#[gentle brooding music]

[fleetwormmac]

hey i’m zendaya and i’m convinced the government is watching me and also stealing my garbage cans. (help!)

darkrocm

[gonetoheaven]

i glow within your encircling light

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 

“Want apple!”

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.

[julietsbody]

thinking of luke finding his best friend high at one of those parties they secretly hold at camp… 

semi inspired by murdrdocs’ blurb abt smoking w luke & princessbrunette’s blurb abt jj finding his innocent friend high!!

typically luke never came to these, he was never really a party person, just until you’re texting him some sloppy words that barely make any sense— so now he’s weaving his way through the mess of trees towards the booming music in the distance. did they know how to not get caught? 

luke’s nose scrunches as soon as he gets close enough to make out where you might be in that bright pink skirt he always saw you in, his steps move faster, especially since you’re talking to some asshole from the hades cabin. his jaw shifts as soon as he plants his hands on your shoulders, pupils cinched as he glares at the man you’re speaking with. 

“oh, hey, luke!” you smile so sweet, a little too sweet, in fact, you smell.. he blinks once, then again, then again. to be honest, you don’t really remember texting luke, and it’s always a pleasant surprise to see him appear out of nowhere.

“hey, uh, lets go, yeah?” his hands are gentle when they move you to take a step or two back from the brooding man who clearly looks disappointed, if not a little agitated, with luke’s arrival. 

“but ‘m having fun, do you want to meet my friend? this is my friend—“ 

“yeah, yeah,” luke stares at the man for a second, “hey, dude, ‘kay, time to go.” 

“seems like she doesn’t want to,” the man suddenly speaks, and it should be a blessing from hades himself that luke doesn’t have his sword strapped to his belt. 

“seems like she does since she texted me,” his tone is firmer, a certain bitterness and bite to it, “should be lucky ‘m too busy to rip that smartass smirk off your face.” 

the last sentence comes out as a mumble as he gently guides you away from the party, having to take more of a precaution than usual since you’re stumbling an awful lot. god, how much did you smoke. 

“why’d you say that to him—“ 

“mmm, no reason— hey.. jus’ asking but, you didn’t get that weed from one of the guys there, right?” you seemed much more than just high, unless you smoked like, five blunts— gods, did you? 

“no, nono, got it from um.. lucy, she said it was reaaaalllyyyy strong but like— i only smoked a little,” he hums along to your non - stop giggles, failing to keep his hands from your shoulders since every time he lets go you nearly walk into a tree. 

“yeah, yup, jus’ a little, you know, uh.. you could always just ask to smoke with me,” he shrugs like it’s simple. 

“wooow, you smoke..?” you ask very slowly all of a sudden. 

“what, you think ‘m not cool enough to?” he tuts, steering you to the hermes cabin, which is of course, empty as it always is. you were sure the hermes kids were all dead by now since every time you’re in the cabin it’s vacant, well, besides chris, but he’s always glaring at luke and leaving to bother clarisse. 

“not what i said—“ you frown up at him, and he just nods, moving to sit you down on his bed as he inspects your face to make sure you’re solely high on weed— you really do reek of it, gosh, maybe he should spray his cologne on you. he doesn’t get more time to think before you’re pawing at him, “miss you, luke, talk to me.” 

he chuckles at the hazy glint in your eyes, “c’mon, princess, ‘m not the man for that job.” 

you hook a finger around one of the belt loops on his jeans, tugging him in closer, “what do you mean?” 

“‘m your friend,” it comes out hushed, breathy, “jus’ here to take care of you.” 

“so take care of me,” your eyes catch on to the bulge forming in his pants, a lazy smile curving your lips upwards. 

he pauses for a second, considering, before unhooking your hand from his pants and moving you to lay down on his bed, “time to get some beauty sleep, yeah? g’na get me in trouble if you keep acting out, princess.” 

[thelov3lybookworm]

Lucien and Night Court Emissary Reader who were falling in love pre-UTM but she had to break it off/start being cold to keep the cruel High Lord and Court ruse up/Velaris secret safe. Now he's come back with Feyre and sees the truth, is being rejected by Elain, and Reader can't bear to watch him pine after someone who doesn't want him when she's still miserably in love with him.

Angsty but happy ending please ❤️

Anything.

Summary: She's ready to do anything to get him back.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: babes. anon. my darling baby. marry me plis. i LOVED THIS IDEA so much i wasnt ready to write it because i thought i might never do it justice, but i think i like how this thing came out, so thank you thank you THANK YOU anon for this request 🥹🥹🥹

anywas, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n watched him watch her.

Elain.

Soft, gentle Elain.

Nice, beautiful Elain.

Inconsiderate, unaware Elain.

Elain, who either did no care for who she hurt with her lack of decision making skills, or she genuinely had no idea that she was hurting her mate as she strung him along. Maybe it was just because of the sheltered and happy life Nesta provided for Elain, always keeping her away from the harsh truths of life, and while Y/n had admired that habit of her new friend, she could not help but resent her a little for it.

Y/n took a slow sip of the wine she held in her hand as she stared down from the dimly lit balcony at the ballroom floor, the twirling and swaying couples, wondering how the hell Lucien had changed so much.

So much that he'd gone from being hounded by pretty females falling at his feet and shoving their breasts in his face to get him to give them attention to begging for attention from someone that probably would not be able to tell if she was paining someone.

With a sigh, Y/n made to turn away, deciding that the sweet obliviousness was better than drowning herself in wine and bitter jealousy.

She felt his presence a moment before she smelled the night court high lord.

"Sister." He stepped forward, leaning his elbows onto the balustrade next to her. "Who hurt you?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, immediately relaxing in the presence of her older brother. "What makes you think someone hurt me?"

"Oh, are you telling me that you've decided to take up Azriel's job of brooding and glaring at people from a dark corner just for fun?"

Y/n said nothing, her eyes flitting all over the dance floor absently before settling on a head of fiery red that stood against the far wall, holding a champagne flute.

Rhys turned his head to glance at her when she sad nothing, then followed her gaze. "Oh. Did he kill your cat?"

Y/n released a frustrated breath. "Rhys."

"What?!"

"I don't have a cat."

"Oh my, I am sorry your highness."

Y/n was tempted to shove her middle finger in his face, and he might have read it on her face, as he huffed out a laugh. "Sorry. But come on. What happened? You know that you can tell me anything, right?"

Y/n turned away from the view she had been staring at, instead leaning her back against the railing, letting her head fall back as her arms came to rest on the expensive wood of the balustrade.

"I do."

Silence settled around the two siblings, comfortable and welcome, heavy with internal thoughts, filled with the music from the orchestra in the corner and soft humming from Rhys.

Before long, Y/n started humming along with him, almost subconsciously. She hadn't even realised it until after a few moments, and she smiled at the wall she now stared at.

"Y/n. I've known for quite some time now that you have been hiding something from me. If there's anything I can do for you and whatever you are doing, then please let me know. You don't have to tell me what it is-"

"It's Elain."

Rhys fell quiet, and Y/n sighed. "Come. Let's go somewhere more... private."

Rhys followed her quietly down the stairs and out into the hallway, letting her lead him to her room.

He did not ask anymore questions, nor did he speak, but Y/n could feel the intrigue and curiosity rolling off of him.

Y/n did not speak even when the two of them arrived to her bedroom, walking over to the small cupboard in the corner she stashed her favourite drinks in, including pineapple juice and champagne. She also kept a bottle of whiskey there in case her brother decided to give her a visit.

"So... what happened with Elain?" Rhys spoke as Y/n was pouring him a glass of whiskey, and Y/n steeled her resolve. There was no way she could keep it to herself anymore, because if she did, she would very likely explode.

And anyways, this was her brother. She could tell him anything.

"So... you remember how you sent me to that spring court ball to represent night court?"

Rhys nodded, his attention rapt.

"Yeah well, I met Lucien for the first time there." Y/n busied herself by popping open the bottle of some bubbling champagne, letting it slowly trickle out and into the flute she held, her eyes fixed on the little bubbles that floated from the bottom of the glass.

"He, of course, being the charming male he is, got me running after him. We talked that night. We talked till it was morning, till we knew I needed to return or else you would worry." Y/n smiled softly as she remembered the way she had made Lucien laugh till he was telling her to shut up because his stomach hurt.

"Oh." Y/n could see the pieces falling in place for her brother.

"Everytime after that when I told you I was going out to party all night, I was just travelling to the outskirts of spring court and just talking with him the whole night." Y/n blinked away the prickling in her eyes at that. "I started to fall for him, and he reciprocated."

Y/n let that marinate in the air a little before continuing.

"But then Amarantha came, took his eye. He pulled away, drawing into himself and shutting off anyone who tried to comfort him."

"But how come I never saw you with him?"

Y/n smiled sadly. "He had returned to spring with Tam, and I was trapped under the mountain. When he did visit, he would always hide in shame because he thought I would hate him after he lost his eye." She downed the rest of the liquor left in her glass, grimacing. "He did approach me once, and I..."

"Fuck." Rhys mumbled under his breath after a moment of silence, staring at her. "You told him to leave you alone, didn't you?"

Y/n closed her eyes, leaning back into her chair. He cursed again.

"He probably thought it was because of his eye. Or maybe that I was playing him all along. I don't know why, but he accepted it. Did not fight back. I let him believe it. I did not want him to get any more unnecessary unwanted attention from Amarantha. That was the only way that felt right."

Y/n opened her eyes to find Rhys bowed, his elbows resting on his knees as he clutched his head in frustration. "Fuck Y/n. I thought you were smarter than that."

Y/n sighed. "Apparently not."

Rhys reached out to grab the bottle of whiskey from the low table in front of them, drinking directly from the bottle.

Y/n simply watched him.

"Why are you getting so worked up over this? I thought you didn't like Lucien?"

Even just saying his name made her heart ache in longing.

Rhys stayed silent for a moment before standing, extending his hand towards her. "I might dislike him, but I can tell how much you like him. And your happiness comes above all else."

When Y/n stared at him and his hand, unmoving, he wiggled his fingers. "Come on, let's go get you your knight in shining armour."

Y/n's eyes widened. "What?"

He gave her a wicked grin. "Trust me baby sister."

Y/n thought over it for a moment. She knew whatever her brother's unhinged brain had come up with would probably be uncomfortable, but it would definitely help her out.

So, with an exasperated sigh, she stood, slipping her hand into his. "For everyone's sake, Rhys, I hope that whiskey hasn't gotten to your head yet and that you are not planning something stupid."

"Me? Stupid?" His grin widened. "Never."

Now that, concerned Y/n.

•○🌑○•

Y/n knew she made a mistake when trusting Rhys the moment he led her to a secluded room in the house of wind.

He opened the door, shoved her in and then locked it behind her. She turned, slamming her fists on the door as she cursed at him. He only laughed, telling her to wait and be patient.

Y/n huffed, folding her arms across her chest as she took in the room he had brought her to.

It was a cosy, intimate place, with a circular table in the center of the room, two chairs on opposite sides of it. There was a huge spread of food on it, most of it she'd already seen in the living room earlier in the evening.

The entirety of the room was covered in nothing but candles, giving the darkened room a soft, romantic glow. And slowly, things started clicking for Y/n.

Rhys had gone to get Lucien.

Shit.

Y/n whipped around, frantically searching for a way out.

While she was still in love with him, in no way was she ready for the confrontation.

She knew he hated her for breaking his heart. There was no way he didn't. She hated herself for it. She did not know how she would go about apologising without it looking like she only wanted him after he'd found someone better.

The glass doors leading to the balcony were thrown wide open, the soft gauzy curtains fluttering gently in the breeze. Y/n stared out at the night sky mournfully. She had taken more after her father than her mother, and so while her brother was half illyrian and could summon wings, she could not.

Now, more than ever, Y/n cursed her father for not being a winged male.

The door was locked, and winnowing was out of the question. Begging someone to let her out would tire her out and make her get angrier, so that had to be scratched out too.

Looking around defeatedly as she accepted her fate, Y/n found a full body length mirror against a far wall.

Meeting her own eyes, Y/n walked closer, knowing that her brother would have left no exit way for her to run from the situation at hand. So there was only one thing she could do, and that was prepare herself.

She studied her own figure, turning this way and that as she smoothed down the nonexistent wrinkles from the skirts of her dark maroon gown that reminded her of Lucien in all his glory.

"You can do this." Y/n muttered in the silence of the room, staring intensely at herself as she pushed back her shoulders and took in a deep breath. "He deserves to know."

Not a moment later, the sound of a lock clicking open echoed through the room, and Y/n winced, turning in time to see Lucien stumbling in and then the door being pulled shut.

He grumbled under his breath, fixing and pulling on his sleeves. He glanced up, then stilled, his eyes filled with surprise.

"Y/n." He addressed her as he straightened.

"Lucien..." He stared at her, his eyes slowly and leisurely roaming her figure. The look in his eyes was just like the way he used to look at her fifty years ago, when everything had been right, perfect. It made Y/n blush, and she had to swallow in an attempt to peel her tongue off of the roof of her mouth. "How- how have you been?"

He met her eyes. "I've been good. Good enough to not die I guess. How about you?"

Y/n swallowed the guilt climbing up her throat like bile. Maybe it was bile. Damn, should not have drank that champagne. "I'm good. As good as I can be without you-"

"Don't."

Y/n looked down at the floor, her blush increasing in embarrassment as he took a look around the room, his golden eye clicking softly. "I'm sorry-"

Then his eyes flew to hers, accusation written in every angle of his beautiful face as his metal eye whirred. "Why did he bring me here?"

Y/n swallowed. "I- if you're saying that I made him drag you here, stop. I did not tell him to bring you here."

Lucien glanced around the room again with a skeptical look. "So he just decided that putting the two of us in the same room with such a setting would be funny?"

Y/n closed her eyes, forcing herself to speak the truth. "I... was just talking to Rhys and he found out that we were seeing each other before under the mountain happened, and he did this by himself."

Lucien scoffed, making her open her eyes to look at him. "And did he tell you why?"

"Lucien-"

"Of course, his brother's happiness matters far more than a bond to him. I just know he's doing this to keep me away from Elain to give Azriel a chance-"

"My brother is strictly against Azriel and Elain getting together-"

"Oh yes, your brother is a fucking saint who can never-"

"Lucien!"

He turned away with an incredulous laugh, walking to the balcony and leaning against the railing. "You've made your feelings very clear Y/n. You've hurt me enough for one lifetime. Leave me alone now. Let me wallow in hope and defeat."

Y/n followed him out. "You don't have to wallow alone." She mumbled, her voice quiet.

"And who will be with me? Feyre? Elain? You?" He laughed, a humourless sound that shot sadness straight to Y/n's heart like a bolt. "I'm always meant to be alone."

Y/n's heart broke right alongside his voice. "Lucien that's not the case."

"Then tell me what is, because as I see it, everyone seems set on hurting me or leaving me. Tell me. Tell me what the case is."

Y/n looked away from him, staring out over the twinkling light of the rainbow and the snake like Sidra cutting through Velaris.

He huffed, his disappointment evident as he followed her gaze. "Exactly."

Y/n was silent for a moment, contemplating the best way to explain without having him leave.

