Author's First Note: Hi everybody! It is a ginormous pleasure to get back to the imagines again and somehow escaping my comfort zone by writing anything related with the reader. 

A wee behind the scenes fact about this imagine: It's based on one of Panic! At the Disco's songs, subsequently naming it after this work! <3 

This prompt is going to be a pure LGBT and fluffy one. Moreover, let's not forget to mention the attention mark to this prompt is that Jude and the female reader are sharing a miniature, nevertheless, cozy cottage in an alienated forest and they are dating one another for a few years, besides Jude and Timothy are the true knights in the shining armor of the female reader even though she lives with her girlfriend all alone.

Just read it for yourselves to discover the genuine concept of the imagine even if it is slightly bland for certain people. I am wishing you a beyond delightful reading journey as well. :))

A Special Dedication to the Lovelies: Trash_Bag_123 (Of course, my favorite bitch), southernauthor, sociopathsis, JessicaLangeLove, JunykoWalker, Jessielangeahs, Yararebird, stallonesgirl, cherryannesausa and Celeste-Moore! 

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The very wee hours of the early April morning loomed the vast horizon of the small city of Massachusetts, chaperoning the sluggish sunrise tinging in the most scintillating nuances of aureate the sapphire sky and magnifying its megawatt mass of its celestially outstanding presence levitating sweetly. The wonderfully gargantuan wreath of serenely honey-mouthed birdsongs chirps impaled the small, alienated cottage in the profoundly poetic, verdurous forest and tingled angelic hymns into yours and Jude's ears. The sybaritic cataract of translucently vibrant gilt sunlight hailed the monumental trees towering against the one-story property's bearing a semblance of formidably monumental forest titans motionlessly embellishing their own home's interior.

Once you got early and woke up in the company of your girlfriend's promisingly protective, satin embrace bracing your frail skeleton during the slumber's twilight and twitching ordinarily leisure your muscles in the blue moon cases of altering your positions by either flipping on the other side or on the contrary abiding mummified, thereafter you brushed your teeth, washed your face and got donned up in your everyday outfit for indoors even when you didn't have any intentions of aiming to any dream, imminent destinations whose distances were far cry from nigh.

On your mission to venture up inside the kitchen shortly after fulfilling a handful of meaningfully ordinary deeds participating eagerly in your daily morning routine, besides neatly making your queen-sized bed, consequently your imminent destination was nowhere else than trading the same site with your lovely girlfriend whose very presence populated, in order to prepare a freshly scrumptious, mere breakfast and brewing coffee nonetheless. The cluster of fashionably surreptitious, humble footsteps ghostwrote the floor and synchronizing its repetitive bark of your slipper-clad feet until your pools of abysmally sympathetic E/C fixated on the older woman swaying her hips monotonously, whilst a mellifluously quiet, childishly modest hum emerged from her sympathetically weak, sunny smile tugging at the corner of her naturally nude, insatiably chapped lip.

The luxuriously majestic illustration of the former pious member of the clergy donned up in nothing else than a large-sized, comfy olive green T-shirt hugging her petite-frame and its mischievously jovial hem flickering past her mid-thigh, paired with her comfy pair of lacy jet-black panties sheathing her pubic area and her bare feet meagerly ghosting the pine wooden floor beneath her starkly milky soles. The mouth-wateringly amazing lion mane of unruly old Hollywood gilded tresses cascaded her upper back, whereas her pools of poetically deep caramel brown lingered on the kettle of simmering translucent liquid and the pan of a handful of broken eggs motionlessly comfortable settled on top of the steel surface.

The sun's opulent gilded cataract streamed the kitchen window and exquisitely curtaining the former pious member of the clergy's outstandingly gorgeous facial attributes and the sheerly amenable exposure of her milky flesh to the natural daylight filter beamingly cradling in its grapple its own children of the sun. Her caramel brown moons were the true definition of beaming sanctums. She looked so profound. She looked so radiant. Jude was your ray of sunshine after all. Once the sun's dreamlessly zealous touch prominently drifted to the one of a kind former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer to bestow her its myriad of unconditionally natural warmness and zealously angelical kindheartedness wreathing her versatile exposed fleshy muscles enveloped in gilt-clad layer of tenderly marbled epidermis.

"Good morning, my lovely ray of sunshine!" Meantime, you snuck before the former promiscuous nightclub singer's petite frame, whilst manipulating gingerly your satin arms to brace her flabbergastingly slim waist and pressing a peck to the nape of her creamily gypsum expanse as your uniquely cherubic lips occluded to maintain its appropriate proximity with the insatiably delicious skin. The starkly nimble elaboration of your fleshy nude pink lips' sweet coo expel restricted the ethereally timeless tranquility pitching the kitchen except the silver-tonguedly elating birdsongs wreath embellishing the lonely one-story house's vista.

