhere near it made it twitch. Your tongue darted out to give a little lick, at which Lucien whimpered, and then it was throbbing. Your hand snuck up your nightgown, pushing your panties aside as you began slipping fingers in, stretching and rubbing.

“Lulu,”

You cooed softly, a nickname you’d made for him long ago, and even to this day you swore the tips of his ears turned a light shade of pink when you used it. He sniffled, looking down at you with what almost looked like a pout. Sure, you’d seen him submissive before, but never just so utterly defeated and whiny.

“Please.”

He whispered, hips trying and failing to buck up, his body failing him. You gave a little lick again to his length, before you let your fingers slip out of you, and slid up a bit against his body. As soon as he saw your glistening fingers, his mouth was open and inviting, and you didn’t deny him any longer, letting his deft tongue lick and suck the slick from your fingers. His eyes rolled back in his head, growing slightly glazed over with lust.

You shifted a bit more, pulling your fingers away, only to gently wrap that hand around his dick, managing to pull a light gasp out of him from it, as you slowly sunk onto him. He whimpered and groaned, body near trembling as you suffered the slightly painful stretch.

When he was finally, finally all the way in, you let out a ragged sigh of relief, leaning down to lay against his chest, arms folding easily around him. He buried his face in the nook of your shoulder, hips barely able to move other than the tiniest bit of rocking back and forth. It was barely perceptible, but more than enough for the both of you.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you remained like that, hips barely rocking back and forth until you came undone around him with little more than a moan, and he spilled into you with a whimper. Tonight wasn’t the night for hard, demanding sex. Sometimes you both just needed something comfortable and soothing, while both were able to feel each other.

He eventually drifted off to sleep, breathing and falling into a deep rhythm, and you were soon to join him.

[doodle-pops]

T’was The Night of Autumn

Celebrimbor x modern!reader

A/N: I realised that I don’t post many Celebrimbor content and that needs to change. So, here’s something to enjoy your cozy autumn.

Warnings: none, all fluff

Words: 1.9k

Synopsis: As autumn finally rolled in, you decided to teach Tyelpë a tradition from your modern world, one that involves pumpkins and crafting.

The autumn season had arrived in Eregion, and with it came a crispness in the air that whispered of change. The leaves on the trees had turned rich shades of gold and orange, carpeting the streets with their vibrant hues. The scent of the season, a mix of damp earth and woodsmoke, hung in the air, reminding you of home. It was the kind of day that made you miss the simple pleasures of your world—hot drinks, the sound of crunching leaves underfoot, and, of course, pumpkin carving. Despite being in Middle-earth, so far removed from the modern world you had come from, there was something about autumn that felt familiar—comforting, even.

Today, Celebrimbor had a rare moment of respite from his duties, and you had been thinking about how to make the most of it, wanting to share something from your world with him. After all, autumn wasn’t just about the changing of the leaves. It was about warmth, cosiness, and most of all, traditions. And there was one tradition in particular you were eager to introduce him to.

“Tyelpë,” you called softly, using his Quenya name. He glanced up from his book, his sharp, grey eyes softening when they met yours.

“Yes?” he responded, removing his focus from the book he was invested in.

“I think you’ve spent enough time reading and cooped up in the library for today,” you said, stepping into the room and crossing over to him. “It’s autumn, after all. There’s something I want to show you.”

His brow arched in curiosity. “What is it?”

Smiling, you took his hand and led him out of the library, into the courtyard. “Just trust me,” you said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s a tradition from my world. Something we do every year during this season.”

Curiosity piqued—Celebrimbor followed you out to the courtyard where two large, round pumpkins sat waiting. You had found it in the market earlier that day, marvelling at how similar it was to the ones from home. And now, as the golden light of the late afternoon bathed the scene in warmth, you felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you.

“What is that?” Celebrimbor asked, eyeing the pumpkin with a mix of amusement and confusion.

“It’s a pumpkin,” you replied, grinning up at him.

Sighing with a bit of sass, he rolled his eyes nonchalantly. “I know that it’s a pumpkin. But what I meant was the purpose of it.”

“Pumpkin carving!” you cheered.

“Pumpkin carving?” Celebrimbor’s voice was rich with curiosity and a hint of amusement, as he approached to two, medium-sized orange fruit sitting on the table.

“Yes!” you replied, turning to face him with your excitement growing by the second. “It’s something we do back in my world during this season. It’s part of a tradition called Halloween. We carve faces into pumpkins, light them up with candles, and make all sorts of fun autumn-themed treats. I thought it might be fun to try it together.”

Leaning closer to inspect the pumpkins while you spoke, he smiled from the sheer enthusiasm you expressed for the love of this festive seasonal tradition. “I’ve heard you mention this Halloween before,” he said thoughtfully. “A festival for warding off spirits and celebrating the harvest, correct?”

You nodded, grinning. “Exactly. But it’s also about having fun. You get to be creative, and it’s a great way to embrace the season.”

“It sounds…whimsical. Very different from the customs of our people,” he murmured under low. “But if it involves creativity, I imagine it’s not too different from sculpting or forging. But I must warn you, if this pumpkin carving involves skill, you might be at a disadvantage.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him, laughing. “Oh, come on, I’m not that bad. Besides, you’re the one who's never carved a pumpkin before. I might surprise you.”

Throwing an almost invisible competitive smirk at you, he chuckled. “We’ll see about that. But first, would you might showing me how it is performed?”

You handed him one of the knives, explaining how to cut the top off the pumpkin and scoop out the insides while he watched you closely as you demonstrated, his eyes intent on the task at hand. Once you were finished, he took his knife, his movements precise and steady as he made the first cut into his much larger and clearly better suited pumpkin, for carving.

“I have to admit,” he said, as he carefully removed the top of the pumpkin, “I’ve never worked with a medium like this before.”

You grinned as you passed him a spoon to scoop out the guts and seeds. “It’s a bit different from metal and stone, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Quite different. Though I can’t say this is how I imagined spending my day—it’s strangely satisfying.” He took the spoon from you, his lips quirking with amusement as he began to dig into the pumpkin. His movements were careful and precise—of course, they were, he was Celebrimbor, grandson of Fëanor. His entire life had been spent mastering delicate and intricate work. And yet, the sight of him here, elbow-deep in pumpkin guts, was oddly endearing.

As he worked, you scooped out the seeds and pulp from inside your pumpkin, explaining how in your world, people often roasted the seeds as a snack. And Celebrimbor seemed fascinated by the simplicity of it all, so different from the more elaborate customs of Middle-earth.

“And now, here is where the true fun begins.” You were bouncing on your toes as you passed him a smaller carving knife. “Time for us to start carving the faces. You can make it as simple or as detailed as you like.”

Celebrimbor’s eyes gleamed with interest. “A face, you say? I think I can manage that.”

You handed him a smaller knife and explained how to cut out a simple face—triangular eyes, a jagged smile. You decided to keep it straightforward for now, not wanting to overwhelm him. But as you suspected, Celebrimbor was a natural. You watched in awe as his skilled hands moved swiftly, the knife gliding through the pumpkin with ease. Despite his initial unfamiliarity with the task, his natural talent shone through. Within minutes, he had carved an intricate, detailed face into the pumpkin, far more elaborate than anything you had ever managed.

“Well,” you said, standing back to admire his work, “I think it’s safe to say that you’ve won this round, which is unfair.”

He looked up at you, a teasing smile playing on his lips, one that was rarely seen at all—symbolising his comfort and enjoyment. “Won? Was this a competition?”

Nudging him playfully, you laughed. “Everything’s a competition with you, Tyelpë. But yes, I admit defeat. Your pumpkin is perfect.”

He tilted his head, studying the pumpkin with a critical eye. “I wouldn’t say perfect. There’s always room for improvement.”

“Perfectionist,” you muttered under your breath, earning another soft chuckle from him.

“Now it’s your turn,” he said, handing you the knife with a flourish. “Let’s see what you can do.”