The best answer was to let all her thoughts free.

So she took a deep breath, composing herself, and began in a soft, calm voice.

"I still love you, more than anyone ever could. I hope you know that." Y/n felt his gaze returning to rest on her face, but she did not look away from the glittering Sidra, knowing she would lose her nerve if she did.

"Amarantha? She had taken a special interest in Rhys and me. Anyone who was found even remotely close to us, whether it be a courtier or someone we just talked to that day, ended up dead, tortured and beaten."

She swallowed, trying to not let those memories resurface. "You also had dug up your own grave. What were you thinking, telling her to crawl back to the hole she crawled out of?"

She finally removed her eyes from the Sidra, using them to glare at her past lover. He was not deterred, lifting his chin as he turned his body to face her fully.

"Nothing other than the urge to get you to safety. I was dumb. I know. But I don't regret it. Even if it cost me my eye." With a meaningful look, he mumbled out softly. "But it was no use, as it cost me you too."

Y/n stared at him, her nervousness long forgotten. "Lucien... why do you think I told you to leave me alone?"

"Because I lost my eye?"

Her eyes widened, and her brain practically stopped functioning. All she could do was whisper, "What?"

He gave her a look. "What? You told me to leave you-"

"Lucien I- no." She facepalmed, releasing a frustrated sigh. "No Lucien. That was not the reason why."

Lucien shifted uncomfortably, not saying anything. "I- thank you?"

Despite her efforts, a smile made its way onto her face, and she slapped his chest. "You dumbass. I pushed you away because I did not want Amarantha and her cronies targeting you because of our relationship."

Lucien blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Y/n sighed. "Look Lucien. I... I know there were better ways to tell you to stay away, but I knew you would try your best to stop me from my instincts to protect you, and when you did not put up much of a fuss or even ask me for a reason, I thought you'd been waiting to get rid of me."

Lucien laughed then, a soft, pained but genuine sound. "Looks like we need to learn how to communicate."

Y/n smiled up at him, her eyes prickling a little.

He said nothing for a long time, just staring at her, his eyes swirling with an emotion that Y/n desperately wanted to name but was too scared to.

Y/n waited for him to speak, to move, to do something, with bated breath. He just looked away, releasing a breath.

"Lucien?"

He shook his head.

Concerned, Y/n went to touch his arm.

He recoiled, an Y/n instantly pulled her hand back, her heart breaking again.

"I- I didn't mean to make you uncomfotable-"

"No."

Y/n paused. "Um... No?"

"Why Y/n? Why now?"

"Because I can't watch you pine for someone who does not care while I'm still miserably in love with you!"

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on something in the far distance. "That's not- no. Y/n, I... you know I'm a mated male now."

Y/n reared back like he'd slapped her, and if she was being honest, it would have been better if he dd, because there was nothing in the world that hurt more than hearing that.

Y/n stared at him, trying not to feel betrayed.

"You- you're not mated, Lucien."

His jaw clenched, but he remained quiet.

"You, are not, a mated male-"

"Well I know that-"

"Then why do you pretend that you are unavailable for anyone-"

"I have a mate now-"

"Who does not want you!" Y/n screamed, her chest heaving. A dark look crossed his face, and his eyes hardened as he turned away.

"Thanks for the reminder that I'm unwanted, Y/n. Its almost like I'd forgotten."

Y/n kicked herself mentally, reaching for him. "Lucien, I did not mean that-"

"Oh you for sure did. Don't lie." He mumbled softly as he was stepped through the threshold into the warm interior of the house, like he was defeated, and Y/n wished that he'd screamed at her, fought with her, because that would definitely have been better than this torture of watching his shoulders curve inwards.

She stepped forward, her dress swishing around her legs, tears slipping out of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She pressed her cheek into the defined muscles of his back, knowing her tears were going to stain the fine threads of his navy blue jacket.

"Lucien please." Her voice broke as she spoke, and he froze, letting her squeeze him tighter with every sob that ripped through her.

The two of them remained in that embrace for far too long and not long enough, unmoving and unspeaking, the only sounds her soft cries and his breaths.

With a jolt, Y/n realised he was crying too.

"Lucien, I need you. I need you so bad." She turned her head, digging her face harder into his back.

He took a deep breath, his chest expanding under her fingers from where they'd climbed up his body as the two of them cried.

"Y/n-"

"No. No, let me finish." Y/n sniffled, trying to get her voice to stop wobbling. "I love you Lucien, and it pains me greatly to see you get hurt by her."

"I'm used to it by now." He whispered. If it was even possible, her arms tightened around him more.

"Lucien I love you. I need you back. Come back to me, let her go." Y/n cried.

"It's not that simple my love."

Y/n's heart- whatever shattered remains were left in her chest by this point- froze at the term of endearment. He didn't even seem to notice.

Y/n just absorbed and basked in the normalcy in which he spoke, as if the two of them were back when everything had been okay fifty years ago. As if the last fifty years had never happened.

Like the two of them were not standing so close but were still so far away from each other.

"It could be if you wanted it to be." Y/n mumbled into his back, wondering if there was any way she could press closer still.

He sighed, his body relaxing as he let his head fall back. Then he turned.

Y/n had to force herself to breathe so as not to pass out as his eyes met hers again. They now swirled with so much more emotions than they had before.

He lifted his hand silently, letting his fingers trace the apple of her cheeks.

She did not let her arms fall from where they were now wrapped around his waist.

Moments passed.

Months, years, millenia.

Still, they stood in their embrace, quiet, lost in thoughts in the arms of the person they loved most, sacred bond or not, the moment only broken by him parting his lips to speak.

Y/n tracked the action eagerly.

"I... guess you're right."

Y/n blinked, her brain slow to process as she was so busy trying not to bite the soft flesh of his lips.

When she realised what he said though, her eyes flew to his, alert.

"What?"

He swallowed. "I just have to... tell her she can be free. That I won't bother her again. That will do it, right?"

Y/n blinked again, shocked at how easily he'd agreed.

He rose a brow at her.

"What, you think I don't love you still?" Her lips parted in shock at that, and his lips lifted at one corner. "You will need more than a few harsh words to make me hate you-"

Y/n did not let him finish.

His lips were soft against hers, moving in a rhythm more familiar to Y/n than the back of her own hand. And the fact that he kissed her back without any hesitation made her melt.

And, maybe, if possible, fall more in love with him.

The both of them were reluctant to pull away, but air was also a necessity, as much as Y/n was loathe to admit it.

She blinked open her eyes, finding him already staring at her, a small quirk to his lips and a blush on his face.

She smiled up at him shyly, as if she just hadn't been the one to initiate the kiss. She tried to hide her face in his neck, just like she used to do before, but he caught her chin between his fingers.

Just like he used to do before.

He grinned at her, nudging his nose against hers. "Look at that facade, getting all shy."

"Shut up." She mumbled.

His smile softened.

"We might have to start all over again."

She straightened, nodding. "I know. I'm ready to do anything it takes."

He smirked at her. "Anything?"

She matched his expression, standing on her toes to kiss his nose to emphasize her point.

"Anything."

•○🌑○•

Whore hive (because yall bitches need to read this): @artists-ally @thehighladywrites @berryzxx @clairebear08 @riddlesb1tch @cupidojenphrodite

General taglist Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175 @starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Lucien Vanserra Taglist: @mirandasidefics @fell-in-luvs

[aemondsquill]

In Honor's Name

Aemond Targaryen × Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Your new husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen, is truly an enigma. While he is cold and dismissive, he also proves to be quite the formidable protector of his lady wife

A/N: reader is from an unspecified House and has no physical descriptions

Warnings: Aemond's rizz is atrocious, violence, toxic relationship, hurt/comfort, Aemond IS a WIFE GUY, slight angst, floooof, implications of smut

Aemond Targaryen was not known for wearing his heart on his sleeve; actually it was quite the contrary, much to the dismay of his brand new wife. Attempting any form of conversation with the man was like yanking nails. He only gave one word answers or hum in response.

However, while he was not gifted in the arts of wooing his wife with his words, Y/N appreciated just how physically attentive he was. A gentle hand on her lower back when he guided her through the halls of the Keep, his fingers resting on her knee during long dinners, or his presence looming over her shoulder at banquets and feasts. These touches were the only indication that he even tolerated her.

----

Y/N was in no mood for the festivities laid out before her. Aegon decided to throw another feast for whichever unknown Lord's nameday or birth of an heir or perhaps he was just bored. Aemond, as always, was seated next to her. If he had not helped Y/N into her own seat, she would not even had known that he was there. The silence between them seemed to be even more stifling than the obnoxious noises of merriment that echoed through the great hall.

Y/N glared at the couples dancing, envious that they seemed to be enjoying themselves. She learned the hard way that Aemond does not dance. A sharp 'no' from his lips when she invited him to dance on their wedding day was enough to discourage her from ever asking again.

'How lucky am I to be married to such a bland brooding man?' She thought scornfully. He was confusing with his gentle touches, but harsh words and Y/N was done trying to figure him out. She would only do her duty: be a loyal wife and produce an heir or two. It wasn't much of a life, but there were worse ways to live.

Y/N reached for her cup, full of a dark Dornish red, and drank it greedily. The wine was delightfully bitter on her tongue.

Soon enough, a buzz flowed through her veins like warmed honey and made her brain slightly heavy. Y/N's spirits were lifted as the music swelled and the laughter all around her felt contagious.

With a new surge of confidence, Y/N turned to her ever-stoic husband. He eyed her curiously at her sudden movement.

"I supposed I shan't ask you for a dance, Lord husband, allow me to take my leave so I may find a willing partner." Without waiting for a response, Y/N shot out of her seat and grasped her velvety skirts and stalked towards Tyland Lannister.

Aemond's mouth gaped, slightly resembling a fish plucked out of the water. He could only watch helplessly as his wife, giggling and eyes shining, began an elegant waltz with the Lannister.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped his fork tightly, jealousy boiling in his chest at the site of Tyland gripping his wife's waist and twirling her about.

Perhaps Aemond deserved to watch his wife fall for another. He knew he had not been a doting husband, but at least he wasn't cruel. He just felt uncomfortable expressing his affection for his Y/N!

Aemond would not accept the consequences of his own actions. She was his and everyone in the Keep would know it, especially that slimy cunt Tyland.

His anger was only spurred on when he watched the Lannister grip Y/N's arm tightly and whisper a salacious secret into her ear. Her face contorted in offense, causing Aemond to nearly leap over the table in front of him.

In a split second, Aemond was nose to nose with blond Lannister.

"I will fucking tear your eyes out of your head and force them down your throat if you so much as glance at my wife again." Even Y/N felt the chill of fear tingle her spine at Aemond's threat. Tyland only smirked at the brutal confrontation. Copious amounts of wine and ale only made Tyland more bold. And foolish.

Aemond placed his hand on the small of her back, more forcefully than usual.

"Come, wife, allow me to escort you to your chambers."

"Perhaps if you weren't such a frigid cunt maybe your wife wouldn't seek company elsewhere. Leave her to me and trust she will be taken care of."

Y/N felt the surge of humiliation warm her cheeks at Tyland's horrific words. The anger rolled off Aemond's shoulders in heavy waves as Tyland tugged Y/N back into his chest and continued his vicious tirade.

"Unhand my wife and I shall reward you with a swift death."

"I heard your wife has the sweetest cunt in Westeros", his nose grazed along her neck, inhaling her scent. "I wish to taste her."

A vile glint flashed across Aemond's violet eye and in an instant he yanked Y/N out of Tyland's arms, tossing her carelessly as he pursued the Lannister further.

Y/N yelped as she stumbled to the stony floor. She could only watch in horror as her husband's hands wrapped around Tyland's throat so hard that the veins bulged.

"I am the only one who will taste my wife's cunt."

Tyland's face turned red, then blue, then an ugly shade of purple as Aemond's hands slowly squeezed the life out of him. Tyland feebly attempted to grip Aemond's arms, chest, anything he could get his hands on as he crumpled to the floor.

"She tastes of the sweetest honey. She will only bear my heirs. She is mine and only mine." Y/N couldn't help the feeling of her cheeks flush at Aemond's obscene flattery.

Aemond did not let up his assault. Instead, the bulging of Lord Lannister's eyes seemed to egg him on to press harder and harder.

Y/N shouted for the nearby guards to stop her husband from killing his House's ally.

It took nearly four men to wretch Aemond away from the scoundrel. Once he stood he shrugged off their hands and immediately stalked towards Y/N. Her eyes widened in fear as she stumbled backwards slightly. Her flinch halted Aemond in his tracks briefly, a pang rattled his chest painfully. His little display of violence and jealousy only scared his beloved wife.

Aemond took a couple more steps, this time with caution so as not to frighten her more before placing his hand on her back.

"Let us retire, little wife." And she allowed him to guide her back to her chambers in silence.

The winding corridors allowed her to replay the scene over and over in her head. Never had she seen Aemond react to anything in such a way. Nor had he spoken this many words to her in the few months they had been married.

They reached the large oak doors of Y/N's chambers and Aemond ushered her inside.

"You should not have done that. You could have killed him."

Aemond regarded her coldly, "I wish I did. I wish everyone in that hall witnessed me killing him." Y/N rolled her eyes at his stubbornness. Aemond approached her and reached for her hand, but she pulled away before speaking sternly at him.

"No. You do not get to touch me after embarrassing your House like that and nearly killing a man!"

"I was defending your honor! Tis my duty as your husband!" He snarled. He reached out and grabbed at her again, this time pulling her into his chest and she squirmed against him.

"Stop resisting me. I wish to hold my wife and I shall do so!"

Never had Aemond been so vocal and obvious about his affection towards her. It threw Y/N into a whirlwind of emotion.

Finally, she stopped fighting against him and met his glare with her own. The two breathed heavily against each other, neither used to such intimate proximity outside of fucking.

"I have been damned by the gods to love you."

Y/N scoffed. "I never knew you could be so romantic. First you nearly kill a man, now you're saying you hate loving me."

Aemond closed his eye and sighed, mentally kicking himself for his fumbled words. His arm tightend around her waist. Y/N was annoyed at the warmth that flooded her chest at the feeling.

"I love you, little wife. So much so, my words seemed to escape me, but it's true. In the short time we've been married I have fallen deeper than I can possibly fathom. It frightens me. Seeing Tyland Lannister put his hands on you drove me to the brink of madness. I would kill a thousand men and their widows if you asked me to."

Y/N's eyes softened at his clumsy declaration. In his own strange and murderous way, he held a great affection for her and Y/N's heart melted at the thought.

She brushed a lock of hair out of his eye, sighing.

"You know you cannot kill every man who speaks to me."

"I know, but I can kill most of them." She chuckled at his attempt at a jest.

Aemond found himself not able to resist any longer. He kissed her soft supple lips with fervor. Y/N moaned softly in delight.

"I have to make good on a promise I made to that Lannister cunt, little wife."