"Oh God, Y/N!" Meekly silver-tongued, girlishly demure giggle bubbled up from the older woman's throat, stinging widened her hazelish-brown moons instantaneously at the spontaneously lovely surprise and molting into your promisingly protective, doting embrace whilst one of her petite hands' spidery deft, creamy fingers worked on grasping the spatula unlike her other hand's tissues cradling the kettle's handle, keeping her wits about the current trance of the ideally tranquil liquid until troop of bubbly speckles paddling the crystalline, weightless blanket. "Ya made me to jump out of my skin in a New York minute, lovely!" Stifling its frigidly unwelcoming gasp to fiddle clumsily her oral slit for its immediate release, consequently the middle-aged lady cocked back her head and sensing a fistful of rebelliously silken old Hollywood golden tresses tickled your shoulders once she sealed your oral slit with hers into a brief, nevertheless, intoxicatingly mellow kiss. "Morning, sweetie!"

"I see you are mildly earlier up!" Emitting a velvety, divinely elating coo lingering on your tongue tip, throughout you unbuckled your arms from the grapple and managed to rummage the upper kitchen cabinet for a twain of cleanly unused mugs to be conveniently settled on top of the counter eventually.

"Amusing or not, there's always a better variant to conciliate the dynamic time as our stomachs sometimes are growling a bit too much," At the moment, the pleasantly inebriating northern lilt punctured the Bostonian's medley of infernal irony, heavenly mirth and gracious calmness chanting her own rational ballad, whereas an inexorably fierce growl of your stomach caught you off guard and snapping your brittle, smooth fingertips gliding to knead on circles the flat bump contoured beneath your casually sultry magenta polka-dot embroidered-clad nightie hugging your figure as its jovial hem flared across your mid-thigh. "It seems that somebody is genuinely peckish." Then you hunkered down to rummage the last chest of drawers to obtain two lily-white plates for the welcomingly scrumptious breakfast and roosting them up on top of the counter at last.

"Yep and my stomach is craving for something to suppress that fiery hunger as well!"

"Don't worry about that one, babydoll!" The suddenness of the blonde scooping up the broken eggs until they landed on the flat of the plates and her femininely megawatt, soft fingers maneuvered to alter the hob's knobs to halt its emphatically potent function at last didn't enforce you to play the role of the dull protagonist in the room even when you aided the former devotional sister of the church to plonk partly the lily-white mugs with its umbra liquid swamping, docilely escorting its portion of two eggs per a person in an individual dish. "I will take care of the rest of the stuff while you can just take your own cup of freshly brewed coffee, ya know!"

In a long minute of docilely crooking your orthodoxy feather-soft, spidery fingers grabbing your cup of happily refreshing umbra liquid on your mission to seat on the kitchen table and spending a quarter an hour in the company of the love of your life, everything else such as eating silver tools and the dishes of eggs were instantaneously installed on the furniture at last.

"Mmm, it is promisingly delicious! You did a great job!" Suddenly your fingers danced around the grayish fork and butter knife to cut on smaller scale of pieces the meal and prong its initial bite to hypodermically cozy roost on your berry-coloured tongue, subsequently commencing to manipulate your pearly white teeth to grind recklessly repetitive on the first bite and duplicating its miniature food chunks authentically succulent enriching the fat of your berry-coloured tongue until you swigged it at last. The sweetness of your blatantly straightforward mewl curled your bottom pink mouth at the confession.

"No wonder certain good things take even less time than some to be the sweetest treasures!"

"Don't forget that it depends who the one crafting it is!" The haphazardness of your gracefulness honing your razor-edgedly emboldening, rational whisper shortly after its obdurately lethal, apocalyptic clash of vowels and syllables building its ounce to construct your imminent utterance followed the diligent symphony of velvety purr egressing from the middle-aged lady's feminine Adam apple, whereas an inevitably bitter lump seethed your throat.

"Exactly! I'm sincerely pleased to hear that yar always enjoying my meals."

"There's nothing wrong with telling the truth anyway." Maneuvering to incline perkily an eyebrow at the former religious member of the clergy's utterance, you couldn't stifle a girlishly guttural snigger sloppily dripping from your mouth as she joined boldly, muffling hers seconds before dancing her fingers around the mug's marbled handle to gulp a handful of tiny, amenably bitter sips from the caffeine beverage. "What are ya actually up to today, besides staying at home?"

"Oh! Probably doing some gardening in the yard and yeah!" Celestial radiance, eloquence pinned down the severe northern lilt of the former sleazy nightclub singer's revelation about her today's activity which even a single action is genuinely worth and could be more meaningfully productive compared to its competitors eventually. Regardless the humor's anomalies simmering the middle-aged woman's that tinged the very tones of her ode's chant, you could never get enough of her indubitably succulent Boston lilt articulating each vowel and each syllable's outstandingly authentic conjugation tingling its angelic anthems desperately into your ears and sensing its incessantly intoxicating hammer into your eardrums demonically tattooing with its prominently abstract, ever-lasting ink the very memories' formation in your vortex of thoughts. After all your relationship that you have been endured for more than a few years relentlessly, midst the first crudely real symptoms of your head over heels' sinfully epidemic phenomenon and lastly finding the ideal soulmate matching the deepest fragment of your flimsy heart were eavesdropping the ballad of Jude while talking to you, depending on the decibels intensifying her recent humor's reflection. Regardless her monstrously fiery fury or afflictively despondent sorrow suffocating her cells to function properly and formulating the recent tones of her forthcoming exclaimations, the abysmally undiscovered depths of her temper inevitably fierce geared frequently. "What about you too, baby doll? What are yar plans for today?"