As you took the knife, not missing an opportunity to roll your eyes good-naturedly, you warned him. “Alright, but don’t laugh. I’m not a master craftsman like you.” As you began carving, Celebrimbor watched you with quiet amusement. Every so often, he would offer a word of advice or point out a better way to approach the task, but for the most part, he let you work in peace. When you finished, your pumpkin was far simpler than his—a goofy, crooked smile and triangle eyes that reminded you of the ones you used to carve as a child.

“Well?” you asked, stepping back to examine your handiwork. “What do you think?”

“Um…” his voice trailed off as he angled his head differently to capture the image of the face you carved, not wanting to leave you under the impression that it could do with a few touch ups…and more—typical artesian behaviour. “Do you…I can help in some areas…”

Your brown immediately shut up to defeat your artistic work. “Oh, what now? Is it not as artistic as yours even though you offered advice?”

“Oh, no, no, no. It’s um…artistic indeed, but just need a bit of…enhancement,” he sheepishly said with his hands up in defence.

“Ha, ha,” you dryly laughed and morphed your face to match the one on your pumpkin. “You can fix it, but just this once.”

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon carving, laughing, and teasing each other about your respective pumpkins. Celebrimbor’s, of course, ended up looking like a work of art, while yours was more endearing in its imperfection. Still, you didn’t mind. The real joy came from sharing the experience with him—watching his face light up with each new detail, hearing the soft chuckles that escaped him when he struggled with a particularly tricky cut. It felt nice to see him stress-free since your arrival at Eregion. All your memories of him hunched over the anvil or some blueprint faded into mist upon his carefree laughter and smile.

You know such a simple act could appear that beautiful, nor did you understand why people labelled him as tempestuous and dangerous. He was quite the opposite.

As the sun began to set and the courtyard grew darker, you lit candles and placed them inside the pumpkins. The warm glow filled the small area, casting flickering shadows across the table, displaying your handiwork.

“I have to say,” Celebrimbor mused, “this Halloween tradition is rather pleasant. I can see why you enjoy it.”

You smiled, leaning into him as he bumped his arm into your shoulder. “It’s one of my favourites. And now you’ve got a pretty good handle on it, too.”

Turning to him with your heart swelling with emotion. “It means a lot to me, too,” you said softly. “Being here in Middle-earth, so far from everything I knew…it’s hard sometimes. But sharing things like this, it makes me feel like I’ve brought a little piece of home with me.”

Celebrimbor’s expression softened, his silver-grey eyes full of understanding. “I will always strive to make you feel at home here, no matter the distance between this world and yours.”

“Thank you, Tyelpë,” you whispered.

As the two of you stood there for a long moment, the flickering candlelight casting a soft glow over the room, you relaxed with the slight chill of the autumn breeze. You knew he wasn’t a person of many words, even though you had wiggled your way unexpectedly into his life, bringing minor changes, you understood through the silence that he reciprocated your thanks.

“Now,” Celebrimbor said, breaking the silence with a teasing smile, “you mentioned something about autumn-themed foods. I believe you owe me a taste of these seasonal treats from your world, and I hope they also involve drinks.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got just a few things in mind. But you might have to help me make it.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “If it’s anything like the pumpkin carving, I think you’ll find I’m quite capable.”

“Confident, are we?” you teased, heading toward the kitchen. “Let’s see if that holds up when we start baking and brewing.”

Masterlist

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[ginxyy]

A love like ours

My soulmate Mingyu

From the very first moment I laid eyes on Mingyu, something sparked within my heart a spark that turned into an inferno, enveloping every part of my being. I still remember the day when he casually strolled into the practice room, flashing that dimpled smile that could melt the coldest of hearts. It was as if the world around me faded, leaving just the two of us: him, with his laughter echoing through the room, and me, entranced by the joy he brought into the ordinary.

Over time, the practice sessions morphed into something that felt like a beautiful dance, one that flowed seamlessly between us. Our late-night rehearsals turned into cozy chats filled with dreams, hopes, and countless shared laughs. Mingyu had an uncanny ability to make even the most mundane moments feel special. Simple things like stretching side by side or sharing a post-practice snack became memories I held onto dear tender treasures, wrapped in the warmth of his presence.

One evening, after an especially grueling rehearsal, we found ourselves sitting atop the rooftop of the company building, the city sprawled out beneath us like a glittering canvas. The stars twinkled above, indifferent to the way my heart raced every time Mingyu was near. It was in those moments that I realized the gravity of my feelings. His fingers brushed against mine as he shared stories about his childhood, his voice smooth and comforting, igniting a sense of familiarity that made my heart soar.

"Mingyu, do you ever think about love?" I asked, my heart fluttering with the weight of the question. He turned to me, his eyes wide and curious, as if I had suddenly thrust him into a poetic universe he had yet to explore.

"Love? Of course. It’s what inspires the best songs, don’t you think?" He replied, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his gaze. "But I’m more interested in the kind of love that makes you feel alive.”

I shivered at his words, the sincerity behind them wrapping around me like a soft embrace. Little did he know, I had already tasted that kind of love one that thrummed beneath every moment we spent together. I just needed him to see it too.

Days melted into weeks, each one layered with the sweetness of our budding romance. Our bond, strengthened by laughter and love, created a world where we could exist outside the spotlight. I still remember the chilly autumn evening when Mingyu introduced me to his love for cooking. Seeing his concentrated face as he chopped vegetables was endearing, and I couldn’t help but burst into laughter, admiring his fierce dedication.

“Just wait and see! I’m going to make you the best kimchi jjigae you’ve ever tasted!” he exclaimed with an exaggerated confidence that sent me into fits of giggles.

As he cooked, the kitchen filled with the mouth-watering aroma of simmering broth and spices, but what truly filled my heart was watching him. The way he poured his heart into every ingredient mirrored how he poured love into our relationship, making the mundane beautiful.

When the dish was finally served, I took a tentative bite and was instantly transported to a place of pure bliss. “Mingyu, this is incredible!” I gasped, surprised by how flavorful it was.

“Really?” He beamed, that mega-watt smile illuminating the entire kitchen. “I knew you’d love it! I made it just for you.”

That evening, as we dulled the kitchen lights and leaned against the counter, our fingers laced together, I felt a sense of completeness. Every laugh, every gentle touch ignited a fire that flickered softly between us. In those quiet moments, I swore I could hear the universe whispering our love story, a tale crafted meticulously by the cosmos.

One afternoon, we found ourselves wandering through a sun-kissed park. The autumn leaves danced around us while Mingyu playfully tossed them into the air. Watching him, I realized how effortlessly he radiated happiness, and it made me want to cradle him in that joy, to protect it for eternity.

“Mingyu,” I called out, a smile spreading across my face as we played in the fallen leaves. He turned, a curious look on his face. “What’s your favorite memory?”

He paused, contemplative, and then turned serious as he took my hands in his. “Honestly? My favorite memory is every moment spent with you. Each one feels like a beautiful gift.”

His words hung in the air, wrapping around us in warmth, and at that moment, surrounded by the leaves, laughter, and the beauty of nature, I knew. I fell even deeper for him, that indescribable feeling encasing my heart like the softest, most exquisite blanket.

As the days turned into months, our love blossomed like flowers in spring. I would watch Mingyu while he penned lyrics late at night, his brow furrowed in concentration, and my heart would swell with admiration. There was something undeniably beautiful about watching him pour his soul into his art.

One night, I quietly snuggled next to him as he scribbled furiously in his notebook. I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth radiate from him, and I thought, "This is love." His fingers brushed against my hair, a simple act that sent shivers down my spine, igniting a warmth that burned brightly in the depths of my heart.

“Mingyu?” I whispered, breaking the silence that filled the room.

“Yeah?” He looked up, his eyes softening at the sight of me.

“Will you keep writing songs about us?”

His lips curled into a mischievous grin. “As long as you keep inspiring me to write them.”