[voidpetrova]

fading boundaries — jeremy gilbert x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genres: swearing, possessiveness, slut-shaming — fluff

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: jeremy never should've allowed himself to fall for you. he was a hunter, and it went against his beliefs to fall for you, a vampire. his jealousy and hatred only grow when he sees that you've caught everybody's attention, not just his

✧.*

the moon hung low in the sky, casting a gentle silver glow upon the quiet streets of mystic falls. jeremy leaned against a lamppost, his gaze fixed on the mansion that stood at the edge of the town. his heart raced, a conflicted maelstrom of emotions swirling within him. he had never thought he'd find himself in this position, torn between duty and desire.

it had all started with a chance encounter. an innocent moment that had ignited a spark he couldn't ignore. you, a vampire, had entered his life, weaving a complex tapestry of emotions that jeremy struggled to unravel. his heart despised itself for succumbing to feelings he'd been taught to reject.

jeremy was a vampire hunter, trained in the art of tracking and eliminating the supernatural creatures that prowled the night. it was a duty passed down through generations of his family, a legacy that weighed heavily on his shoulders. but destiny had a way of blurring lines, and now he found himself drawn to the very beings he was supposed to hunt.

his thoughts were a whirlwind of self-loathing and confusion. every stolen glance, every shared moment—each one etched deeper into his soul. the undeniable truth was that he was falling in love with you, a vampire, an existence that clashed with everything he believed in.

and what stung even more was the knowledge that he wasn't the only one who held your attention. damon salvatore, with his devilish charm and enigmatic allure, had a way of commanding the room whenever he entered. and then there was stefan, the brooding and tortured soul, whose longing gaze seemed to pierce through the darkness straight into your heart.

jealousy gnawed at jeremy's insides, a bitter taste that he tried to ignore. he had seen the way you interacted with the salvatore brothers—moments that seemed to play out like a dance of secrets and shared histories. it made him question his place in your life, a place that seemed minuscule in comparison.

as he stood there in the moonlit night, jeremy's fingers clenched around the pendant that hung around his neck—a symbol of his lineage, a reminder of his duty. but the more he tried to push you away, the tighter the invisible thread between you two seemed to become.

his internal struggle was far from over, and the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty. little did he know that the intricate web of emotions and choices would lead him down a path of self-discovery, testing the boundaries of love, jealousy, and the blurred lines between right and wrong.

the salvatore mansion's grand ballroom was aglow with soft candlelight, casting dancing shadows on the ornate walls. it was one of those rare occasions when the town's supernatural residents and humans mingled under the same roof, an uneasy truce that brought tension to the air.

jeremy watched from a distance as the guests swirled around, their laughter and music blending into a symphony of decadence. his gaze shifted to you, standing near the center of the room, your elegance and beauty drawing the eye of everyone present, including his.

he clenched his jaw, a mix of emotions surging within him. tonight, he had told himself, would be different. he would keep his jealousy in check and try to find a way to coexist with the knowledge that he wasn't the only one vying for your attention. but fate had other plans.

stefan salvatore, his usually composed façade replaced with a smile that could charm even the most steadfast hearts, approached you. jeremy's heart tightened as he observed the scene unfolding before him.

“may i have this dance?” stefan's voice held a velvety quality that seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace.

you smiled, your eyes meeting his. “of course, stefan.”

as you and stefan swayed to the rhythm of the music, jeremy's fingers clenched into fists at his sides. he had seen this before, the way stefan had an uncanny ability to draw people in, to make them feel like they were the center of the universe. but right now, it was you who had his attention, and that was something jeremy was finding increasingly difficult to accept.

he turned away, his breath coming in short, frustrated bursts. he walked briskly toward the balcony, seeking the solace of the cool night air. the night sky stretched out before him, stars twinkling overhead like distant, unattainable dreams.

“hey.”

the voice behind him made jeremy's muscles tense. he turned to find damon leaning casually against the balcony railing, a glass of bourbon in his hand.

“damon,” jeremy muttered, his tone guarded.

damon arched an eyebrow, his lips curving into a half-smile. “trouble in paradise?”

jeremy's jaw tightened, but he remained silent.

damon took a sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on jeremy. “you know, jealousy doesn't suit you, kid.”

jeremy's eyes flickered with a mix of irritation and vulnerability. “what do you know about it?”

damon's gaze softened slightly. “more than you might think. look, there's a lot you don't understand about this world, about us.”

jeremy's fists clenched again, his frustration mounting. “and what? you're here to offer me some kind of wisdom?”

damon's tone turned serious. “i'm here to remind you that life's too short to let jealousy eat you alive. if you care about her, you'll figure out a way to deal with it. otherwise, you're just gonna end up miserable.”

jeremy's anger was replaced by a mix of resignation and realization. he stared out at the night sky, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.

as the party continued inside, jeremy took a deep breath, letting damon's words sink in. it was a battle within himself that he needed to confront—a battle between his feelings for you and the jealousy that threatened to consume him.

jeremy's frustration simmered beneath the surface, an undercurrent of emotions that he struggled to contain. he turned his gaze back to the ballroom, his eyes finding you still dancing with stefan. the jealousy that had been a constant companion flared into something more potent—a raging fire that threatened to consume him whole.

he clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to regain his composure. the music seemed to mock him, the cheerful notes contrasting starkly with the turmoil within his heart.

“still having your pity party?”

the voice that interrupted his thoughts was familiar, and yet, it grated on his already frayed nerves. damon had followed him once more in order to keep an eye on him, his piercing gaze assessing jeremy's clenched stance.

his jaw tightened, his resentment aimed at both damon and the situation. “why do you even care?”

damon's gaze held a mixture of exasperation and something else—something jeremy couldn't quite decipher. he gave a casual shrug. “just thought you could use some company out here. you seem a bit on edge.”

jeremy's frustration bubbled over. “you're not helping, asshole. if you wanna be helpful, stay out of my business.”

damon's eyes glinted mischievously, his lips curling into a faint smile. “oh, come on, don't be like that. it's a party. let loose a little.”

jeremy's patience wore thin, his anger bubbling to the surface. “i don't need your advice, and i definitely don't need you interfering.”

damon's smile only widened, his gaze flickering to the ballroom. “speaking of which—”

before jeremy could react, damon turned away and strolled back into the ballroom. he seamlessly joined you and stefan on the dance floor, his presence commanding attention. jeremy watched as damon skillfully guided you through the dance, his movements smooth and calculated.

stefan's laughter mixed with the music, and you seemed caught between the two salvatore brothers, your eyes flickering between them as you danced.

damon's voice, dripping with charm, reached jeremy's ears as he exchanged flirtatious banter with you. “you know, you really know how to light up the room.”

stefan's response was equally playful, his voice laced with innuendo. “oh, damon, flattery won't get you everywhere.”

you laughed, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “boys, you're both shameless.”

damon's eyes held a challenge as he twirled you. “can you blame us? when a stunning girl like you graces us with her presence?”

stefan chimed in, his fingers brushing against yours. “it's impossible not to be captivated.”

jeremy's anger surged, a mix of jealousy and rage burning within him. he had to clench his fists to keep from storming into the ballroom. the sight of you being courted by both stefan and damon ignited a fire in him that he couldn't ignore.

the dance continued, each word exchanged between you, stefan, and damon stoking jeremy's fury. he felt like an outsider, an observer to a scene that was slowly driving him to the edge.

finally, the dance came to an end, but the tension in the air lingered. damon and stefan shared a knowing smirk, leaving jeremy seething on the balcony.

as the two of them sauntered away, he stood there, his heart racing and his emotions in turmoil. he had never felt so powerless, so consumed by jealousy. the night air did little to soothe his frayed nerves, and he was left grappling with the realization that the battle for your attention was far from over.

the moon cast a silvery glow over the deserted alleyway, the shadows playing tricks on the eyes. jeremy leaned against a brick wall, his jaw clenched as he watched you approach. the tension between you two was palpable, a result of the animosity that had grown between vampire and vampire hunter.

“jeremy,” you greeted, your tone laced with a mix of amusement and condescension. “what brings you to the dark side of town? looking for a quick fix again?”

he shot you a glare, his eyes narrowing. “just figured i'd see what you're up to. not like i've got anything better to do.”

you chuckled softly, your lips curving into a sardonic smile. “ah, the illustrious life of a vampire hunter. must be quite the thrill.”

jeremy's fists tightened, his irritation evident. “more thrilling than a never-ending existence, i'd say.”

you raised an eyebrow, a spark of challenge in your gaze. “at least i don't have to worry about growing old and wrinkled.”

he retorted with a smirk, his sarcasm matching yours. “yeah, immortality does wonders for the complexion.”

the banter continued, each word exchanged between you a careful dance of barbs and retorts. the animosity that had grown between vampire and vampire hunter was a thick fog that enveloped the conversation, masking the underlying currents of tension.

you tilted your head, your tone mocking. “so, what's the plan, jerm? lure me into a trap, perhaps? or maybe you're here to try and convince me to give up my evil ways”

his gaze held a mix of defiance and frustration. “i don't need to convince you of anything. your track record speaks for itself.”

you chuckled, your laughter like a cool breeze on a summer night. “ah, jeremy, always the charmer. it's a wonder you haven't won over every vampire in town with your winning personality.”

his eyes flared with anger, his patience wearing thin. “says the vampire who can't seem to resist dancing with every salvatore brother in sight.”

the mention of the salvatores seemed to strike a chord, your expression flickering for a moment before you masked it with a smirk. “jealousy doesn't suit you, little gilbert. but i must admit, it's quite the entertainment watching you try to keep up.”

he scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “at least i'm not pretending to be something i'm not.”

you took a step closer, your gaze locking onto his. “and what's that, exactly? the tortured soul with a chip on his shoulder?”

jeremy's voice turned cold, his words a dagger aimed at your heart. “better than being a bloodsucking slut.”

you laughed, the sound echoing through the alleyway like a haunting melody. “oh, jeremy, you have no idea what you're missing out on.”

as the tension between you two continued to escalate, the words you exchanged were like a battlefield of wit and resentment. the lines between enemies and allies were blurred, the unspoken emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

and as the moonlight bathed the alley in its silvery glow, the clash of wills between vampire and vampire hunter seemed to echo the timeless struggle between light and darkness.

the low hum of chatter and clinking glasses filled the dimly lit bar, a familiar meeting place for the residents of mystic falls. the entire gang had gathered there for a rare moment of respite, a chance to unwind amid the constant chaos that seemed to engulf their lives.

you stood by the pool table, a cue stick in hand as you lined up your shot. the sharp crack of the balls echoed through the air as you sank one into a corner pocket. stefan, ever the gentleman, approached from behind, a smile playing on his lips.

“nice shot,” he remarked, his voice laced with admiration.

you turned to him, a playful glint in your eyes. “thanks, stef. guess i have a natural talent for handling sticks.”

stefan's grin widened, his charm evident. “oh, i'm sure you do. but the real question is, can you handle the pressure?” you bit your lip, locking eyes with your favorite vampire. “how about you give me some pressure worth handling?”

his laughter mingled with yours, the two of you sharing a moment that seemed to ignite a spark in the air. as you lined up your next shot, the flirtatious exchange continued, the chemistry between you and stefan undeniable.

jeremy, nursing a drink at the bar, watched the scene unfold with a mixture of irritation and jealousy. the snarky remarks you and stefan exchanged felt like a constant reminder of his own frustration, a reminder of the feelings he was desperately trying to suppress.

damon, leaning against the bar beside jeremy, chimed in. “looks like our friend jeremy here could use a bit of that playful banter in his life.”

jeremy shot him a glare. “i'd rather not engage in childish games.”

damon raised an eyebrow, his smirk never fading. “pity, really. you're missing out on all the fun.”

as the night wore on, the tension between you and jeremy seemed to escalate with every sarcastic barb. the energy was thick with resentment and a tangled web of emotions, a battle of words that had become a battlefield of its own.

elena, sensing the growing hostility, exchanged a concerned look with bonnie. with a knowing glance, elena approached her brother, her expression firm yet empathetic. “you need to talk to her, jeremy.”

he looked at her incredulously. “why would i do that?”

elena's gaze softened, her voice gentle. “because this jealousy isn't healthy, and it's only getting worse. you have to be honest with yourself and with her.”

jeremy's gaze hardened, his anger still simmering. “why does it even matter?”

elena's voice was steady. “because you can't keep pretending that your feelings for her don't exist. it's not fair to either of you.”

with a sigh, jeremy leaned against the bar, his defenses crumbling. he watched as you shared another flirtatious smile with stefan, the jealousy gnawing at him like a persistent ache.

finally, he approached you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and frustration. “can we talk?”

you turned to him, your gaze cool but curious. “sure, if you can handle a conversation without your usual bitchiness.”

he nodded, the tension between you two palpable. as you stepped away from the pool table and found a quieter corner, the echoes of the bar's chaos faded into the background.

the corner you found was dimly lit, the ambient noise of the bar fading into a distant murmur as you and jeremy faced each other. the tension between you was increasing, an unspoken storm of emotions swirling in the air.

jeremy cleared his throat, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and determination. “look, i know I've been an asshole, and I've said a lot of things i didn't mean. but the truth is—i've been struggling with something i didn't want to admit.”

you arched an eyebrow, your voice laced with skepticism. “and what's that, jer?”

he took a deep breath, his voice earnest. “i've been jealous. jealous of the attention you get, especially from stefan. i've been hiding my feelings behind snarky comments and sarcasm, but the reality is—i care about you. more than i should.”

your gaze softened, the walls around your heart beginning to crumble. his honesty was unexpected, and it touched something within you that you had been trying to bury.

“you know, jeremy,” you said softly, “it's not easy being a vampire in a world where vampire hunters exist. there's a constant struggle to reconcile who i am with what i've become.”

he nodded, his expression understanding. “i get that. i do. and maybe that's why i've been pushing you away, because i couldn't handle my own conflicting emotions.”

you took a step closer, the distance between you closing. “so, what now?”

jeremy's gaze locked onto yours, his voice steady. “i want to stop pretending. i want to stop fighting what i feel, even if it means admitting that I'm not as strong as i thought.”

a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “that's a start.”

before either of you could say another word, the tension that had been building between you erupted into a fiery passion. his lips crashed against yours, a mixture of longing and pent-up emotions spilling over in the form of a scorching kiss.

the world around you faded into obscurity, leaving only the two of you in that moment. it was a kiss fueled by months of frustration, desire, and a newfound honesty that had broken down the barriers between you.

when the kiss finally ended, you both pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed. the air was charged with electricity, the connection between you stronger than ever before.

“wow,” jeremy muttered, his voice a mixture of surprise and wonder.

you grinned, your heart pounding in your chest. “yeah, wow.”

the weight of unspoken words hung in the air, a promise of what could be if you both chose to let go of the past and embrace the uncertain future.

as you stood there, hand in hand, the possibilities stretched out before you like an open road. the complexities of your emotions were no longer a barrier, but a bridge—a bridge that could lead to something unexpected, something beautiful, and something worth the risk.

[ckret2]

Chapter 31 of human Bill grudgingly enduring being the Pines' prisoner because the Henchmaniacs won't take his call: Summerween night! Everyone gets ridiculous costumes!