"Perhaps I'm still thinking I'll be the one to take care of the gardening and the dishes."

"Nah! Ya don't need to pressure yar pretty, pixie-like fingers for such tasks that aren't your constant obligation!"

"I just dislike appearing completely useless for doing absolutely nothing about the question, Judy."

"Well, there's always something over there to do, Y/N!" In the interval, the older woman shot a mischievously fleet wink at you, whereas generous layer of blush in the lightest hues of morello darkened its powder hypodermically crawling its efficiently inescapable, apocalyptically sweltering heat suffusing your well-sculptured, chubby cheeks at the hoarsely noxious, ominously jubilant chuckle.

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--- A Handful of Hours Later or So ---

Just a few hours after having breakfast and your morning sinfully happy coffee savored by your very oral slits, you washed the dishes, eating tools and cups of caffeine sludge swamping the surfaces motionlessly eventually and exited the cottage's interior to take care of the rich medley of flowers anticipating eagerly to be watered and some of them no longer persistently flourishing. Notwithstanding the circumstances, you have changed your daily outfit from your nightie into a comfy floral mint T-shirt, paired with denim jeans guarding your silken legs.

The day became a victim of the afternoon's vibrantly balmy twilight looming the very horizon of Boston and channelizing its purely abstract, absolutely unbelievable mirrored afternoon sun light heinously noxious brimming the magnificently gigantic crowns-clad trees, bushes, plants and its façades. Yet the peaceful honey-mouthed birdsongs chirps rippled your and Judy's soft epidermis of your overall legs and arms into luxurious yield of electrifyingly icy horripilation.

The garden task was not only midst your and Judy's daily routines a few times a week, but also you candidly enjoyed taking care gravely of the flowers you have seeded together and allowing to flourish through the balmy annual episodes. There was nothing more relaxingly soothing than channelizing your hands to be calloused and dirt-stained-clad gloved, while your digits and fingertips daubing the seeds as you sprinkle them in their own individual pots, besides flowerbeds' peculiar zone.

Whilst managing to hunker down past the flowerbed of dwindled lilacs, the twitch of your curled toes into your plain pair of pitch-black sneakers scarcely caught you off guard and teasingly goaded you to flinch at the hypodermic transgression of your very muscles. The once enticingly breathtaking lilacs whose unblemished glossiness glimmered past your E/C bijous fixated on your utter focus's target petered out its delightfully deluxe luster partnering its unsacredly villainous, enchanting fragrance wafting sorely afflictively into your tiny, flexible nostrils. Your baby blue plastic gloved fingers dawdled to usher to scoop its amenable ball of soil followed by its troop of dwindled flowers at last.

"Aw, look at ya, my baby doll!" The haphazardness of the former religious woman of the cloth diabolically stealthy sneaking behind you as her fleetly strong, awe-inspiringly dainty fingers waltzed circa its flower crown rendered by medley of crimson violets, gold daffodils and oyster-white tulips shortly after spending a couple of minutes knitting neatly sly every strand of flower to format its exquisitely precious present for you. The rabidly rapid acceleration of your heart pulses barked savagely underneath your ribcage's stable armor and the eloquently beatific quiet hum behind you kept your wits about your girlfriend's very presence escorting you diligently reassuring. "Gorgeous as always, my lovely princess!" A lazily benevolent, broadly grin decorated the older lady's porcelain, elderly young-looking façade once you sensed twain of dainty fingers adjusting its flower crown to brace the crown of your head at last.

"Y-You did this for me while I was-" In the meantime, the mass of controversial syllables and vowels blood-curdlingly obdurate dueled one another for pure domination to structure your impending meow expelled from your mouth until it diminished into a sheepishly heartwarming stutter curling your upper roseate lip and straightening your posture momentarily, whilst pursuing childishly excited for your girlfriend's gorgeously untouchable, divinely awe-inspiring honey brown bijous.

"Shu, shu, shu, sweetie! Not all queens and princesses are wearing crowns, howsoever, I just want ya to have a special one by me as you are the only princess of mine!" The strong-willed attempts to maintain an adequately megawatt eye contact as you managed to claw gently her white-knuckledly rigid knuckles' highlands with your digits, thus you grasped her elvish, marbled hands into your secure, invitingly doting grapple and peppering her fists with series of beatifically angelic, feather-soft kisses. "And my only princess that I have always loved than anything!"

"I love you way more than anything, my sweetheart and everything!"

"I love you more than you can even picture, Y/N!" Then you sealed the meager inch of distance you traded with each other shortly after smashing your rosy-coloured mouths into a heatedly steamy kiss, whilst wrenching shut your eyelids as your facial muscles crinkled and constricted at the relentlessly remorseless manipulation.