It was those sweet, gentle exchanges, the soft glances filled with admiration, and the warmth of his presence that made my heart swell. In this whirlwind romance with Mingyu, I found a sanctuary where love thrived a place where sweet memories sprouted like flowers, blooming forever in the garden of our hearts.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of pink and orange across the sky, we sat together a picture of love, laughter, and sweet moments shared knowing that our story was just beginning. Every adventure, every embrace, every whispered secret sealed us closer together, weaving a narrative as endless as the stars above us. With Mingyu, I discovered not only love but an everlasting friendship that would forever hold a special place in my heart. And in this dance of ours, I realized one undeniable truth: we were meant to be.

[tremsing82]

ACOTAR Future Families Headcanons

Ok I have few fun family headcanons for the acotar ships. (Disclaimer: I am not an fanfic author/writer so none of this will ever show up in a fanfic, I just like to create characters for headcanons, if anyone wants to use any of this for a story your more than welcome to do so just tag me so I can read it please 🙏😊😊😊🙏)

Feysand: they obviously have Nyx. I think they will definitely have 1 more and it will be a little girl. I also expect her name to be Stella (Star). (Personally I was expecting Nyx to be named Noctis and that their daughter would get the name Nyx since Nyx is actually the name of the Goddess of Night.)

Nessian: I am 100% committed to Cassian being a girl dad. My headcanon is that they have 4 girls. All with beautiful untouched wings. All who have embraced their Illyrian Valkyrie warrior training but also love fashion and formal events. I have this funny snippet that lives rent free in my head of Cassian proudly yelling at someone saying “My 10yr old daughter can kick your ass while wearing a tutu.” I think all their names will begin with the letter C: Cassandra(Cassie) Nesta surprised him with this name, Corine(Corie), Calista(Callie), Camille (Camie).

I do have this idea that Nesta and Cassian start their family journey off with them adopted an orphan/abandoned Illyrian baby girl that Cassian found and brought home to get her medical help and to just nurse back to health. Nesta sees him holding this crying baby trying to get her to eat from the bottle the healer gave him and she just melts for them both. And this baby is Cassandra.

Gwynriel: they had twins, boy girl twins. The girl was named after Gwyn Sister Catrin. And the boy’s name is Haden with his nickname being Hades (this is a guilty pleasure name for me, I have wanted to name a character this for years it even was a name on my boy baby name list). If though they want to stick closer to his name being similar to his sisters though, the boy version of Catrin is Cayson/Kasen/Cason (let me also add Kasen is my sons name so I am slightly bias in the boys names for this one).

Elucien: my favorite ship by the way. And yet I headcanon that they have 1 child, a son. I know crazy 😜. I have 2 reason for this 1) I like to think they like to keep their life simple. 2) I think they struggled to get pregnant. Their son is one of the youngest of the cousins, and he is highly cherished by his parents and family.

Their son’s name is Renard. Renard is French for Fox and Reinhard is German for Brave/Strong Council, which I think perfectly represents a child of Lucien and Elain. His nickname is Ren, I love it so much 🥰🥰🥰

He comes off as shy and definitely likes to clutch at his mother skirts when they first arrive at places. He is the quietest of ALL the cousins, lol (including Eris’ kids). But he’s observant and inquisitive and can be intrigued/curious. He likes to bake and garden with his mother, plays chess and work with his spell cleaving magic with his father and grandfather, go on hikes with his father and uncle where he learns about tracking and living off the land, he loves to read books, he loves to paint and draw, and he likes the piano. He literally is the little chameleon of the family, he see what interests other people and absorbs all their knowledge and collects it to try for himself. He’s been a little cautious around Uncle Cassian because Uncle Cassian was super excited to have another Nephew and tried to treat him like Nyx and Hades and that’s just not the kind of kid Ren is. Ren is closest to Nesta and Cassian’s youngest daughter Camille though. Camie is usually the bull in a China shop but with Ren she will slow down and let him show her what he is reading or drawing or teach her a new piece on the piano.

Eris: Eris is my other girl dad. He has 5 girls, which are nicknamed the Autumn Vixens when they get older. Him and Cassian are in a silent competition about who is the better girl dad, Eris beat Cassian recently by being able to do better girls hair styles. I am leaning towards their names being French inspired: Reine, Sophie & Sylvie (twins), Colette, and Elise.

Vassian: Vassa is an all boys mom. She has 6 boys and on her 7th pregnancy it’s finally girl.

[cigarettesaftersae]

Homesick 02

Sae Itoshi - 02 Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans - John Lennon

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Series: sae x f!reader | childhoodlovers!au

Stuck in a small town near the coast with a previous crush on a boy who returns after years

live laugh love life is strange🗣️imagine the camera is like max's because why not

After a small balanced breakfast, you head out the cafe to walk in the central park. Autumn colored leaves ravished the earthly ground, each step consist of crunches, and you fought the instinct to just stop and stare at everything gifted from Autumn to admire. You reached yourself to a bench, pulling out an old instant camera for scenery. You liked the vintage items, to swim in its own nostalgic aesthetic you’d seemed be fond of. The polaroid printed out embracing the trees and autumn leaves in view. The background painted the morning foggy blue sky, the lamps along the sideways warmly lit, and a squirrel eating nuts. That was your favorite thing in the photo, you smile softly looking at it and put it away in your bag for safety.

You were never an expert on cameras and photography, but you found it in the old treasure of your grandparents’ stash. Using it for these few weeks made life seem more admirable. You had an urge to take a physical copy of the moments you find unique. An instant click for an instant image of every pretty scenery you saw. You continue to take photos around the park, taking in the beauty of a moth on a tree. Its patterns looked perfectly so like the tree. The wooden bark similar to a fingerprint right onto the wings of a small life creature. Around the place, you thrill in its beauty by a single click here and there, ending up by the sea. It was quiet with seagulls croaking along the sky, the waves rushing within the gravel sand, beyond all that you notice a male on the edge of a cement floor behind some railings. He just sat there staring off to the ocean while the wind blew through his red hair strands. Wearing a long black trench coat, the material looked so well-done; was it by some expensive brand? Besides that, you took notice under was a white button shirt along with causal black pants. He seemed so simple yet elegant just alone existing. He looked almost familiar..

You grab out your camera to take a photo, the view shot was his side profile. You could notice every lock of his hair, the shape of his nose, mouth, and lips…and eyelashes? Very pretty long eyelashes..almost like that one boy. No…he disappeared…but his family was still around. Could this really be him? He was right there in front of you, not a distraction or interruption in sight but you walked away not wanting to take that chance.

Perhaps if you had, you could have learnt a nicer way to say your own name, even if he didn't know yours. You’ll just shatter your heart in every photo you click, swallow every sip of coffee bean, and shift your pillow closer to the moon. Follow this daily boring routine over and over.

—Yeah fuck no, never mind. Imagine if you say hi and he just looks at you and doesn’t even bother to say anything. A moment of silence and awkwardness just because you thought it could be that one boy you had a stupid crush on then disappeared and you also didn’t even go to the same school. Yeah fuck this.

You find yourself back to the place where you found him, he remained still lost in the vast ocean. In this serene, alone, and dull life, there had to be something. If this ends off embarrassing, you’ll be moving planets. Maybe Saturn. Or Mars.

“Usually I’m here sitting and relaxing, alone…”

Sae perks up his head at the voice,

…Was he seriously not going to say anything-

“I was here before you”

“I said usually, and I knew this place before you”

“I knew this place before you octopus, can you leave now?”

“You look like an octopus...” you mumble slightly pissed off. Now you extremely regret your decision of “trying” because all it resulted was you being insulted to an octopus. Octopus are cute.

Not even a word back, you worried if he heard you. Right now, he’s just staring at you as if he did hear you or thinking of something else to say so mean. No, he wouldn’t, anything mean would be blunt and on spot without a thought. How rude, an octopus seriously? You stared back into his teal eyes and took in every detail of the little spike of hair for his under eyelashes. It stood out so obviously yet so pretty. It was him.

“What are you staring at?” He said with a tone slightly harsh

“You’re stared first…What’s your name?”