The Summerween Trickster's buddies are attempting to resurrect him. Robbie's making a music video. Bill's attempting to woo Ford back into friendship, to terrify Dipper with cursed knowledge, and to recover his dignity from THE most gentle chastising imaginable, and he only succeeds in 1 out of 3 of these endeavors:

It's not this one. He's just gotta process these emotions while wearing that stupid wig.

####

Soos was putting the final touches on his cosplay (the suave and mysterious Masked Guy In A Suit, love interest of the heroine from the classic anime Teenage Planetary Soldier Girls) when he heard the phone ring in the office. "Hold on, I'll get it!" He hurried downstairs, ducked under a construction paper chain Mabel had strung over the door, picked up the phone, and said, "Hello?"

A mysterious voice droned, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

"Oh, no thanks, we don't want any." Soos hung up, sighed happily, and said, "Ah, Summerween. Always brings out the weirdos."

"Hey Soos!" Mabel ducked into the doorway. "Where's the candy bowl?"

"Oh, hey Hambone. It's in my bedroom." He put on a stage whisper. "I put it in there so Bill couldn't steal it."

"Thanks Soos!" She ran upstairs.

Dipper and Bill waited downstairs, the tension thick between them (on Dipper's side, anyway; Bill—watching a black-and-white horror movie, sipping at a can of cider, and brooding over going to voicemail—didn't notice). Dipper was waiting by the door in a folding chair; but he kept glancing toward Bill in the living room. When the silence got too much to bear, he asked, "Okay, what are you dressed as?"

Bill was wearing a brown bedsheet toga (the most historically-accurate part of his costume); a cheap wig of a teased mullet that had ended up mostly red with yellow streaks, forming a plume of hair right over his head and then a long straight tail he'd draped over his shoulder; and a bunch of paper faux-Greek homes taped all around the hem of his toga, forming a ring around his calves.

"And are those my sandals?" Dipper asked.

"Take it up with Mabel, she loaned them on your behalf," Bill said. "I'm not telling my costume. You have to guess it."

"Seriously?" Dipper sighed. It had to be a god, gods towered over their mortals' temples. What god would wear brown? "I don't know—Demeter?"

"What? No. Do I seem like the Demeter type? Pathetic." Bill waved off his guess. As Mabel ran downstairs, Bill said, "Hey, Shooting Star, you haven't made your official guess yet."

Without hesitation, Mabel said, "A time-traveling hair metal singer touring the Roman Empire and trying to find a way home before his hair dye runs out."

"Wrong, but I would love to live in the world you've dreamed up." He meandered into the entryway to join Mabel as she plopped down in the second chair by the door.

Dipper screwed up his face. "Are you helping us answer the door?"

"No, you're helping me answer the door. I'm cursed, remember?" Bill leaned over Mabel's shoulder, dug into the candy bowl, and popped a lollipop in his mouth. "But you're not getting rid of me, if that's what you're asking."

Soos headed to the door, cape billowing dramatically behind him. "Hey dudes. Hey Bill." He paused in the door, studying Bill. "Hey! Is that a Bobo the Uncouth Berserker cosplay?"

Bill blinked. "Who?"

"Bobo the Uncouth Berserker! You've gotta read Bobo. He's this primitive hero descended from lost Lemuria who goes on daring adventures through the lush impenetrable jungles of Central Europe. He's got this comic that was so popular it spawned an anime, which got an American movie adaptation, which formed the basis of a second comic continuity that isn't as critically acclaimed as the original but has drawn in a lot of new fans... and..." Soos petered out. "You're not Bobo, are you."

Bill shook his head. "Thanks for playing."

"Aw." Soos's shoulders slumped. "Anyway—me and Melody are gonna be at the cosplay contest at the theater. I'll keep my phone on in case of monsters."

"We'll be fine!" Mabel said. "Go have fun!"

"You too!" With a dramatic flourish of his cape, Soos disappeared into the night.

Bill watched Soos go enviously. He could have been given a human body that looked that good in a suit and top hat, but was he? No. It wasn't fair. And Soos didn't even wear the right hat size.

Dipper glanced sideways at Bill. "Hey. Is... Lemuria real?"

"Not anymore." Bill perked up as Stan passed by, dressed like Frankenstein's monster. "Hey, Stanley! You haven't guessed yet. What am I?"

Stan surveyed him. "White columned buildings, Statue of Liberty dress, and a red clown wig. I dunno, the American government?"

Bill squawked in laughter. "That's my favorite wrong answer so far. I like you, Stanley." He fished a chocolate bar out of the bowl and held it out.

Stan grunted in disapproval, but accepted the candy. "If any of you need me, I'm gonna be up on the roof, terrifying kids." He held up a boombox and a cassette that said "Spooky Sound Effects of Halloween". "If you hear screaming children, don't worry: that means I'm winning."

"Where's your brother?" Bill asked.

"Avoiding you." Stan passed through the living room and left.

Bill's shoulders slumped; but he just dug into the candy bowl for more chocolate. Then the first trick-or-treater knocked on the door, and Dipper jumped up in relief to answer it.

The shack didn't attract quite as many trick-or-treaters as the houses closer to the center of town, but they got a steady stream of children, and more than they'd gotten the year before. Between visitors, Bill dug into their candy stock, gleefully ignoring Dipper's complaints. After the fourth or fifth visitor, Dipper and Mabel realized that Bill was covering up the amount of candy he'd pilfered by meticulously re-folding the empty wrappers and putting them back in the bowl.

"It's fair play," Bill said. He untwisted one end of a Twisty Roll tube, squeezed out the candy, blew into the wrapper to re-inflate it, and twisted the end shut again. "The kids are trick-or-treating, right? Sometimes they get treats and sometimes they get tricks."

"Come on, seriously?" Dipper said. "Even for you this is low. You're literally taking candy from babies."

"The babies are trying to take candy from us. I have no sympathy." With the precision of an origami master, Bill refolded a paper fruit chew wrapper into a box and dropped it back into the bowl.

"They're supposed to take candy from us, that's how the holiday works." Dipper looked at Mabel for support.

But she was holding up an empty 3 Fencers wrapper and squeezing it lightly between her fingers. "Wow. How did you make the wrapper puffy again? It's so convincing."

Bill shot Dipper a nasty smile, then turned to Mabel and said magnanimously, "I'll teach you everything I know." He twirled a glue stick between his fingers.

Another trick-or-treater knocked, and Dipper answered.

"Trick or treat! Please give us the worst candy you have."

Mabel blinked, leaning around Dipper to see who was outside. "Wait, what?"

Outside stood a purple-furred monster with a dozen limbs from a dozen different creatures. He gasped in surprise. "Ohhh, twin costumes! That's so cute! What are you two, haunted dolls?"

Dipper took a surprised step back. "Limby Jimmy?"

The monster was silent a moment, taken aback. He took off a bear mask he'd made out of a paper plate. "Is it that obvious?"

Mabel asked, "Have we...?"

Dipper said, "Oh! Sorry—Mabel, this is Limby Jimmy, I ran into him last year in the Crawlspace under town when I was trying to get your face back—"

Helpfully, Bill threw in, "He's Gravity Falls' most accomplished arms dealer. And legs dealer, and tails dealer, and ears dealer..."

"Limby, this is my sister Mabel. Actually, I don't know if I ever introduced myself—"

Limby Jimmy cut in, "Ohhh, yeah, I remember you! You're Troll Boy, right?"

Dipper winced. "It's—it's Dipper, actually." He paused. "Wow. We meet a lot of weird people."

"Nice to meet you, Jimmy!" Mabel held out a hand. After a moment of thought, Jimmy elected to shake it with a tentacle and a dog's paw.

"What are you doing up here?" Dipper asked. "Is Summerween the one night of the year that Gravity Falls' monsters can walk among humans without fear?"

"Oh no, I'm terrified. I wouldn't be out here if I wasn't collecting donations," Jimmy said.

"Donations?"

Jimmy hesitated, then lowered his voice. "You've been in the Crawlspace, so, you and your sister are cool, but is the lady...?" He wiggled a hoof toward Bill.

Coolly, Bill said, "I'm actually an ancient interdimensional energy being cursed to wear a human form."

Dipper and Mabel flinched in alarm and rounded on Bill, hissing, "Bill!" "Shhh!"

Ignoring them, Bill said, "So, continue."

"Oh," Jimmy said brightly. "That's all right then, yuk yuk." He wiggled his multitude of right arms. "I don't know if you humans have heard yet, but the Summerween Trickster got eaten to death last summer! It's really sad!"

Dipper and Mabel, who had watched as he was eaten to death, stayed quiet.

"But probably happy for him?" Jimmy mused. "Since I think that's what he wanted? But it's sad for the rest of his poker group, we all miss him! So I'm out here with Doug—"

"Who?" Dipper asked, looking around the porch for a second monster.

"Oh, he's back there." Jimmy pointed toward a tree at the edge of the clearing around the Mystery Shack. The tree chittered unnervingly. "We're going around collecting donations to resurrect the Trickster! Or... re-summon him? Or however this works. We never really asked him how he came to exist, it seemed rude."

"Naturally," Bill said. "You can't just ask a freak what made him so freaky. It's a sensitive topic."

"Right! You understand," Jimmy said. "Anyway, we need a lot of crappy candy!" He looked at their bowl. "Which pieces have the kids been ignoring this year?"

Mabel had started bouncing on the balls of her dusty Victorian ghost shoes; and the moment she had a turn to speak, she squealed in excitement. "You're the Summerween Trickster's friend! That's perfect! Stay here, I'll be right back!" She shoved the candy bowl into Bill's arms and zoomed up the stairs. "I've got some stuff for him!"

Bill looked at the bowl, looked at the stairs, shoved the candy in Dipper's arms, and followed Mabel. "Hey, Shooting Star? What are you doing?"

Her voice drifted down the stairs: "Getting a donation! I'll be just a minute!"

"Hold on, you're actually helping that guy?" Bill laughed. "Why?" He climbed high enough to poke his head above the attic floor  and lowered his voice so Jimmy couldn't hear. "I wasn't paying that much attention last Summerween, but I got the impression from your little costume store brawl that the Trickster was trying to kill you kids. Am I missing something?"

"I mean, yeah, he was—but he was in a really bad place back then, that doesn't mean he deserves to be dead for it. And now he knows someone out there wants to eat him, so maybe he'll be less insecure and evil." Mabel laughed, "Anyway, the Trickster isn't that bad! He didn't try to kill me half as hard as you did!"

Bill froze a couple of steps from the top of the stairs. He didn't move for a few seconds; and then wordlessly, he slunk back downstairs.

Dipper watched as Bill, face beet red, trudged into the living room. "Hey. What's Mabel...?"

"How should I know." Bill curled up on the couch, picked up the can of cider he'd been drinking earlier, shotgunned it, and glowered at the horror movie on TV.

Dipper considered Bill—all alone in the living room and not doing anything important—and considered Mabel, upstairs; and said, "Hey, Jimmy. Do you mind waiting out here until Mabel gets back."

"Sure! I don't have any plans." Jimmy rocked back on his many heels.

"Cool. Thanks." Dipper shut the door.

He sidled oh so very casually into the living room and leaned against the TV. "Guess it's just the two of us right now."

Bill's gaze didn't waver from the TV. "Terrific counting skills, Troll Boy." He popped open another cider can.

Dipper grit his teeth. Let it go. "Sooo! You're from the second dimension, huh? What's that like?" (His voice cracked embarrassingly on "that.") "Just—just curious. Making friendly conversation. Caaasual conversation." He flashed a pair of finger guns at Bill, to underscore just how casual he was. "Yyyep." Witness the junior paranormal investigator in action.

Bill turned the cold, empty eyes of a killer on Dipper. He took a long, slow sip from his cider. And he asked himself: what can I say that will make this stupid boy regret ever daring to speak to me?

Bill smiled. "Yeah. Sure. Okay," he said. "You wanna know what it's like? Have you ever read the Allegory of the Cave?"

Dipper hesitated. "By... Plato?"

"That one. You know—ignorance is like being a prisoner chained in a cave, watching shadow puppets being cast on a wall, and thinking they're reality; and having knowledge is like being outside the cave in the sunlight, seeing the real shapes that are casting the shadows—"

"I have read it, actually," Dipper said, a tad defensively. "It was for extra credit in—"

"English class, I know."

Dipper frowned; but he soldiered on. "So... living in the second dimension is like being chained in a cave, staring at the shadows on the wall, and thinking that's reality? Bleak."

Bill laughed so loudly that Dipper started. "Wow, you're so dumb! Use your brain, kid: it's the second dimension. You're not the prisoner: you're the shadow on the wall." Bill's lip curled in a sneer, "An illusion in somebody else's allegory. And the only one who can see the cave's exit... is you. That's what the second dimension is like!" He laughed again. It sounded forced.

"Oh," Dipper mumbled. He tried to wrap his head around the idea of being a living metaphor for ignorance. "Sounds... pretty bad?"

"Awful," Bill agreed. "Doesn't hold a candle to what your dimension has going on, though."

"Wh... why, what's going on in the third dimension?"

Bill gave him a malicious smile, and Dipper had the sinking feeling he'd just walked into an obvious trap. "You idiot, you still think you're in the third dimension? Really?"

Was that a trick question? What answer was Bill looking for? What could this be if not the third dimension? "Nnooo?"

"Wow. I can really see why you're a straight-A's honors student," Bill said. "You're so good at figuring out what answer the test wants and regurgitating it—even if you don't actually understand it at all." He heaved himself back to his feet; and Dipper was sure there was something threatening in the movement—something that reminded Dipper that he was talking to a dangerously unstable extinction level event precariously packed into an unsteady human body. "Although copying the year of the Louisiana Purchase off of Brandon's test in fifth grade  probably didn't hurt, did it."

Dipper's stomach dropped. The secret shame buried beneath the foundation of his honors roll-worthy record. Pull that out and his entire academic career came toppling down. He'd get kicked out of the honors classes. He'd go to jail. Was cheating against the law? "H... how did—?"

"What year was the Louisiana Purchase?"

Dipper's brain immediately went blank. He was silent, trapped in the paralyzing intensity of Bill's gaze. After several terrifying seconds, he croaked, "1803?" and hoped he was right.

"Attaboy. Too bad you couldn't have learned that a little sooner, isn't it?" As he spoke, Bill had closed in on Dipper until he'd backed him into the corner behind the TV set, filling Dipper's exit route with one hand on the TV and the other on the wall. "But we were talking about dimensions, weren't we! Whaddaya like to read, kid," Bill asked too casually, "do you like cosmic horror? Do you know what real 'cosmic horror' is?"

Dipper regretted this conversation completely.

"It's having an eyeball on the inside of your body, and seeing another dimension through it. And ohoho, I think you'd be amazed at the things I can see from here—"

Dipper got the distinct impression that if he didn't get out of this conversation, he would only hear things he'd be telling his therapist about for months. "Cool! Good talk, man. Hey Mabel?" (That was an absolutely humiliating voice crack.) "How's it going?"

A pause. "I think I need help!"

"Coming!" Dipper ran behind the TV to escape Bill and gratefully bolted upstairs.

The kid had caved so fast. And Bill had only just been getting started. He smirked, sat, and turned back to the movie.

A moment later, Mabel and Dipper came back downstairs, carrying four bulging plastic grocery bags. Mabel set one by her feet, opened the door, and shoved the first bag into Jimmy's arms. "Here! You can give these to the Trickster!" She shoved over the second bag.

Jimmy stumbled back under the weight. "Whoa there! What is this?"

"Candy chalk-hearts! I completely bought out the leftovers after Valentine's Day," Mabel said. "I wanted to make sure that if we met the Trickster again, I could let him know he's loved and appreciated as the terrifying avatar of spooky holiday spirit that he is! And that I also respect that he's made out of gross candy nobody likes to eat." She picked up a chalk-heart box and waved it in Jimmy's face. "So here's a gross candy that expresses love! See, the little hearts say things like 'You smell nice' and 'I heart ur face,' but they taste like if dehydration was a flavor."

Dipper handed his bags to Jimmy. "Wait—Mabel, that's why you got all these? You've been planning to help the Trickster since February? I thought you were gonna build a chalk-heart house or something."

"Oooh, that's such a good idea. I should do that next year!" To Jimmy, she said, "I was gonna give these to him personally, but if he's still dead, I guess you can add it to his candy sacrifice pile or whatever? And make sure he gets this!" She handed Jimmy a store bought Shimmery Twinkleheart Valentine's card. It read, "I BELIEVE in our friendship! Happy Valentine's Day!" Mabel had scratched out "Valentine's" and written "Summerween".

Choked up, Jimmy said, "Oh—wow. That's the nicest thing anyone's done for us all night. I'm sure the Trickster will really appreciate it when he's not dead anymore."

Dipper was a little more vengeful. Dipper didn't want to do anything for one of the many guys that had tried to kill them last year. But, on the other hand, Mabel had just gone all in on this, and Jimmy seemed nice enough, so... Dipper sighed. Whatever, it was Summerween and this was a trick-or-treater. "Hey," he picked up the candy bowl. "There's really only one bag of good candy in here. The bottom of the bowl is filled with after-dinner mints our great uncle's been stealing from restaurants for the last six months. The Trickster would probably love that, right?"

"Aww—thanks so much, you guys! We'll have the poker group back together in no time!" Jimmy dug past the good candy and started scooping mints into his bag. "Oh—since I'm here, can I ask about our other poker buddy? Do either of you know Mr. What's-His-Face? He disappeared around the time you were visiting the Crawlspace, maybe one of you saw something? Any information would be helpful." Jimmy looked at them with weird, plus-shaped, but very hopeful eyes. "Between the Trickster's death and Whatsis disappearing, the local paranormal community's been hit hard. Especially us guys in their friend group. I'm—I'm not gonna lie," Jimmy heaved a sigh, "It's been a really hard year."

Dipper and Mabel, who were directly and personally at fault for Mr. What's-His-Face's disappearance and knew he was frozen in stasis in Ford's bunker at that very moment, exchanged a look and came to a silent agreement.

"Nope, don't know anything," Mabel said.

"Sorry, buddy," Dipper said.

Like the Summerween Trickster, Mr. What's-His-Face was a weird faceless shapeshifty monster that had tried to kill them. But they felt like that was where the similarities ended.

By the time of the Trickster's death, Mabel and Dipper had realized that his deepest inner longing was to be called good enough to eat. Mr. What's-His-Face's deepest inner longing was to steal innocent people's faces. If Mabel and Dipper helped resurrect the Trickster, he'd probably go back to ensuring everyone displayed sufficient holiday spirit, while hopefully mellowing out about eating people now that he'd been consumed once. On the other hand, if Mabel and Dipper helped free Mr. What's-His-Face, he'd probably just keep stealing faces.

And on top of all that, they could help resurrect the Trickster without admitting they knew the guy who ate him. They couldn't really lead Jimmy to Mr. What's-His-Face without admitting their great uncle was keeping him captive. And that would be a problem for the whole family.

"Oh," Jimmy said. "Okay, that's fine. Thanks for all your help. You know where to reach us if you hear anything."

Mabel shook her head. Dipper nodded. "Yeah, we'll let you know."

Jimmy hopped off the porch, shouted, "Hey Doug, can you help me carry these?" and chucked a couple of bags of chalk-hearts toward the tree line. Dipper and Mabel stared. Nothing emerged to pick the bags up.

They shut the door.

"Man," Dipper said. "We kinda devastated the paranormal poker group last summer, didn't we?"

"Yeah." Mabel sucked in a breath between her teeth. "Wow. Feels... kinda bad."

Dipper offered her the candy bowl. "Drown our feelings in chocolate?"

"Please."

They grabbed a piece of candy each, tore open the wrappers—and frowned. Mabel stomped a foot. "Dang it—Bill!"

"Hm?"

"How many of these wrappers are empty?!"

Bill poked his head out of the living room and said, smugly, "Like candy from a baby!"

####

A knock, and Dipper opened the door. "Wendy! Hey! Good timing—"

"Hey." Wendy lowered her voice. "Quick question—this is super important—is Goldie here?"

"Uh—yeah, why—?"

"Yello?" Bill carefully wove his way out of the living room, already less steady on his feet than when he'd sat down. "I heard my name, who's summoning me?"

Wendy pointed over the twins at Bill and turned to shout into the dark, "Ladies and gentlemen! I present to you! Live and in person... Toga Lady!"

A half dozen teenagers immediately went bananas. Hooting and hollering and cheering and whistling: "To-ga! To-ga! To-ga!"

Bill's entire face lit up. Without missing a beat, he pushed past the baffled twins out onto the porch and spread his arms wide, basking in the cheering. "That's right, keep it coming! Worship me! I'm the greatest!"

"Yes!" Robbie pumped a fist in the air. "The legends were true!" Nate immediately added, "The prophecy! The prophecy!" Tambry snapped photos of Toga Lady's fresh look as fast as her phone could save them, muttering, "Everyone's gonna flip when they find out you're still in town."

Wendy waited, grinning, until her friends' faux hysterics had died down. "Okay—okay, after getting you hyped up, I should probably say that Toga Lady is actually Toga Guy." She glanced questioningly at Bill. "I think?"

"Eh, I'm not picky."

"Anyway this is Goldie, he was stuck in another dimension for thirty years, it's crazy, and now he's like my illegal backup cashier. He actually... doesn't usually wear togas?"

Bill laughed. "If you can't wear a bedsheet on Summerween, when can you?"

Lee said, "Thompson wore a bedsheet to homecoming."

"Hey."

Bill pointed at Thompson. "A man of impeccable fashion! I like it!" Thompson gave him a look of eternal gratitude.

"And Goldie, this is the gang! That's Thompson, he's the guy with the van; Robbie and Tambry, they're like, gender-swapped versions of each other, they even share their hair dye..."

As Wendy did introductions, Mabel whispered to Dipper, "Did you know she was gonna introduce Goldie to everyone?"

"No! This is bad, I told her not to trust him..."

Bill was responding to a question, "No, no, you've gotta guess, I'm making everyone guess!"

The teens considered the question. Robbie offered first, "Punk caveman?"

"Nope!"

Hesitantly, Thompson tried, "Nero fiddling over the burning of Rome?" He winced when Lee laughed.

"I like where your head's at, but no! I can't fiddle."

"The gremlin king from Huge Maze?" Tambry said.

Mabel piped up, "No, but the wig came from a gremlin king costume and I appreciate you for recognizing that!" Tambry nodded in cool approval.

Bill dispensed of Lee, Nate, and Wendy's guesses—Greek Christmas tree, that one guy who keeps painting burning banks, and hair metal Hades—before Robbie loudly cleared his throat to cut in. "Anyway, would love to stay and chat, but we've gotta move if we wanna be in position before sunset. Dipper, Mabel, you ready?"

"Ready to ghost it up!" Mabel said, squeezing around Bill with Dipper onto the porch.

Robbie surveyed their makeup—deathly white skin, ashen grey lips, and dark circles around their eye sockets. "Yeah, that's pretty good. Could use a little color, maybe. Like bloody tears?" He turned toward Tambry.

She said, "I think I've got some red eyeliner."

"'In position'?" Bill asked, giving Dipper and Mabel a questioning look.

Wendy said, "We're helping Robbie film this music video tonight."

"We're the creepy ghost twins!" Mabel announced proudly. "We get to sing the chorus."

Robbie said, "Yeah, the song's about childhood and growing up, but like, with ghosts? Because once you've grown up, your childhood is all dead? It's metal, but introspective. I'm calling the genre 'intrometal.'" He flipped his bangs dramatically. "It's a super deep song. Metaphorical layers."

"Oh yeah?" Bill stared Robbie down. "Sing some of it."

Robbie blinked. "Oh. Yeah, okay uh, I haven't warmed up my voice but, the hook is like—" He pantomimed playing a guitar and whisper-screamed, "'BABY DOLLS! BASKET BALLS! BASKET CASE! HUMAN RACE!' Like that."

Bill nodded slowly, face expressionless. "Ah, yeah, I see. Really deep stuff. Makes you think."

"Thanks." Robbie looked at Dipper and Mabel. "Anyway, if we're gonna get any footage in the graveyard before the jack-o'-melons start burning out, we've gotta move. Let's go, Creepy Ghost Twins."

"Wait, you're going out?" Bill asked Mabel. "Like out-out? Leaving me here? By myself? On Summerween?"

"Wh—yeah, we're only handing out candy for half the night," Mabel said. "I told you that."

"No you didn't!"

"Yes I did!"

"When?"

Mabel thought. "No I didn't," she admitted. "Sorry!"

Wendy punched Bill's arm. "Sorry to steal them. We'll be back in a couple of hours," she said. "Or you could come help—?"

"No!" Dipper and Mabel both shoved Bill back into the house before he could accept. Dipper said, "You've gotta—guard the house." Mabel added, "And hand out candy!"

"Right," Bill said flatly. "Yes. That. Ha."

"See you later!" Mabel said, and then shut the door in his face.

The last thing he heard was Wendy explaining to her friends, "He's on house arrest for, like, academic plagiarism and war crimes or something..." and then they were gone.

Bill's shoulders slumped. Well, now what? He couldn't celebrate a holiday by himself. What was the point of wearing a costume if no one sees you in it. He picked up a piece of candy, discovered it was one of his decoys, and picked up another. 

Someone knocked on the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Bill sighed. He picked up the candy bowl, turned toward the door, and paused. Ah. Right. What was he supposed to do with this impenetrable portal-blocking slab of wood.

Who was left in the house? Stan on the roof, Ford in the basement, Abuelita probably already in bed... were any of them worth harassing to help him answer the door? Maybe Stan, he'd gotten all dressed up, he liked the holiday even if he didn't like Bill—

The trick-or-treater knocked more insistently.

Or. Or.

He could pick up the bowl, peer out the small window in the door, and make direct eye contact with the children outside while he ate candy.

As a piece of mid-tier chocolate melted on his tongue, he saw three trick-or-treaters' faces fall as their faith in a kind, caring universe died. He grinned at them and ate another chocolate.

Oh yeah. He grabbed the rest of his cider from the living room and set up post next to the door. This would keep him entertained the rest of the night.

####

He made seven small children cry.

####

Stan watched from his post on the roof as yet another sobbing kid ran away from the shack. "HA! Gottem! Sucker!" He affectionately patted his boombox. "Creepy ghoulish laughter, you never disappoint! Terrifying moochers since 1989!" He paused the cassette and rewound it a few seconds to replay the best part.

He heard a scraping sound above him, and looked up just in time to see Ford sliding down the roof to join him. "Oh, hey! I didn't think we'd see you again tonight."

"Mabel made me promise to celebrate Summerween a little."

"Good for her!"

Stan had already claimed the sun lounger, so Ford brushed some dust and leaves off the roof's cooler and sat. "So, what are we doing? Scaring trick-or-treaters?"

"Yep. This year I'm taking a more atmospheric approach." He gestured at his boombox, which by now was playing haunting organ music. "Nothing like screaming zombies and rattling chains from nowhere to freak out the kids."

Ford nodded. "Psychological torment. I approve."

"Not quite as good as getting to see the terror in their eyes, but." Stan shrugged. "Bill was hanging out with the kids. I didn't want to put up with him."

"Mm. There's a reason I was spending the holiday in the basement."

"Heh. Well, there's always Halloween."

They were silent for a moment, listening as the cassette moved on from organ music to werewolf howls. Stan asked, "Think we'll be rid of him by then? I know we were hoping to be done with him before the Fourth of July—but since I haven't heard anything lately, I figure you hit a roadblock."

Ford winced. "Guilty as charged." He was still relearning how to keep other people in the loop. Even Stan. "You're right. I have a weapon that can destroy him, but I can't find a fuel source without restarting the portal. I'm hoping Fiddleford will come up with a solution I haven't."

Stan nodded. Ford had told him he was getting Fiddleford involved; even as reluctant as Ford was to admit how little progress he'd made, he wasn't going to tell someone outside the family about Bill without letting Stan know. "Any breakthroughs on his end?"

####

During the credits between episodes of the retired samurai period drama (most recently, the samurai had been asked to use his sword to help cut flowers for a bouquet), Fiddleford leaned over and whispered to Ford, "So I've been a-lookin' at those blueprints you left me."

"And...?"

"And I've constructicated a power adaptor. Just jimmy out the fuel tank, swap it for the adaptor's cord, and you can power that weapon by pluggin' it into the wall! It'll just drain all the power from the town for a few seconds, that's all."

"Fiddleford, that's amazing—"

"Now, hold on. There's bad news," Fiddleford said. "Try as I might, I can't quite get it to draw enough power to activate those energy-destroying features what you'd need to disintegrate Bill. It'll work like a powerful laser, but nothin' else."

Ford sighed. "It's a starting point, I suppose."

"I'll send you home with the adaptor anyway. Never know when you'll need a big laser."

"Very true. Do you have any promising leads on other alternative fuels?"

Fiddleford shook his head. "It's the NowUSeeitNowUDontium or nothing. But I've got a hunch we could synthesize it under lab conditions. I'll letcha know in a few days."

And then the next episode started, and they dropped the conversation.

####

Ford let out a heavy sigh. "He's only had a partial success so far. But I'm hopeful he's on the right track."

"So, if he's working on this weapon, what are you doing?"

"Waiting, mostly. I don't know what else I can do."

Stan frowned. "What—that's it? You've been downstairs all day every day—if you're not figuring out how to destroy him, what are you doing?"

"Passing time somewhere I can be on call if he gets up to something—but I don't have to look at him," Ford said wryly. "And—as long as I'm waiting to hear back from Fiddleford, I've been... picking apart that list of spells Bill gave me. To see if any of them are tricks or traps."

Stan couldn't say he was surprised. That was his workaholic brother. A pamphlet of demon magic was like catnip to him. If anything, Stan was almost glad Ford had that letter to distract him. Over the past year...

Well, Ford was fine on land—when he temporarily had a mystery to solve, an adventure to pursue, an anomaly to study, a distraction to fill his time—but at sea, when his mind was unoccupied, he was listless. He had books he didn't read, field notes he didn't enter into his journal, games he didn't play. He fed himself and exercised and did chores around the ship like a robot programmed to take care of itself, and he stared out at the sea.