“No” His beautiful teal orbs move away from you and back to the view of the ocean waves

What the flip.

“Well you been here long enough can you move? you’re ruining a great photo opportunity.”

“Not my problem”

“What if I just.. told Maria on you?” You almost studder on your words, slightly afraid to threaten him with such a childish manner

‘Maria?” His attention back to you, looks like that worked.

“Yeah…Maria..she’s like my secondary mother.”

“tsk..whatever.” Sae finally got up and walked mid-way before stopping and looking over his shoulder .

“Itoshi”

“huh..?”

“My name, octopus. Itoshi Sae.”

“Do you just like octopus a lot?”

He glared at you not a word back, waiting for something—

“Oh- ...My name is y/n.”

You turn around to face the coast slightly smiling, Sae began to walk away judging on the sound of his footsteps fading away into the Autumn breeze.

—

note:

.

.

.

this is kinda short i'll probaly make another one soon

[mingi-s-dimples]

A birthday to remember - jisung (nct)

This is a lil special fic for my lovely bestie @musiclovingfairy, it's her b-day today and I am really far away from her so I thought this would do hihi.

pairing: jisung (nct) x fem reader

rating: G- general audience

genre: fluff, romance, non idol au

summary: Your lovely boyfriend decides to throw you a small birthday party, only between the two of you.

WC: 2.2k

warnings: it literally doesn't have warnings LMAO. Maybe drinking? unedited

Author's Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVEEE <3333. I know we live soo so far away from each other but I am a sucker for giving gifts, even without a reason, so I couldn't stay still. I love you so much so please, enjoy this lil fic! <3 edit: yes, i know Jisung is not... the best in the kitchen but it's fiction so HAHAHAH

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction & does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

The day had been long, the kind that seemed to drag with every passing hour. Work had been relentless, the usual stack of tasks somehow growing even larger as the day wore on. By the time the clock finally signaled the end of your shift, you were exhausted, your body aching for rest and your mind yearning for something more than the sterile walls of the office.

But today was special—your birthday. And despite the fatigue, there was a quiet excitement bubbling beneath the surface, a small flicker of anticipation that kept you going through the day. Jisung had been uncharacteristically quiet about any plans for my birthday, and though you tried not to read too much into it, a part of you wondered if he had something planned. The two of you had only been dating for a few months, but every day with him had felt like a new adventure, filled with the kind of warmth and joy that made even the simplest moments feel special.

As you made your way home, the evening air was crisp, carrying with it the first hints of autumn. The streets were quiet, the sky painted in deep shades of purple and orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. You reached my apartment building, steps heavy with the weight of the day, heart still light with the possibility of what might be waiting for you.

You fumbled with my keys, pushing open the door to my apartment, and was immediately greeted by the soft glow of candlelight. The living room, usually lit by the harsh glow of overhead lights, was now bathed in a warm, inviting light that seemed to wrap itself around you like a comforting embrace.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you took in the scene before your eyes. The small table in the center of the room was adorned with a simple but elegant arrangement of flowers, their vibrant colors standing out against the soft white tablecloth. A few more candles flickered on the windowsill, their flames dancing gently as if welcoming you home. The scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, and as you stepped further into the room, Jisung appeared in the doorway, a smile on his face that made your heart skip a beat.

"Happy birthday," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection. He took a step forward, closing the distance between the two of you, and before you could say anything, he wrapped you in a gentle hug. The tension in your body melted away as you leaned into him, the comfort of his embrace washing over your body.

"Jisung, this is amazing," you whispered, voice thick with emotion. You pulled back slightly to look at him, eyes searching his for any hint of what else he might have planned. But all You saw was the same tenderness that had drawn you to him in the first place, the quiet confidence that made you feel safe and cherished.

"I wanted to do something special for you," he said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "You've been working so hard, and I know today was tough. So I thought, why not make tonight all about you?"

You smiled, heart swelling with gratitude and love. "Thank you, Jisung. This is… this is perfect."

He grinned, his eyes lighting up with that familiar playful glint. "Well, it's not over yet. I have a few more surprises up my sleeve."

Before you could ask what he meant, he took your hand and led to the table, pulling out a chair with a flourish. You couldn't help but laugh at his antics, the tension of the day fully dissipating as he sat you down. He disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, leaving you to take in the details of the scene he had set. The flowers were beautiful, a mix of your favorite blooms arranged with care. The candles cast a soft, romantic light over everything, feeling a warmth spread through that had nothing to do with the flames.

When Jisung returned, he was carrying a tray with two plates, each covered with a dome. He set them down, lifting the covers to reveal a beautifully plated meal. Your mouth watered at the sight of the perfectly cooked steak, accompanied by roasted vegetables and a side of mashed potatoes that looked like they had been whipped to perfection.

"I hope you're hungry," he said, his voice tinged with pride. "I spent all afternoon making this."

Eyes widened in surprise. "You made this yourself? Jisung, it looks incredible!"

He shrugged, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "I wanted it to be special. And besides, I know how much you love steak."

You smiled, heart swelling with affection for the man sitting across. "You're amazing, you know that?"

He ducked his head, clearly flustered by the compliment. "I'm just glad you like it. Now, let's eat before it gets cold."

The two of you dug into the meal, the rich flavors of the food making me hum with delight. Jisung had outdone himself; the steak was cooked to perfection, tender and flavorful, and the vegetables were roasted just right, their natural sweetness enhanced by a hint of seasoning. The mashed potatoes were creamy and smooth, the perfect complement to the other elements of the dish.

As you ate, you talked about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing effortlessly between the two of you. It was one of the things you loved most about being with Jisung—how easy it was to be yourself around him, to share thoughts and feelings without fear of judgment or misunderstanding. He had a way of making even the most mundane topics feel interesting, his curiosity and enthusiasm infectious.

Once you finished our meal, Jisung stood up, clearing the dishes away with a contented smile. You watched him move about the kitchen with ease, feeling a sense of warmth and gratitude settle in your chest. This was the first birthday the two of you were spending together, and you couldn't have asked for a more thoughtful and intimate celebration.

After the dishes were cleared, Jisung returned to the living room with two glasses of wine and a small, elegantly wrapped box. He handed you one of the glasses and sat down besides, on the couch, the box resting in his lap.

"Before we get to dessert, I have something for you," he said, his voice soft but laced with excitement.

Your curiosity piqued, set the wine glass on the coffee table and reached for the box. The wrapping paper was a beautiful deep blue, tied with a silver ribbon that shimmered in the candlelight. You carefully untied the ribbon, savoring the moment before lifting the lid of the box.

Inside was a delicate silver necklace, its pendant a simple yet elegant design—a small, intricately carved leaf, its edges catching the light in a way that made it almost glow. It was beautiful, understated, and perfect for you.

You looked up at Jisung, eyes misting with emotion. "Jisung, it's beautiful. I love it."

He smiled, a hint of relief in his eyes as he took the necklace from the box. "I'm glad you like it. I saw it and thought it would suit you perfectly."

He gently clasped the necklace around your neck, his fingers brushing against the skin as he did so. The pendant settled just above your collarbone, its weight a comforting reminder of Jisung's thoughtfulness. You touched the leaf pendant with my fingers, feeling the cool metal against the skin.

"Thank you, Jisung," I whispered, turning to look at him. "This means so much to me."

His gaze softened, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair away from my face. "You mean a lot to me, too. I wanted to make sure this birthday was special for you."

"It already is," you replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. The kiss was gentle, lingering, and when we pulled away, the connection between the two of you felt even stronger.

You sat in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping our wine and enjoying the quiet intimacy of the evening. The candles flickered softly around you, casting shadows that danced on the walls, and the warmth of the room was matched only by the warmth in your heart.

After a few moments, Jisung stood up again, this time heading to the kitchen with a mischievous grin. "Don't go anywhere," he called over his shoulder. "I have one more surprise for you."

You chuckled, curiosity once again getting the better of you as you waited for him to return. A few minutes later, he reappeared, carrying a small cake on a plate. It was a simple but elegant dessert, topped with fresh berries and a dusting of powdered sugar. In the center of the cake was a single candle, its flame flickering softly.