Last summer, Ford hadn't seemed happy but he'd seemed alive. Tired and angry, but alive. But after Weirdmageddon, a light in his eyes went out. Stan didn't know if it was the end of summer, or guilt over the memory gun, or the gap between finishing a thirty-year-long quest and discovering the next one. All Stan knew was the light hadn't come back on until the moment Bill Cipher, clad in a new body and a purple cartoon bedsheet, tried to cave Ford's skull in.

Ever since they were children, Ford had had a tendency to develop obsessions. It was somehow simultaneously both what made him most interesting and what made him boring. Depended on the obsession. But these all-consuming interests had always tended to last a few months, at most a year; and he'd never seemed to be without one, much less for nine months. Stan had no idea what carrying a single obsession for three decades might have done to Ford's mind.

Stan was glad something had woken Ford back up, and he worried that losing that focal point again might leave Ford permanently adrift. But another part of him worried that, this time, Ford wouldn't let the object of his obsession go. He tended to collect things related to his obsessions.

But then, he usually tended to like his obsessions. He hadn't seemed bothered to burn the contents of his creepy Bill shrine last summer. Ford wouldn't do anything stupid, Stan told himself. Ford hated Bill. "So? Were any of the spells traps?"

"Not... so far, no." Ford sounded irritated by this.

Stan shrugged. "Makes sense. He's trying to butter us up. If that idiot thinks being nice to us for a week or two is gonna make up for the years of grief he's given us—"

A loud rattle-clattering below made them both start. Stan sat bolt upright. "What the—?"

Ford inched to the edge of the dormer roof, knelt down, and leaned over the edge just far enough to see the window.

Bill's face was pressed to the glass, eye rolled up toward the roofline. He grinned in surprised delight and shouted through the glass, "HEY, STANFORD! What are you doing up here?! I thought you were downstairs!"

"Ugh." Ford turned to grimace at Stan. "Speak of the devil."

Bill pounded on the glass again. "Hey, Sixer! SIXER! Open the window!"

"Why?"

"I wanna talk!"

"No."

"Come ooon, the kids ditched me and I'm bored! There's no one in the house to talk to! The old lady's asleep and Stanley's on the roof, so—" He abruptly fell silent, squinting with deep suspicion at Ford-who-should-be-in-the-basement kneeling on the-roof-where-Stan-should-be, and said, "Wait. Are you Stanley right now? Show me your hand."

Ford did not. "Go away, Bill." He left the edge of the roof for his cooler seat.

"Get back here!" The pounding redoubled. "I don't care which Stan you are! If you don't wanna talk, I can always go wake up Dolores!"

Ford looked at Stan. "Mrs. Ramirez's name is Dolores?" He had gotten used to everyone calling her Abuelita.

Stan stomped on the roof, "Shaddup!"

Bill did not shaddup. "Come ooon!"

Stan sighed in defeat and heaved himself to his feet. "If he keeps that racket up he's gonna break that window, never mind that hex you put on him." When they'd taken out the original Bill-shaped window, Stan had replaced it with the cheapest window he could find. He didn't think it was very durable. "How much trouble can he get in with one open window twenty feet above the ground and both of us watching him?"

Ford Frowned.

"Don't gimme that look. Do you want to pay for a broken window?" Stan flipped through his keys for his key-shaped emergency lock pick, leaned over the edge of the roof, and wedged the pick into the window frame. The latch popped open. Lucky this window was so cheap, that wouldn't have worked on one with deluxe features like "airtight weatherstripping" or "a properly-fitting frame." Stan swung open the window. "Okay, you have our attention. Now what's the fastest way we can get rid of you?"

Bill clumsily climbed out to sit on the windowsill with his legs in the shack, and leaned back so he could see up onto the roof. "Hiya Fo—" He lost his balance, flailed, and yelped as he toppled backwards.

Stan and Ford lunged forward to seize an arm each. Stan snapped, "What are you doing, you maniac?!"

Bill stared up at them both in wide-eyed amazement. "You do like me."

Stan made a noise of disgust, let go, and wiped his hands on his pants like Bill had cooties.

Ford said, "We like you trapped in that body and not free to cause the apocalypse."

"I heard 'we like you'!"

"Shut up." Ford managed to haul Bill back upright. (Touching Bill felt wrong—all soft flesh and skin and the suggestion of bones underneath. Even when looking right at Bill's human body, Ford still expected him to feel like heavy shadows and heatless flames.) From this close, Bill reeked of cider. "Just how much have you had to drink?"

"Not so much I won't remember whatever you say in the morning, so be nice to me!" Bill laughed. He leaned back, this time hanging by one hand off the window frame to precariously maintain his balance, and grinned up at Ford. "So! The least fun person in the house has finally emerged from his lair? And you didn't even come into the house to join in the Summerween festivities! 'All work and no play'..."

Ford had to crouch at the edge of the roof, hovering nearby in case Bill lost his balance again. "I wanted to participate in Summerween, actually. It just so happens that the last person I'd ever spend a holiday with is in the house."

"Listen, Stanford. I know you're holing up in your study for days on end just to hurt me. But let's be honest, you're hurting yourself more! When's the last time you saw the sunlight! Look at how pale you're getting, you look like a vampire."

Stiffly, Ford said, "It's costume makeup. That's my vampire costume." Stan laughed.

"It what." Bill flipped up his eyepatch and squinted blearily at Ford's face.

Wordlessly, Ford bared his teeth to show off his plastic vampire teeth.

"Oh." Somewhat deflated, Bill said, "Nice work, it's convincing."

"Thanks," Ford said grudgingly. Giving in to his curiosity, he gestured toward Bill's (somewhat disheveled) reddish-yellow wig. "What are you."

"Oh!" Bill perked back up. "You've got to see the whole thing. Hold on—" He turned around in the window, ignoring how Ford half reached for him in case he needed steadying, until he got his legs outside to dangle on the roof. "What do you think!"

Ford looked over the brown toga flared out like a cone, the eruption of red hair, the small paper city below, and said, "Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii? Very clever."

Bill's face lit up. "Finally! You're the first person all day to get it!" He smoothed out the skirt proudly, his jerky gestures just a bit more exaggerated than usual. "Do you know how long I've wanted to go to a costume party as Vesuvius? But nobody off Earth would get it! And now that I'm finally here, I can't go to parties and I'm shaped more like a mandrake than a volcano." He flung up his hands, wobbled, and caught himself before Ford had to intervene. "But at least you got it. I knew I could count on you, IQ."

He sounded so sincerely grateful. Ford regretted calling the costume clever. It was, but Bill didn't need the ego boost.

"Oh! By the by—I didn't think you'd emerge before the day was over, so I saved this." Bill fished around in his toga until he retrieved a mini pack of jelly beans. "Here!"

Ford eyed the pack. "Why is it open?"

"Because you only like the weird-shaped jelly beans, so I ate all the normal beans and saved the weird ones in one bag."

"I don't want this. You touched every one of the beans, that would be disgusting even if they weren't coming from you," Ford said. "Anyway, this is a patently transparent attempt to buy your way into my good favor—"

"It sure is, Ford, and if you don't accept it I'll get to be annoying about your ingratitude for weeks! Is that what you want? You know I'll do it. Everyone will be on my side—"

Ford sighed, but snatched the bag from Bill's hand. "Fine. Now drop it."

"That's more like it!" Bill favored Ford with an approving smile. "Anyway, it's just about the only candy left in the house, I ate everything else—hey, have you ever been cross faded on cider and a sugar rush?"

Ford was still trying to decide whether he wanted to engage in this one-sided conversation enough to ask Bill what "cross faded" meant when Bill moved on without him: "It's—not that interesting, actually. 6 out of 10. Anyway, all that's left in the bowl is mints and wrappers. And Mabel even managed to give most of the mints away—hey, she's so nice, did you know she's helping to resurrect the Summerween Trickster?"

She was doing what? "No. Why?"

"She's so nice."

"You just said that."

"What is she so nice for. What's she getting out of it," Bill asked, more to the universe at large than to Ford. "If more humans were half as nice to freaks as she is, your rotten planet wouldn't need people like you and me to save it."

Ford didn't even know where to begin with that. He looked to Stan for help.

Stan was sitting straddling his lounger, elbow on one knee and chin in his hand, watching this exchange like he was watching a weird bug on the wall try to navigate around a picture frame. At Ford's glance, he rolled his eyes and pantomimed sipping from a drink.

He could say that again. Ford cleared his throat. "Bill, maybe you should..."

"Hey," Bill said. "Great talk, we really should catch up more sometime. And pull your weight next time, I always have to do all the talking. But right now, I'm..." He gestured vaguely off to the side. "I'm gonna lie down and try not to throw up. Ciao!" He swayed as he tried to get back in the window, tumbled backward into the shack, and thudded heavily on the floor. "Ow."

Ford gingerly shut the window.

Stan turned up the boombox. "Chatty drunk, isn't he."

"He's chatty sober, too." But in front of the kids? Neither of them saw Bill as a role model, but they still didn't need to be exposed to that kind of behavior. Especially when the responsible adults were outside or asleep... "Did we really leave Bill alone in the house with the kids?"

"W—I—" Stan shrugged defensively. "They were all right! They can take him! They're doing karate or whatever! You didn't see how Mabel flipped him at the mall! It was like David wrestling Goliath."

"David and Goliath didn't wrestle."

"You know what I mean."

Ford supposed he didn't think Bill was any threat to the children. At least, not right now, and not physically. He felt like he'd know if Bill was about to try anything.

He looked at his open bag of gross felt-up jelly beans. Speaking of trying to butter them up... Ford wound up and chucked the bag as hard as he could.

He stared into the dark after it.

A small part of him was beginning to wonder whether this wasn't all just an attempt to get Ford's guard down. The gifts, sure, that was as clear-cut a case of bribery as you could get. Nothing ambiguous there.

But the endless chatter... Back when Ford had called Bill his Muse, this was exactly how he'd wanted Bill to talk to him. Not in the flighty half-distracted way of a friendly businessman catching up on a work project's progress before hurrying on to the next meeting; but just talking for talking's sake, talking for the company.

Getting what he once had longed for made his skin crawl. And he couldn't even tell if Bill was acting.

The boombox let out a ghastly banshee shriek. Ford and Stan both jumped, then laughed awkwardly.

Ford sat on the cooler again. "Is it just me, or... did Bill completely ignore you as soon as he realized I was up here."

"Well. I wasn't gonna mention it. I didn't wanna sound jealous of the attention. But yeah—he's been doing that since he got here. If you're in the room, he tunes everyone else out."

"I thought it was in my head." And he hadn't wanted to sound like he wanted to imagine Bill was favoring him.

"And you do the same thing around him," Stan said, and laughed at Ford's flinch of alarm. "It's—it's fine, I get it. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? You've got some kind of superhero-supervillain nemesis thing."

Ford got the distinct impression that Stan was offering him a convenient excuse for the tunnel vision. He took it. "I suppose that's true." The way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed around Bill certainly felt like a "nemesis" reaction.

But if Stan thought Ford was a bit too preoccupied by Bill... well, maybe he was right. Once Ford had gotten over his initial wave of fear, of despair, of outrage at the injustice, at finding Bill was still alive—there was a part of him that was almost relieved. A part of him that had been on guard against nothing for the past year, twisting around looking for an absent threat. Now that it knew where the threat was, that part of him could finally settle down and watch Bill with steady, certain eyes. Having nothing to worry about made him more anxious than having one thing to always worry about.

(Maybe Shermie's kid had been on to something when he suggested Ford might benefit from therapy.)

Knowing Bill was back didn't put the old starlight and awe back in that hole Bill had left in Ford's chest. But dread could fill a hole all the same.

Ford tried to push Bill out of his mind and the conversation. "You think I'm like a superhero?"

"You run around fighting monsters with a space laser. What else would you be?"

"Huh." Well. That made his night.

"Just as long as you don't pull that 'hero spares the villain to show how good he is' shtick."

"Never." Ford laughed ruefully. "I think I left 'good' behind a few felonies back." He'd probably left "good" behind the night he accepted the portal blueprints.

"Couple stragglers," Stan said, nodding out into the dark. It took Ford a moment to spot the costumed kids and remember it was Summerween. "I recognize those costumes, I scared them off an hour ago. What are they doing back?"

Ford squinted at them. "Are those toilet paper rolls?"

"Wh—Hey! What are you little runts— Hey!" Stan leaped to his feet, shaking his fist at the kids below. "Get away from my car! Stop that! I'll have you know that's a classic— No, not the eggs!"

Ford slid out his freeze ray, turned down the power, and offered it to Stan. "Here. At this power and distance, it'll feel like getting pelted with invisible snowballs."

Stan snatched up the weapon. "Eat this, twerps!"

The Summerween night air was filled with the screams of terrified children and the evil laughter of an old man.

####

Wow. It sure sounded like everybody was having fun. Outside. Without him.

Bill was nauseous.

He stared at the spinning ceiling, flat on his back, one leg on a cushion and the rest of him on the floor. 

Bill was nauseous and alone. The loneliness tore at his throat. Even Mabel had ditched him. Of course she did—he'd tried to kill her. He'd barely even remembered he'd tried to kill her until she brought it up. Had he tried to kill her? No, surely not—he liked the kid, he'd always liked her—he'd been faking to force Ford's hand, he never would have gone through with it. He would've teleported her into another room and pretended he'd disintegrated her. She didn't know he hadn't meant it. She was just mad he'd scared her. She couldn't take a joke.

But, Ford talked to him. Ford even liked his costume. It wasn't much, but it would get Bill through the night.

When he saw Kryptos again—when, not if—he was slicing him into a jigsaw puzzle for not taking Bill's call. The nerve of that guy, hanging up on a human without even waiting a few words to see if they had anything interesting to say. 

(What if it hadn't been an accident, he wondered? What if Kryptos had realized it was Bill and still hung up?)

(No. Of course it was an accident.)

He shut his eyes. He was probably too drunk to dream tonight. Well, he could try again tomorrow. His little lucid dreaming guide was currently teaching him to influence the next night's dream by focusing on a topic before sleep. Maybe tomorrow he could dream about the Nightmare Realm.

He missed home.

####

(Congratulations to the approximately 50% of respondents who correctly figured out Bill's costume when I posted the art on Halloween, you're officially smarter than everybody in Gravity Falls except Ford. This is one of those chapters with a whole lot going on so if you enjoyed, I'd love to hear your comments!!)

[thisblogisaboutabook]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

Azriel x Reader - Fluff - One Shot

While getting over a breakup, a performer in a Velaris tavern catches the attention of a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Alcohol, Implied hook-up

The notes flowed effortlessly through my fingers onto the ivory keys of the tavern’s antique piano. I’d played the song more times than I cared to admit over the past several months yet the angst of it had yet to be lost on me.

Tonight was particularly lively as the High Lord and Lady’s inner circle made their way into the tavern. One of the nicer pleasure halls in Velaris yet not as alluring as Rita’s, which was closed this week as they install an updated dance floor and modernize the bar’s serving area.

Once word spread of the prestigious guests, a plethora of onlookers flowed in the front doors. It had been a while since the bouncer actually had a line to attend to.

Attendees made requests, many tunes of a more risqué variety in hopes of a sultry dance against THE Morrigan. Who could blame them? She was lovely. Not in a soft and gentle way - but in a powerful, warm, seductive sort of way. Those that didn’t want to be with her, wanted to be her. Males and females alike tried and failed to get close enough for a dance but she stayed close to the remainder of the inner circle on the dance floor, so lost in the music that she hadn’t even noticed the desire flowing around her.

The Shadowsinger had also come out tonight. Though he evaded the dance floor, guarding their corner table diligently. An emotionless, bordering cold stare plastered on his face as he monitored the place. Ever the watchful friend, ensuring nobody stepped out of line. Many patrons gazed from afar, whispering words of encouragement as to who could work up the nerve to approach. The more brazen guests going as far as to take a few steps closer before being put off by his intimidating presence without him even making eye contact with them.

After a recent break up - recent putting it lightly - it had been months but who was counting? I’d taken to spending my weekends in this tavern. One evening, after far too many shots of liquid courage, I began playing on the piano while singing raunchy limericks and catchy tunes I’d picked up over the years during my travels through Prythian. Despite his odious reputation, some of my favorite limericks came from the High Lord of the Spring Court whom I’d never met personally. The poems coming in slurs from drunken participants of the Great Rite many years ago, the Calanmai where I met my former lover.

We’d connected instantly - literally and figuratively - and spent several wonderful years together. Until, damn the cauldron, he found his mate earlier this year. What are years together in the face of fate? Fate having a wicked sense of humor. How lucky for me that his mate dwelled in the city that I had introduced him to, MY city. They’d come into this very tavern shortly after the breakup, kindly leaving just as abruptly they came in. A futile effort of sparing me the heartache. Truthfully, he wasn’t a cruel male. He didn’t know I played here - and I didn’t hate him. But I resented it. All of it.

Which lead me to the song I was currently belting out at this piano. The song I’d written immediately after arriving back to my apartment that night, whiskey in one hand, fountain pen in the other.

“…And you're sitting in front of me at the restaurant, when I was still the one you want

Cross-legged in the dim light, everything was just right.

I, I could feel the mascara run. You told me that you met someone, glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

Help, I'm still at the restaurant, still sitting in a corner I haunt, cross-legged in the dim light

They say, What a sad sight"

Despite the angsty, brooding lyrics, the tone was catchy and very easy to move along to. The more frequent patrons of the establishment had come to know this as a staple in my evening set, belting out the lyrics right along with me.

The song was my closing for the evening as I packed up, ready to head out. One of the attendees brought a glass of my favorite whiskey to me, nodding to the beautiful brooding male at the Inner Circle’s table.

Interesting.

I nodded a thank you with a brief raise of my glass to the Spymaster, as a little shadow swirled around my wrist with a gentle tug in his direction.

Who was I to turn him down? Aside from a steaming bath and smutty novel, I had nothing waiting for me to return home.

I casually strode to his table, giving a little smirk before sitting in front of him. Licking my lip before raising the glass to my mouth, lifting an eyebrow as I locked eyes with him.

“I didn’t realize Spymaster involved sussing out a lady’s drink of choice.”

A cool, bemused expression settled on his face as he took a sip from his own glass. “While my skill set is quite impressive, I asked the attendant for the bartender to send you a glass of your favorite.”

“I see. Well, thank you.” I replied, giving him time to continue the conversation or bid a farewell.

“You wrote that song.” He stated, not a question. Spymaster indeed.

For emphasis, I threw back a large swig of my liquor. “I did. Did you like it?”

He met my gaze with a contemplative glean in those hazel eyes, “Yes, no. Yes, the song was good. No, I did not like the truth behind the words. It felt too… relatable.”

I ran my fingers back through my hair letting it loosely fall back into place, and sighed. “Looks like we’ll both need another drink then.” Turning to the nearby attendee and signaling two fingers.

Two drinks turned to three, and four, by the end of the night we had laughed, one-upped eachother on who was unluckiest in love, and I was practically in his lap as we boisterously toasted a cheeky “Damn, the cauldron!” to which a nearby couple audibly gasped. We both muttered quick “apologies” turning away as we muffled our laughter into each others shoulders. He graciously sent the pair a shot with our next round of drinks.

The place started clearing out as the lights brightened and the keep yelled out a last call. Both of us hesitant to call it a night as we stepped into the brisk cold. “Walk me home, Shadowsinger?”

“Azriel. Call me Azriel.” He smiled. “I actually have something better in mind. Join me for a night cap?” He extended a hand.

Holding my hand out to squeeze his reassuringly, I replied, “Y/N. I’d be delighted.”

He eagerly swept me into his arms and darted into the sky, aiming for the House of Wind. The city lights quickly fading into twinkling stars.

Our pulses fluttered with anticipation as I nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck. When I pulled back to meet his eyes, he gave me a mischevious grin and briskly swooped down then back up. I flicked his nose to which he laughed, tilting his head downward to plant a kiss on my forehead.

I finally left the restaurant…

And my dress on his bedroom floor.

[respectthepetty]

Reading the (Visual) Rainbow Awards

Now that 2023 is officially wrapped up, I'm delivering awards to the QLs that gave the best visual narratives in 2023. In order to be considered for these awards, the series 1) had to air during 2023, and 2) had to finish airing by December 31, so out of the 108 BLs I watched this year, 14 are still ongoing and cannot be considered for these awards. Out of the remaining 94 QLs, 67 had some degree of consistent color coding.

*If a show is mentioned with an asterisk, it means the show was not considered in the nominations for not meeting the required criteria.

But before I begin the award ceremony, I must stay on brand and deliver one award for my namesake.

Petty Award: Only Friends & I Feel You Linger in the Air

This award goes to a show or shows that had great visual narratives but I refuse to write about it because I'm petty. Cinematographers Rath and Jim never fail, and they both delivered beautiful visuals in their shows, but these series know what they did to me, so now we got beef. Cutie Pie and Bad Buddy finally broke out of Petty Prison this year, so Only Friends and I Feel You Linger in the Air now join I Told Sunset About You behind bars for making me want to fight them in the parking lot of a Texas Chicken.

Now for the ceremony to begin!

Stats Awards [These awards are based solely on numbers]

Most Popular: Blue Boy

This award goes to the color that was most popular in a pair, number-wise. The stats: A Blue Boy was part of a color-coded pair 26 times this year. The next color-coded boy was a Black Brooder who was a part of 15 pairs.

The Best Blue Boy was Bed Friend's King. He is actually bi-colored with blue and black, so he represents both of the most popular color-coded boys well. He was loyal, dependable, sensitive, and a little arrogant, but always sincere, which made him a King among men, and he truly deserves the title of "Best Color-Coded Boy of the Year."

Most Popular Pair: Light x Dark

This award goes to the color-coded pair who were used the most in the year, number-wise. The stats: The Black x White dynamic was consistently used for 9 couples, and the Happy Human (Multicolored Menace) x Brooding Boy dynamic was used 3 times. A Yellow/Orange Oddity x Blue Boy pair was used for 7 couples, a Green Guy x Blue Boy were used for 6 couples, and Red Rascal x Blue Boy were used for 6 couples as well.

The Best Light x Dark Couple: Tew x Guy from My Dear Gangster Oppa perfectly represent what makes this color dynamic work. Tew was an actual gangster who murdered people and only wore black, while Guy was an innocent college student who only wore white, yet they both ended up owning a bar on a beach and wearing stripes of the other's color to show that everyone needs to find a balance within himself and his relationship.

The Outlier: Star Struck

This award goes to a series that delivered a colored-coded pair that no other series did. Korean drama Star Struck gave us the ONLY Black Brooder x Red Rascal pair of the year. The leads were color coded as children into adulthood, and the show included color-coded accessories and a color exchange.

Visual Rhetoric Awards

Best Boundary/Barrier/Bars - My School President

This award goes to a series that best displayed an internal conflict with a physical barrier between the two leads. My School President did this several times and each time was different, but throughout the sixth episode, as the boys recreated the music video for Tilly Birds' "Just Being Friendly," the line between friends and boyfriends was clearly represented. Both boys struggled with their feelings and the physical barriers were there as a reminder that one of them would have to cross the line in order to move forward. However, when Blue Boy Tinn finally did, it was after confirmation that Red Rascal Gun felt the same, and it was a gentle move which was true to his character and the high school context.

Best Balance - Between Us

This award goes to a series that best used the scene to outline the balanced dynamic between the leads. My Beautiful Man 2 did a fantastic job of slowly showing Hira and Kiyoi's evolving power dynamic by Hira going from laying down to kneeling in front of a sitting Kiyoi, but Between Us showed that Win and Team were a balanced pair from the very first episode during their sexual encounter. That scene stated that neither boy was being taken advantage of, and this visual continued throughout the show. Both boys were afraid of their feelings, yet both boys loved each other, equally.

Best Background (Noise) - Our Dating Sim

This award goes to a series that best used the background details to strongly reinforce the ongoing plot. Our Dating Sim's plot revolved around a company creating an interactive game that would serve as a dating simulation, and that basis played directly into the former friends-to-lovers' conflict. The very first scene involved Eddy inputting code into his computer to "FindProblem; ResetTime; BackToStage; RestartGame" then the company Ian was applying to and the one Eddy worked at was called RE:TRY with a controller that had a heart as one of the buttons. However, every episode had some degree of background noise speaking directly about the plot including additional game simulation scenes where an unidentified player would have to select future moves based on the boys' previous experiences.

Best Use of Clothing - Never Let Me Go

This award goes to the series that made the best use of clothing to show the evolving dynamic between the leads. Never Let Me Go wins because Nueng began the series in dark solid colors while Palm was in colorful patterns. As their relationship progressed, Nueng's colors became lighter, and patterns were introduced. Yet in the end, both boys stayed true to themselves and each maintained their style while incorporating components from the other. Palm's color darkened but remained patterned, and Nueng opted for neutral colors with patterned ties.

Colors Awards

Honorable Mention - Oh No! Here Comes Trouble

This award goes to a series that had a great visual narrative but could not be considered for these awards because it wasn't marketed as a QL (even though it's canon to me). If Oh No! Here Comes Trouble was marketed as QL, it would easily be nominated for the Best Overall Award. The use of the color red as a continuing reminder of the thin red thread of destiny, alone, would win it a spot on this list, but the show also included ample amounts of visual rhetoric, a "kiss of life," and color-coded matching outfits which deserve to be recognized.

Best Color Exchange - My Personal Weatherman

This award goes to a series where the leads were color coded and switching their colors demonstrated more than their love being mutual. My Personal Weatherman owned this category. The series was riddled with miscommunications between the leads regarding the love they felt for each other, but after Mizuki's possessiveness ramped up at the end of the seventh episode, the love was made clear, through bondage. Yoh, wearing Mizuki's blue, felt the love Mizuki had for him when he was tied up and being, essentially, held hostage by Mizuki. And yet by tying up Yoh, Mizuki could finally physically reinforce the way he felt for Yoh. He wanted Yoh. All of Yoh. To himself. And Yoh needed that to be made clear with a color-coded bonding moment (hehe).

Best Kiss - The Eighth Sense

This award goes to the series that best used a kiss to support the color narrative of the story. The Eighth Sense waited until the second-to-last episode to deliver this extraordinary color-coded kiss, but the wait was well worth it. Jae Won was color coded as a Brooding Boy (dark) and Ji Hyun was color coded as a Happy Human (light). After an accident involving the two, Jae Won was the darkest he had been, color-wise and mentally, so he isolated himself. But after several episodes apart, Jae Won walked out of the darkness, straight to Ji Hyun's, and kissed him on the street with all the colors of the rainbow pulsing around them perfectly showing that Ji Hyun was the color in his dark world, but that Jae Won also brought color to Ji Hyun's life and directly to his doorstep.

Best Pink - Be My Favorite

This award goes to the series that best used the color pink to demonstrate the love between the two leads. Normally, shows use pink lighting, pink clothing, or pink blankets to display this visual, but Be My Favorite used pink wisteria delicately hanging behind Pisaeng comforting Kawi. The flowering plant symbolizes friendship, love, and longevity and perfectly tied into the show's themes of valuing friendship and putting in the effort day-after-day to make any relationship last.

Best Heart - Love Tractor

This award goes to a series that best represented love by using a tangible item to symbolize a heart. Even before Yechan realized he loved Yol with the physical representation of Yechan's red gloves sprouting out from his left chest pocket in Love Tractor, Yechan let Yol know that he could be trusted with Yol's heart. During the third episode, Yechan taught Yol how to pick strawberries. He advised Yol to be gentle, to not use force, and to not put too much pressure on them or they would bruise or break. Yechan proceeded to use this method with Yol, and continued to give Yechan red fruits to enjoy as a means of encouraging Yol to experience things he had truly not before, like fresh strawberries, stolen fruit, and unconditional love.

Best Accessory - I Cannot Reach You

This award goes to a series that best used a color-coded accessory to support the ongoing plot. Usually, color-coded accessories are physical items such as a phone, a shirt, or a mug, but I Cannot Reach You instead color coded feelings via a bokeh effect. Blue Boy Yamato tried to deny his feelings for his best friend, Yellow/Orange Oddity Kakeru, but the colors don't lie, and the bokeh effect snitched on him each time. When Kakeru was tending Yamato's wound or when Yamato thought of kissing Kakeru, the bokeh effect would show both boys' colors to let the audience know that Kakeru was on Yamato's mind. But the biggest moment was when this phenomenon happened to Kakeru, which finally showed that he felt the same for Yamato. [GIF by @my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Best Blinding Light (of Love) - HIStory 5: Love in the Future

This award goes to the series that best used a blinding light to emphasize the overwhelming feeling of being in love. Taiwan and its long-standing HIStory series win this award because Taiwan showed everyone else why it's the expert. HIStory 5: Love in the Future waited until the last episode to use this with an established couple, which is why it deserves the win. Vincent had already quit his job and moved to the beach, where his boyfriend Wynn would visit, but in the last episode, Wynn quit his job as well and ran to the beach because he finally realized Vincent was the reason all his dreams came true. Vincent told Wynn he never planned to tell him because he didn't want Wynn to believe he owed Vincent, and Wynn told Vincent his love was genuine regardless of what Vincent had done for him. They kissed, and the blinding light hit as they solidified their love. Therefore, the light wasn't just for love, but for understanding what that love meant and where that love came from.

Best Lighting - Moonlight Chicken

This award goes to the series that best used lighting to support the story's narrative. Cinematographer Rath, who has regularly partnered with Director Jojo and Director Aof, never misses. Not once. And Moonlight Chicken is a flawless example of that. Warm and cool lighting were used to show the difference between neglect and care, isolation and warmth, and a house versus a home. The characters' development could be directly seen through the lighting surrounding them and projected on them. Heart's entire storyline is a beautiful progression through blues and oranges and reds, and we see that although Jim did not realize he was the heart of his community, the lighting made sure that the audience understood how important he was to each character he interacted with, even Alan.