Jisung set the cake down in front of you, his eyes sparkling with happiness. "Make a wish," he said, his voice low and full of warmth.

You closed my eyes, taking a moment to think of a wish before blowing out the candle. The flame extinguished with a soft puff, leaving behind a thin trail of smoke that curled into the air. When you opened your eyes, Jisung was watching with a tender expression that made your heart skip a beat.

He handed you a fork, and together, you dug into the cake. The first bite was heavenly, the light sponge cake paired perfectly with the sweet-tartness of the berries. As you ate, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the love and care Jisung had put into making this evening special.

"You really went all out for this, didn't you?" you said, voice filled with gratitude.

Jisung shrugged, a playful grin on his lips. "Well, I wanted to make sure you knew how much you mean to me. Plus, it's your birthday—you deserve to be spoiled."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through. "I don't know how I got so lucky to have you in my life, Jisung."

He reached out and took your hand, his thumb brushing over the knuckles. "I think I'm the lucky one."

You finished the cake, the evening slipping into a comfortable silence as you sat together, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of you, wrapped in the glow of the candles and the warmth of our connection. It was a moment of perfect contentment, the kind that made you realize how truly special this night was.

As the candles burned lower and the wine in our glasses dwindled, Jisung turned your way, his eyes serious for a moment. "There's one more thing I wanted to say."

You looked at him, heart suddenly racing as you wondered what he was about to say. His gaze was intense, filled with a depth of emotion that made your breath hitch.

"Tonight was about celebrating you," he began, his voice steady but soft. "But it's also about us. I want you to know how much you mean to me. These last few months have been some of the happiest of my life, and I can't imagine my life without you in it."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his words, heart swelling with love for the man sitting besides. "Jisung, I feel the same way. You've brought so much joy and happiness into my life. I can't imagine being without you either."

He smiled, his eyes shining with emotion as he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against mine. "I'm so glad you feel that way. Because I want to keep making you happy, for as long as you'll let me."

You smiled through the tears, feeling a rush of love and gratitude for this moment, for this man who had gone out of his way to make your birthday so special. "I don't think I'll ever want you to stop."

He kissed you then, a deep, lingering kiss that seemed to convey all the emotions the two of you were feeling. When he finally pulled away, you were both smiling, hearts full to bursting.

The night continued on, the two of you curled up on the couch, talking and laughing until the early hours of the morning. It was a night of simple pleasures, of intimate moments that made you feel more connected to Jisung than ever before.

As the last of the candles finally flickered out, leaving you in the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the windows, you realized just how perfect this birthday had been. It wasn't about the gifts or the cake or even the romantic dinner—though all of those things had been wonderful. It was about the love and care that Jisung had put into making this day special and the deep connection that you shared.

As you rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, you knew that this was a birthday you would remember for the rest of your life. It was the night that you truly understood just how much Jisung meant, and how lucky you were to have him by your side.

And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you couldn't help but feel that this was just the beginning of many more happy birthdays to come.

~Happy birthday, dear Hana <3

[tatumrileyslover]

i absolutely adored your amber fic, I was hoping you could write a tara x reader (with an established relationship) where she’s the first to arrive to see her at the hospital arriving long before the others? maybe tara could have been texting her during the attack?

Solace

☆〜Pairings: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

☆〜Genre: Hurt/Comfort, angst, slight fluff

☆〜Word Count: 5.7k

☆〜Warnings: mentions of pet death, ghost face attack, blood, stabbing, hospitals, violence, language

☆〜Authors Note: I did NOT intend for this fic to be almost 6k words long, I literally have work tomorrow and it’s four am. You Tara Carpenter hoes gonna love this one, also the sheer amount of words making my tumblr lag so much

☆〜 Sequel: Redemption

Laying spread out on her couch, (Y/n) sighed in contentment. Tonight, their long-awaited date finally materialized as a beacon of hope after countless cancellations. The first time was due to Tara catching a stomach virus, and the second was cancelled when (Y/n) had a family emergency. Praying to any deities she could think of, that tonight would go exactly as planned, Tara had procured the snacks and (Y/n) scoured her parent's old stash of movies to find something good to watch.

As the golden hues of the Californian sun gently descended, casting a warm glow that seeped through the curtains of the living room, (Y/n) gazed out the window. Outside, the autumnal symphony of colors unfolded, as leaves gracefully danced in the breeze, their descent creating a delicate tapestry upon the porch. " I should get going," she groaned to herself, not ready to leave the comfort of her home, but eager to see Tara nonetheless. They were two souls who found solace in each other's embrace, navigating the highs and lows with unwavering support. Their mothers said the two were like two puzzle pieces perfectly aligned, they fit together in seamless harmony. Where you'd find one, you'd find the other.

Moving swiftly toward the coffee table where her phone rested, (Y/n) snatched it up and eagerly turned it over, her eyes darting across the screen in anticipation. Amongst the sea of notifications, a particular text caught her eye, demanding her immediate attention.

Tara:

hey any way we can resched movie night? ambers planning to come over

(Y/n)’s heart plummeted as disappointment crashed over her like a relentless wave. Not again. This week had been filled with one hardship after another, and the movie night had been the single gleaming light that had kept her going. She felt the weight of her emotions welling up, threatening to spill over as tears pooled in her eyes.

It hadn't escaped (Y/n)'s notice that something was amiss between Tara and herself. Lately, their once vibrant connection had dimmed, leaving behind an unsettling silence. Tara's responses to her texts were delayed, leaving them unread for what felt like an eternity, only to receive curt and simple replies. Their nightly calls, once filled with laughter and heartfelt conversations, had dwindled to mere whispers of their former selves.

(Y/n) had tried to attribute Tara's behavior to exam stress, desperately clinging to the hope that it was a passing phase. But deep down, a gnawing doubt lingered, as if an invisible force was eroding the foundation of their relationship. It was a silent ache that chipped away at her sense of security, whispering the possibility of something more significant beneath the surface.

With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) wrestled with her conflicted thoughts, battling between wanting to confront the issue head-on and fearing the answers that lay beyond. As tears streaked down her cheeks, she realized that the movie night had symbolized more than just a chance to unwind—it had become a symbol of the dwindling connection she desperately longed to reignite.

In the midst of her turmoil, the sadness transformed to rage.

(Y/n):

Seriously tar

(Y/n):

Istg we’ve been planning this night for months now

(Y/n):

I seriously need you right now, we haven’t hung out in so long and you want to cancel on me

Determined to break the silence and confront the anguish that consumed her, (Y/n) resolved to make Tara fully aware of the pain she was inflicting. She refused to suffer in the darkness any longer, vowing to express the depth of her emotions and lay bare the impact of Tara's actions on their relationship.

With bated breath, (Y/n) watched the notification indicating that Tara had read her text. Her eyes fixated on the screen, heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation, as she anxiously awaited the telltale signs of Tara's response. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, every passing moment fueling her need for a reply, a sign that their connection still held a glimmer of hope.

Tara:

I’m sorry but ambers been having a bad day

In an explosion of fiery emotions, (Y/n)'s anger consumed her. The realization that Tara had prioritized a friend's well-being over her own girlfriend's struck a nerve deep within her. How could Tara fail to show even a shred of concern for what (Y/n) had endured throughout the week? The flames of resentment burned brightly, fueled by the perception that Tara lacked the basic decency to make an effort to understand and support her partner. (Y/n) yearned for acknowledgment, for Tara to see the depth of her pain and recognize the importance of their connection.

With each passing second, the fire within (Y/n) raged on, threatening to consume everything in its path. The time for silence and complacency was over. (Y/n) vowed to confront Tara, to unleash the inferno of her feelings and demand the respect and consideration she deserved.

(Y/n):

What about your own fucking girlfriend huh?

(Y/n):

Do you even know what the fuck happened to me this week!

(Y/n):

No you don’t, because it’s always Amber this, Amber that, Amber Amber Amber

Tara:

R u being serious rn

(Y/n):

my dog died on Monday

(Y/n):

it’s Saturday Tara

(Y/n):

and you didn’t even know because you aren’t even talking to me anymore.

(Y/n) let out a heavy sigh, frustration and hurt weighing heavily on her shoulders. She tossed her phone onto the couch, its screen illuminating the room for a moment before sinking into the soft cushions. She buried her head in her hands, seeking solace in the darkness, hoping that this act of vulnerability would finally make Tara realize the profound impact of her actions.

As (Y/n)'s fingers interlaced, a subtle vibration traveled through the cushions beside her. Startled, she lifted her head and turned her gaze toward the source of the unexpected movement. A flicker of hope sparked within her, wondering if perhaps Tara had sensed the gravity of the situation and was reaching out in response.

With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, (Y/n) reached for her phone, hoping to find a message from Tara that would acknowledge the pain she had caused and signal a willingness to address the underlying issues.

Tara:

Milos dead?

As tears streamed down her face, (Y/n)'s heart sank deeper into despair. The painful truth hit her with a forceful blow—Tara hadn't even acknowledged her feelings, let alone shown remorse for the hurt she had caused. In that moment, (Y/n) realized the difficult decision she needed to make.

Her fingers trembled as she wiped away the tears, a newfound determination taking root within her. It became clear that she couldn't continue in a relationship where her needs went unacknowledged and her emotions were dismissed. (Y/n) understood that she deserved someone who would put in the effort, who would cherish and respect her.

With a heavy yet resolute sigh, (Y/n) made up her mind. She would give Tara the space to figure herself out, to confront her own shortcomings and decide if she was willing to put in the effort required to mend their fractured bond. (Y/n) knew that she deserved a partner who would meet her halfway, who would prioritize their love and demonstrate genuine care.

As she made this decision, a bittersweet sense of liberation washed over (Y/n). It was a painful realization, but also a necessary one. She was prepared to step back, to let Tara find her own way, and to focus on healing herself in the process. With newfound clarity, she resolved to no longer tolerate being taken for granted.

(Y/n):

Tara I think we should take a break

Tara:

WHAT

Tara:

(Y/n) you can’t be serious

Tara:

We need to talk about this in person

Tara:

Come over I’ve told Amber to stay home

(Y/n):

we’ll talk on monday

With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) flipped her phone over and gently placed it back on the couch cushion. The persistent buzzing continued for a couple of minutes before gradually fading into silence. As she sat cross-legged on the floor, her gaze fixated on the plain wall before her, her mind swirled with a mixture of emotions.

In an effort to divert her thoughts, (Y/n) decided to immerse herself in a familiar and comforting activity. Rising from the floor, she made her way to the kitchen with determined steps. As she gathered the ingredients for baking cookies, the room filled with the sweet and nostalgic aroma that enveloped her senses.

With each measured scoop and gentle mix, (Y/n) found solace in the rhythmic process of creating something warm and inviting. The familiar motions of baking temporarily transported her to cherished memories of love and comfort, memories intertwined with moments shared with Tara. It was bittersweet, a reminder of the love they had once shared and the warmth that had brought them together.

As the cookies began to bake, filling the air with an irresistible scent, (Y/n) couldn't help but be caught in a swirl of conflicting emotions. The aroma wrapped around her, providing a temporary respite from the pain and uncertainty. Yet, within that comforting scent, lay memories of the love and connection she and Tara had once shared. It was a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost, but also a glimmer of the love that still lingered in her heart.

As (Y/n) carefully laid the freshly baked cookie onto the cooling rack, her mind drifted into a melodic trance. Humming a tune that played on repeat in her head, she found solace in the rhythmic melody. Lost in the sweet moment, her worries momentarily faded away.

However, her blissful reverie was abruptly interrupted by the persistent buzzing of her phone. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The sound echoed through the room, piercing the tranquility she had cultivated. (Y/n) let out a weary sigh, wondering what urgent message or notification could demand her attention at this moment.

Her playful imagination offered a lighthearted explanation, imagining that Mindy must be spamming her with updates about a newly announced horror movie. The thought brought a small giggle to her lips, a brief respite from the emotional heaviness that weighed upon her.

Curiosity piqued, (Y/n) reached for her phone, eager to discover the nature of the buzzes that had disrupted her peaceful interlude. With a mix of anticipation and amusement, she unlocked the screen, preparing herself for the unexpected and hoping for a welcome distraction from her swirling emotions.

Tara:

there’s some psycho calling me

Tara:

I answered an unknown number they know my name

Tara:

Shit

Tara:

I’ve locked my doors

Tara:

Please come over asap

Tara:

i can’t leave cars with my mom

Tara:

He’s fucking calling again

Tara:

Ambers acting weird

Tara:

False alarm maybe?

Tara:

She’s telling me to answer it

Tara:

(Y/n) seriously get your ass over here, the creeps using her phone, they knew when the landline was ringing

Tara:

I’m seriously freaking out right now

(Y/n)'s body went rigid with a chilling dread as the series of alarming texts from Tara unfolded before her eyes. Panic surged through her veins, and she knew she had to act swiftly. With a sense of urgency, she scrambled to put on her shoes, her fingers trembling as she hastily laced them up.

Her mind raced, consumed by a growing sense of unease. The cryptic messages from Tara painted a haunting picture of a dangerous situation unfolding. (Y/n)'s heart pounded, propelled by both fear for Tara's safety and a desperate need to unravel the mystery that now threatened them.

She frantically searched the couch cushions, her hands darting between the crevices, determined to find the misplaced car keys that held the key to her escape. Time seemed to slip through her fingers, each passing second amplifying the urgency of the situation.

Finally, her fingers closed around the cool metal of the car keys, and a flicker of hope ignited within her. With a gasp of relief, she pulled them free, clutching them tightly in her trembling hand. There was no time to waste.

(Y/n) dashed toward the door, her heart racing like a drumbeat of adrenaline. The gravity of Tara's messages resonated within her, spurring her forward with unwavering determination. She needed to reach Tara's side, to offer comfort, protection, and an unwavering presence in the face of their shared fear.

Sitting in the front seat of her car, (Y/n)'s hands trembled as she realized the urgency of letting Tara know she was on her way to help. With swift determination, she typed out a message,

(Y/n):

Omw gimme 5 mins I’ll call cops otw

Before she could even start the engine Tara had replied

Tara:

Hurry

Amber:

ANSWER THE PHONE OR AMBER DIES

Tara's heart raced as she sprinted towards the ringing landline, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Every fiber of her being was driven by the desperate need to save her friend from whatever horrors were lurking on the other end of the line. She knew her girlfriend, was already on her way, determined to reach her side as quickly as humanly possible, speeding down the suburban streets, driven by an urgent need to make the ten-minute drive shorter.

With trembling hands, Tara snatched the receiver from its cradle, her voice filled with anger and defiance as she spoke into the phone, “This isn’t fucking funny Amber!”

The voice that emanated from the other end of the line sent a chill down Tara's spine. It was a voice shrouded in mystery, draped in a tone that seemed to drip with a malevolent aura. It held an eerie calmness, devoid of any warmth or humanity, as if it existed solely to strike fear into her heart.

As the words, “I told you, this isn’t Amber,”resonated through the receiver, the voice carried a bone-chilling quality. It was a voice that sent a shiver racing down Tara's back, conjuring images of hidden dangers and unseen terrors. There was an unsettling cadence to the voice, a calculated rhythm that left no doubt that it was intended to provoke fear and uncertainty.

Tara's immediate internal fear intensified in response. The realization that the voice on the other end of the line was not who she initially assumed filled her with a sense of dread. It was a realization that shattered any lingering hope of this being a mere misunderstanding or prank. Instead, it emphasized the presence of an unknown figure, one with malicious intentions and a voice that resonated with a menacing power.

In that moment, Tara's fear became palpable, her instincts urging her to take caution and be on guard.

Tara's heart skipped a beat as a message flashed across her phone screen. Her trembling hands reached for the device, and with a mixture of curiosity and dread, she opened the message. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the video that unfolded before her.

Amber, caught in an intimate moment, unaware of the malevolent presence that lurked just outside her bedroom window. The chilling voice that narrated the video through the crackling receiver broke the silence, dripping with a sarcastic tone that sent a shiver down Tara's spine.

As the video played, Tara's breath hitched, her mind reeling with the realization that Amber’s phone had been cloned. How long had she been talking to this unknown psycho for? She felt exposed, vulnerable, and at the mercy of an unknown adversary who had found a way to infiltrate her most personal moments.

“What do you want?” Tara quivered, unsure of what the voice wanted from her.

“I told you, I want to play a game,”

“Stab movie trivia,”

The malevolent figure had known she didn’t know anything about the Stab franchise, just moments before, she had confessed to only watching the first movie—and even then, it was at a sleepover six years ago—Tara felt a wave of panic wash over her as the weight of her predicament settled in her chest. The options before her seemed daunting: she could reach out to the authorities, but the looming threat of immediate harm or worse, death, loomed over her. The malevolent figure had made it clear that any wrong move, any misstep, would have dire consequences for Amber.

Her mind raced, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmarish scenario. She felt the weight of the Stab franchise's intricate details and plot twists bearing down on her, her limited knowledge leaving her vulnerable to the malevolent figure's sadistic game. The questions that awaited her were poised like traps, ready to ensnare her and seal Amber's tragic fate.

“Question one, who wrote the original books that the Stab movies are based on?”

Tara's mind raced as she desperately tried to recollect her memories. A book? The details were hazy, fading remnants of a distant recollection. She racked her brain, grasping for any shred of information that could help her in this dire situation. In a moment of clarity, a name burst forth from the depths of her memory.

"Th-the chick from TV," she stammered, her voice quivering. "Oh, Gale Weathers! It's Gale Weathers, you motherfucker!"

A chilling silence hung in the air, interrupted only by the masked figure's sinister chuckle. "Correct," the voice responded, dripping with a perverse satisfaction. "Amber might live to see the sunrise."

“Question two, who played the dumb bitch in the beginning of Stab one, who answers the phone and gets carved up by the killer?”

Tara’s hands quivered, the voice speaking almost mockingly to her situation, she never thought such an innocent phone call would end up like this, “fuck you!” She whispered quietly.

“Is that the answer you’re going with?”

Tara's sobs escaped her lips, a mixture of fear and frustration enveloping her. Time was slipping away, and the pressure to find the answer mounted with each tick of the taunting noises in the background. Desperation fueled her actions as she hastily pulled out her phone, fingers trembling as she searched for the cast list of Stab.

The voice on the other end of the line relished in her panic, using the ticking noises to remind her of the ever-dwindling seconds. Tara's eyes darted across the screen, her fingers swiping frantically, searching for that one crucial detail she needed. Where was it? The pressure weighed heavily upon her, pushing her to the brink.

"Heather Graham!" she blurted out, her voice quivering with a mix of uncertainty and hope. It was the answer that had come to mind, a name she hoped was associated with the first Stab movie. In that fleeting moment, she clung to the belief that her response was correct, that it would be enough to keep Amber safe.

A pause hung in the air, the voice on the other end relishing in the suspense. Then, a response echoed through the phone line. "Correct," the voice acknowledged, a sinister satisfaction lacing its tone. "Now, the final question: Who was the killer in Stab one?"

Tara almost sighed in relief, her voice laced with a mix of distress and defiance. "Oh, I know this one, you fuck!" Her words carried a defiant edge, fueled by a surge of determination. With a swallowed gulp, she didn't hesitate to provide her answer. "It's Billy Loomis! He's Sidney's boyfriend, and he was played by Luke Wilson. I've got you, asshole!"

An air of relief and triumph began to creep into Tara's voice, ready to celebrate her victory over the voice that had tormented her. She was certain of her answer, convinced that she had outsmarted the sinister figure on the other end of the line. "I've got it!"

A chilling silence hung in the air before the voice delivered a shocking response. "Oh, I'm sorry, Tara, but that's just not correct."

Tara's look of relief crumbled, replaced by a mix of confusion and growing concern. Doubt gnawed at her as she attempted to double-check her answer, her fingers frantically navigating through her phone. How could she have been so wrong? Billy Loomis was the killer, wasn't he?

"The correct answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher," the voice coldly explained, reveling in its control over the situation. "There are two killers in the original Stab. I'm afraid someone's gotta die now."

With a surge of adrenaline, Tara rushed towards the front door, her sole focus on saving Amber's life. Her trembling hands fumbled with the lock, desperately trying to unlock it and swing the door open. As the door swung wide, her path was abruptly blocked by a figure standing in the doorway, clad in the iconic Stab Ghostface costume. The sight sent chills down her spine.

In the intruder's hand gleamed a knife, its blade poised for attack, slashing at her side. Fear coursed through Tara's veins, but she refused to let it paralyze her. Summoning her courage, she lashed out, delivering a powerful punch aimed at the intruder's face. The blow momentarily stunned the masked figure, giving Tara a brief moment of respite.

Seizing the opportunity, she pushed against the door with all her might, attempting to shut it on the intruder. A grunt escaped her lips as she exerted every ounce of strength, her body pressed against the door. However, the relentless assailant's gloved hand snaked through the narrowing crack, the glint of a hunter knife threateningly waving in the air.

With a final burst of effort, Tara managed to force the intruder out and swiftly locked the door from the inside. Trembling and gasping for breath, she clutched at her pouring wound, tears streaming down her face in hysterics. Despite the pain and fear overwhelming her, she managed to summon the presence of mind to activate the home security system, a desperate attempt to fortify herself against any further intrusion.

The deafening bangs against the front door reverberated through the house, each thud echoing with a bone-chilling intensity. Tara clutched a knife tightly in her trembling hands, attempting to assert some form of control. She threatened the intruder with the arrival of the police, hoping to deter them. Yet, as abruptly as the banging started, it ceased, leaving the house shrouded in an eerie silence.

Tara cautiously backed away from the door, her gaze fixed on it, her senses on high alert. The wound on her side throbbed with pain, each heartbeat a painful reminder of her vulnerability. The momentary respite was disrupted by a loud noise emanating from her phone.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

Fear gripped her heart as she realized the intruder had tampered with the security system. With a desperate rush, she quickly accessed the app, her fingers trembling as she frantically locked the doors once again.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

The repeating cycle of the security system continued, amplifying the tension that hung in the air. Tara's mind raced as she tried to regain control, her wounded body screaming with each movement. She tapped on the lock button in a frenzied frenzy, desperately hoping to deny the intruder any chance of entry.

But the unrelenting repetition of the words continued, mocking her efforts.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

Tara's fear escalated, her voice choked with terror as she attempted to shout for help. Yet, no words escaped her lips, only hoarse noises of distress. Her movements became erratic, each pause prolonging the time it took to secure the locks.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

The relentless cycle of the security system added to the mounting tension, amplifying the sense of impending danger. Tara's breaths grew ragged as she slowly backed into the kitchen, her gaze never straying from the front door.

The piercing ring of the landline shattered the silence once again, sending a surge of fear coursing through Tara's veins. Her scream of terror echoed through the house as she hit her back against the wall, tears streaming down her cheeks like a torrent. With hesitant steps, she moved toward the ringing phone, each movement laden with trepidation.

"Hello?"

"Bonus Question, Tara!"

Tara's plea fell on deaf ears as the voice on the other end continued with sadistic glee. Her body curled inward, overcome by fear. She couldn't bear the torment any longer. Her thoughts raced to (Y/n), praying for her swift arrival. Tara wished she would come sooner, but deep down, she hoped the police would arrive first, shielding her from harm. In that moment, Tara realised she couldn't bear the thought of (Y/n) getting hurt. If she made it out alive, she vowed to never let her go again.

"Do you think I made it inside your house before you could rearm?"

An icy arm coiled around Tara's trembling torso, pulling her forcefully against a chilling presence. The killer's other hand, wielding the gleaming blade, plunged mercilessly into her gut. Agonized screams tore from Tara's throat as the knife was wrenched out, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake. Fighting against the searing pain, she managed to push herself away from her assailant, her front colliding with the cold, unforgiving countertop.

Summoning a surge of determination, Tara spun around with a sudden backhand, striking the killer with a burst of defiance. But her resistance was short-lived as a vice-like grip seized her hair, wrenching her down onto the unforgiving hardwood floor. The impact jarred her senses, leaving her disoriented and vulnerable, face pressed into the unyielding surface.

Desperation fueled her every movement as Tara attempted to kick away her attacker, her hopes of escape crushed under the brutal force of a stomping boot. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the air, intertwining with Tara's anguished screams. Her ankle mangled and shattered, rendering her attempts at resistance futile.

The killer, relentless in their pursuit, sought to position Tara for a final, fatal blow. But she refused to succumb without a fight. Summoning every ounce of strength, she raised her trembling hand in a desperate bid for defense. The blade tore through her flesh, eliciting a surge of searing pain, yet she persisted. Pushing against the blade with an agonizing determination, her blood mingling with the tears streaming down her face.

A fleeting moment of distraction granted Tara a brief respite. Seizing the opportunity, she mustered her remaining strength and launched a fierce kick at her tormentor. The force sent them hurtling backward, colliding violently with the kitchen island. Tara, lying prone on her stomach, dragged herself across the floor, a crimson trail left in her wake, intermingled with her anguished sobs.

The killer, slowly rising to their feet, taunted her with sadistic amusement. Their presence shadowed her every move as she struggled towards the distant patio doors, the faint wail of sirens growing louder. But her desperate escape was cut short as they viciously seized her ankles, yanking her back into their clutches. With chilling precision, they struck her back twice, puncturing her with each merciless stab.

A crimson halo enveloped Tara, her strength waning, yet she fought against the encroaching darkness. The killer spun her around, their malevolence masked by the reflection of red and blue police lights bouncing off their plastic Ghostface facade. As the world blurred and her life hung in the balance, a final cry reverberated through the night, a desperate plea for salvation.

“TARA!”

When (Y/n) burst through the front door, her heart sank at the sight of Tara's bloodied body sprawled across the floor. Ignoring the fading smudge of black, her focus was solely on Tara's well-being. She rushed over, cradling Tara's unconscious form against her chest, an instinctual need to protect taking over. If only she had come over as planned, if only she hadn't let jealousy cloud her judgment about Tara's friendship with Amber. (Y/n)'s tears streamed down her face as she held Tara's good hand, pressing gentle kisses to its back. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice laced with regret.

To her astonishment, Tara's hand weakly squeezed back, a glimmer of hope amidst the despair. (Y/n)'s touch shifted to cup Tara's blood-stained cheek, her eyes filled with concern. "Just hold on, darling. The ambulance is right outside," she reassured, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. The sound of approaching footsteps alerted (Y/n) to the presence of others in the house, as people hurried into the kitchen, acknowledging the need for immediate medical assistance.

Tara was swiftly transferred to a waiting stretcher, (Y/n) steadfastly refusing to let go of her limp hand. A paramedic approached, inquiring about their relationship. (Y/n)'s voice trembled as she pleaded, tears streaming down her face, "I'm her girlfriend. Please, let me go with her. I can't leave her alone again." The paramedic nodded sympathetically, granting her request. "Go ahead," they said, understanding the depth of (Y/n)'s anguish.

With a mixture of hope and trepidation, (Y/n) followed Tara into the ambulance, her grip on her girlfriend's hand unyielding.

The ride to the hospital seemed like a hazy dream, (Y/n)'s mind clouded with worry and guilt. Tara remained unconscious, her pale face framed by the sterile hospital lights. The paramedics worked diligently, tending to her wounds with professional efficiency. (Y/n)'s gaze never wavered from Tara's face, her eyes searching desperately for any flicker of awareness. She wanted Tara to know that she was there, that she would never leave her side, even if the hospital staff tried to force her out.

The sight of Tara in the hospital bed, connected to various monitors and IV drips, filled (Y/n)'s heart with a mix of anguish and determination. This could have been prevented if only she had been there with her girlfriend. Now, Tara lay covered in gauze and dissolvable stitches, a stark reminder of the violence she had endured. (Y/n) vowed silently to be her rock, to support her through every step of the recovery process.

As the hospital staff continued their work, (Y/n) gently held Tara's hand, offering a silent reassurance in her touch. She whispered words of love and encouragement, hoping that somewhere within the depths of Tara's unconsciousness, her presence would be felt. The beeping machines and sterile hospital environment faded into the background as (Y/n)'s focus remained solely on Tara, her unwavering devotion shining through her eyes.

(Y/n)'s thoughts swirled with conflicting emotions as she sat by Tara's side in the hospital room. The urge to reach out to their friends and inform them about what had happened tugged at her, but a part of her hesitated. Almost selfishly, she wanted this moment to be just between her and Tara. She wanted Tara to wake up and find solace in her presence, to see the remorse and love etched in every fiber of her being.

Clutching Tara's hand tightly, (Y/n)'s eyes never left her girlfriend's face. She longed for Tara to open her eyes, to see the love and dedication shining through her gaze. It was important for (Y/n) to express her deepest apologies, to make sure Tara understood that she would never abandon her, no matter what. She needed Tara to know the depths of her love and commitment, to feel the unwavering support and presence by her side.

Growing weary, (Y/n) felt herself slipping into the realm of dreams, her grip on Tara's hand never faltering. But just as she began to drift away, a voice reached her ears, pulling her back to consciousness. With a sudden squeeze of her hand, Tara's touch broke through the veil of sleep. (Y/n)'s eyes shot open, wide with surprise and relief. There was Tara, sitting up in her hospital bed, her disheveled hair tied back, her eyes red and weary, and yet her presence was a beacon of beauty and strength.

Tears welled up in (Y/n)'s eyes, streaming down her cheeks like an unstoppable cascade. It was as if a dam had burst within her, releasing all the pent-up emotions she had been holding onto. Tara's loving gaze quickly shifted to concern at the sight of (Y/n)'s tears. "What's wrong? Please don't cry," Tara's voice, raspy from the ordeal, carried that familiar softness and affectionate tone that (Y/n) had longed to hear.

Through her tear-strained voice, (Y/n) choked out her words, unable to contain the overwhelming remorse and love she felt. "Tara, I'm so fucking sorry. I should have just come over, I should have been there for you-" Her words trailed off, interrupted by the weight of her guilt.

Tara's expression softened, a tender smile gracing her lips. "Hey, hey, it's okay," she reassured, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "None of this was your fault. I know you would have been here if you could. What matters now is that you're here with me, and I love you.”

Tara scooted to the edge of the hospital bed, patting the space beside her, an invitation for (Y/n) to join her. The desire for comfort and solace radiated from Tara's eyes, a silent plea for the warmth of her girlfriend's embrace after the harrowing ordeal they had both endured. (Y/n) hesitated for a moment, mindful of Tara's injuries, but the need for their souls to intertwine and find solace in each other's presence outweighed any physical discomfort. Gingerly, she laid down beside Tara, careful to support herself and cradle Tara's head in her arms.

Nuzzling her nose into Tara's hair, (Y/n) whispered with a voice filled with love and longing, "I missed you." The words carried the weight of their shared experiences and the depth of their connection. In that tender moment, they sought solace in each other's embrace, finding strength and healing in their love.

Tara shifted slightly, snuggling closer to (Y/n)'s chest, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. The rise and fall of each other's breaths created a rhythm that matched their heartbeat, a synchrony of love and reassurance. (Y/n) pressed gentle kisses to the top of Tara's head, conveying the depth of her affection and the promise of unwavering support.

As they lay there, entwined in each other's arms, the world outside the hospital room faded away.

“I missed you too”