Best Cinematographer: Nid Nidchaya - Dangerous Romance, Love in Translation, My Universe*

This award goes to the cinematographer who best supported the story through visuals without distracting from the ongoing plot. Thailand dominated this competition with Joy (The Promise, The Warp Effect*); Rath (Never Let Me Go, Moonlight Chicken, Our Skyy, Only Friends, Last Twilight*); Jim (Step by Step, Hidden Agenda, I Feel You Linger in the Air); and Suthipong (609 Bedtime Story, Our Skyy, Chains of Heart, My Dear Gangster Oppa), but only Nid deserves this win.

My Universe consists of twelve different stories, and each has had a slightly different visual presentation, but it's Nid's work in Dangerous Romance and Love in Translation that show off his true skill. When Red Rascal Sailom was drugged and attempted to call Blue Boy Kanghan, the bathroom was lit in blue as Sailom fell down from the purple, and when Kanghan cried while pinning down Sailom, they were surrounded by their colors. When Phumjai and Yan Feng kissed in their store, their colors enveloped them much like the colors would combine as they had sex in the same spot a few episodes later. The colors and the love were always present even if it was overlooked, which only reinforced the on-screen drama of failing to notice the ways love is always present, even when in conflict.

Best Rainbow - I Became the Lead in a BL Drama

This award goes to the series with the best use of a rainbow. There were many rainbows this year featured in opening credits and several more that were nominees of this award such as Our Dining Table's rainbow over the smiley face sucker, Dangerous Romance's rainbow over Kanghan's heart, Past-Senger's rainbow paper hearts in a jar, and Wen's office Pride flag in Moonlight Chicken, but I Became Lead in a BL Drama's rainbow in the opening credits of the first episode swooped in right before the clock struck midnight ending 2023. The reason it stole this award at the last minute is simple - it's queer. Regardless if a kiss happened or not, this series was still about two men falling in love, and that's pretty gay. But how the rainbow was used in the opening credits of the first episode with the Blinding Light of Love as the clapperboard hid the leads' kiss is what gave it the edge in this category. We only saw one practice kiss because the scripted one was never for us. That kiss was for the audience of the fictional BL drama, and the real kiss between the actors was just for them. It was gay. It was meta. It was Japanese BL.

Best Surprise - La Pluie

This award serves as a catch-all for a series that delivered a color-coded surprise while still incorporating it well within the plot. Several series offered color-coded surprises in 2023, but La Pluie, the show about soulmates, splendidly reinforced its plot through the two color-coded brothers at the center of the series. Tien was a Yellow/Orange Oddity who believed in the power of destiny, yet he ended up in blue with a person who wasn't his soulmate, and his brother, Blue Boy Tai, who never wanted a soulmate, ended up with his and embracing more yellow in his life. The story is more complicated, and so are the colors, but for a series about bucking fate, it resisted every common use of color-coding techniques in order to support that theme. Life is unpredictable, and so were the colors.

Best Group Effort - Destiny Seeker

This award goes to the series that best color coded a majority of its characters. Destiny Seeker had consistent color coding throughout the entire season, but it really excelled at color coding each of its three couples. The youngest couple color coordinated, the second pair were yellow x green, which is usually reserved for friends and not lovers and went well with their plot, and the main characters were the traditional Thai blue x red. The show gave three different color-coded pairs yet provided something new and fresh while still hitting each stop on the BL history tour, and no couple was wasted. Each one, and their colors, perfectly added to the story, and gave a nice depiction of the rainbow of colors that queer love can be.

Best Consistent Color Coding - Tie: What Did You Eat Yesterday? 2, My Beautiful Man 2, Naughty Babe

This award goes to the series that had the most consistent color coding throughout its run. However, this year we were blessed with sequels and additional outings from some of our favorite series and color-coded couples. Therefore, this award goes to THREE shows for not only having consistent color coding but for also openly using those colors as part of the plot:

Shiro x Kenji [What Did You Eat Yesterday?] - Shiro was always a Brooding Boy (dark colored) and Kenji brought color into his life, but the second season directly addressed this. Shiro wasn't ever going to be a colorful person, but he didn't need to be because the show repeatedly stated that relationships are about balance. Kenji loves Shiro because he is practical and saves for their future. Shiro loves Kenji because he is upbeat and optimistic. They have different colors, but they are the perfect match, just like their aprons.

Hira x Kiyoi [My Beautiful Man] - Hira was a loyal and reserved servant (blue) to his god Kiyoi (white). Yet the second season and movie continued to show that Kiyoi was not a god, but instead a man lacking love and color, and because of that, Hira had to learn to give his color to Kiyoi rather than mindless devotion. Both men shined the brightest when it was clear that Kiyoi loved Hira for his stalker tendencies, and Hira thrived knowing that the best way to show Kiyoi love was by being himself and doing exactly what he loved, which was taking care of Kiyoi with all his color.

Lian x Yi Kuea [Cutie Pie, Naughty Babe] - All polycule jokes aside, Lian and Kuea had a complete color-coded story in Cutie Pie, so Cutie Pie 2 U felt like a repeat of the first season, but then came Naughty Babe. The boys wore more of the other's color which proved they were very much still in love as husbands, and at their best friends' wedding, these husbands stood in red and took a serious moment in a season full of hijinks and shenanigans to look directly at the audience and state that "Love Always Win." Domundi has been beating this Marriage Equality drum the hardest, and it continues to use its characters to emphasize the importance of QUEER family and rights. The Next Prince and Love Upon a Time when?

Best Overall - Kiseki: Dear to Me

This award goes to the series that did it like nobody else to claim the ultimate prize, and no other show can even compete with Kiseki: Dear to Me. The promo material, as shown above, outlined the light versus dark dynamic the two couples would have in the show. The main couple would be the lighter love and the second couple would be the darker version. It also showcased that the main couple would be the loyal blues, and the second couple would be the defiant reds. Before the show even started, it told us there would be balance. One couple with their baked treats would be sugar and sweet, while the other couple with their torture tactics of chili peppers would be spice and everything-not-nice. It would be a group effort.

And once the fun got started, we got several color-coded cameos from couples in other well-known Taiwanese BLs, the Blinding Light of Love for both couples, and the pink light of love.

But it didn't stop there! The series gave the traditional color exchange between Blue Boy Zong Yi and his devoid-of-color future-husband Rui, but true to his word and actions, Zong Yi never took his color back. He was serious about his love and gave it ALL to Rui, which was also depicted by Zong Yi opening a bakery that specialized in strawberry goods, because in case it wasn't clear, strawberry =💗= love.

Even with all that, the second couple still stole the show for most viewers. Perhaps it was Eddie's rainbow cardigans and sweaters. It's possible it was Eddie's cat collars combined with Chen Yi's dog tags or the body pillows of each other that watched the other's back as they slept. Maybe it was the graffiti behind Chen Yi that stated he was "no good at goodbye" when he was lying to Eddie about needing him to help with business issues or that they continued to wear each other's clothing which WERE COLOR COORDINATED THE ENTIRE TIME!

Regardless of the exact reason people preferred one couple over the other, Kiseki: Dear to Me continued to serve a visual narrative that underlined the plot and provided additional context for both couples and the overall story. Color-coded boys in love get happy endings, and this series proved that.

Before the show even began.

[winchesterwild78]

Austin

Austin Master List

Chapter Warnings: Language, mentions of cheating, angst, phone sex-masturbation, Fluff, feels

A/N: Reader is new to the Austin area with her husband and teenage son. When a car accident brings her face to face with Jensen Ackles. Absolutely no disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not represent reality. This chapter is a little long, but I needed to set up the story. I edited this fast so please overlook any mistakes.

All work is my own, don’t take it

18+ Minors DNI

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

You sat at a stop light in downtown Austin. Music playing, singing loudly and windows down. The gentle Spring breeze blowing through your car and tossing your hair around. As the light turned green you started to go but slammed on the breaks to avoid the car that ran the red light. Unfortunately the car behind you couldn’t stop in time and ran into the back of you.

“Shit!” You said as you turned on your hazards and pulled to the side of the road. Of course the car that ran the red light was long gone but at least the driver who hit you pulled over too. You got out and walked to the other car. “You okay Sir?” You asked as the very tall man got out. “Yeah, I am so sorry. Are you okay” he asked as he approached you. “Yeah. I’m sure I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I’m okay.” You chuckled.

The two of you surveyed the damage. There wasn’t too much damage to either car, but he said he would call the police so there could be a record of the accident. You told him “No, it’s fine. Let’s just exchange information and let the insurance companies figure it out. No need to get the police involved.” You smiled.

You walked back to your car to get your information and get a paper to write down his. Something about him seemed familiar. You hadn’t been in Austin long, but he seemed familiar to you. You walked back to his car and stood on the side of the road waiting for him.

He walked over to you taking your information down and handing you his. Oh My God! You screamed in your head. The man that hit you was Jensen Ackles. As you read his information you slowly looked up at him with your mouth slightly open. He smiled coyly. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Figured this was easier than to tell you outright who I was.” He said. “Oh um, sorry I’m a huge fan and I’m just in shock. Here, don’t worry about the damage. I’ll take care of it” you stumbled over your words. “Absolutely not. It was my fault and I take responsibility for things I did.” He said.

You relented and agreed. “Well, it was nice to meet you Jensen. Regardless of the circumstances.” “It was nice to meet you too, Y/N. I hope you’re not too sore tomorrow.” He smiled. You smiled back. “Oh let me give you my new number. The one on that is wrong. In case your insurance company needs to get in touch with me” you said writing down your number. He nodded and the two of you went on your way.

You drove home and when you walked in the door you were greeted by your son. He was a teenager who was brooding because he didn’t want to move across the country and away from his friends. “Hey kiddo. How are you today” you asked with a smile. He rolled his eyes “fine”. “Look, I know this is hard on you. I’m sorry we uprooted your life and moved here but we did what we thought was best for all of us.” You told him. “Yeah right. You moved to get away from dad’s girlfriend and try and save your marriage.” He growled. You looked at your son shocked and a little hurt. You thought you hid all of that from him. Tears pricked your eyes “I’m sorry. I really am.” You walked to your bedroom.

You closed your door and sat on your bed crying softly. He was right. You found out your husband was having an affair with a younger woman and it broke your heart. You’d given him everything. He swore he wouldn’t do it again but you decided to move anyway. The company he worked for had an opening in Austin so he transferred and y’all moved. He was dedicated to saving your marriage for a while. Now it seems like you are back to square one. He’s distant, rejecting your advances and taking phone calls away from you. You’re trying to make it work. You love him and would do anything to save your marriage.

A few hours passed and you heard the front door. Your husband was home. He came upstairs and found you lying on the bed. “What happened to the car” he asked. “I got into an accident today. Was hit from behind. Everything is okay. I’ll call the insurance company tomorrow and give them the information. How was your day” you asked. “It was fine. Where’s Jacob. I didn’t see his car outside.” He asked. “He’s probably exploring the city. Um, he knows about the affair. I don’t know how, but he knows. He knows that’s why we moved here too.” You told your husband. “Shit! I thought we kept it from him. Great, now he probably hates me too. Maybe you should have just left me.” He said harshly.

“Please stop. I don’t hate you. We agreed to work on us. I love you and I’m trying my best. I’m not ready to give up on us, but are you saying you are” you asked him as tears fell from your eyes. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m exhausted and need to shower.” He walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

You got up and felt your heart breaking all over again. Your mind drifted to the accident. Jensen was so sweet and kind. You smiled at his kindness. You walked in the kitchen and started to cook dinner. You heard the shower running so you knew your husband was in the shower. You sent your son a text.

You: Hey honey, I’m sorry I kept things from you. I was trying to protect you. I’m cooking dinner and would love for you to be home to eat.

Jacob: I will. I appreciate you trying to protect me, but who’s protecting you? I can’t believe Dad would do that to you.

You: Honey I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. This isn’t your fight. Your dad made a mistake and I don’t want that to ruin your relationship with him. He loves you.

Jacob: I know he does. I just need time. Love you Ma, I’ll be home shortly.

You: okay baby. I love you too. Be careful.

You put your phone down and started cooking dinner.

*Across Town*

Jensen pulled in his driveway and Danneel came to the door to greet her husband. When she saw the car her eyes went wide. “Jensen, what happened. Are you okay?” “Yeah, just a minor accident. Not too much damage to either car and the other driver is okay.” He said. Jensen smiled slightly at the thought of you. Danneel noticed but didn’t say anything. They both walked in the house. He could hear his children playing somewhere in the house. Their laughter filled the air. “So Jensen, what are you going to do about the accident. Did you call the police, exchange information, is some stranger going to show up here demanding money?” She fired questions at him. “No, I was going to call the police but she didn’t want me to because there wasn’t a lot of damage, we exchanged insurance information and other pertinent information, and nobody is going to come here asking for money. When she realized who I was she was willing to pay for the damages herself. I insisted that I pay since the accident was my fault.” He told his wife. “Okay, Jensen. Just don’t get taken advantage of.” She said with a sour voice. He nodded and walked away.

You were standing in your kitchen waiting for your husband and son. Dinner was done and you could still hear the shower running. Jacob came in and got washed up for dinner after giving you a hug. You went upstairs to check on your husband since he had been in the shower a really long time. As you approached the door you heard voices and what sounded like grunts. Then you heard a woman moaning. At first you thought he was watching porn and getting off. What you heard next confirmed your fear. He was still cheating. “Oh Cindi, touch yourself. Mmm, yeah. Just like that. Fuck! I wish I was pounding that sweet little pussy again.” You stood there unable to move. “Soon baby. I can’t wait to move there. Then we can be together again. Oh Rob I’m going to cum.” “Cum for me baby girl. I’m right there with you.” You heard her moan and scream and him grunt. Still unable to move you felt like throwing up and tears streamed down your face.

You willed yourself to move when you heard the shower turn off. “I love you Rob” she said. “I love you too Cindi. Let me know when you get in town and I’ll meet you.” Your husband said.

You walked back downstairs to the kitchen. Your son saw you and stood up. “Mom, what’s wrong. What happened” he asked with panic in his voice. “Oh no, I’m okay. I guess the car accident earlier gave me a bad creak in my neck. I turned around wrong and something popped. I’m just in some pain. I’ll be okay. I’m sorry I worried you.” You lied to your son. You weren’t sure if he believed you but he sat down. Your husband joined dinner a few minutes later and noticed you had been crying. He took your hand and asked if you were okay. You pulled your hand back and nodded yes. Now that, your son noticed. Your husband looked at you confused but started eating.

At Jensen’s house he was enjoying a quiet dinner at home with his wife and kids. The kids talked and giggled and Jensen smiled at his kids. He glanced over at Danneel and she looked like she was deep in thought. “Hey D, you okay” he asked. “Um, yeah. I’m fine. Hey um the girls and I wanted to get together tonight is that cool.” She asked. “Yeah, go have some fun. The kiddos and I will be fine.” Jensen said smiling at his kids. “Okay great. Thanks babe.” She smiled then took out her phone and sent a text. Jensen noticed how her face lit up with the incoming text but brushed it off.

After dinner you cleaned up the kitchen and told Jacob and Rob you were going for a drive to explore the city some. Jacob offered to go with you but you turned him down. Rob told you goodbye and seemed a little too excited you were leaving. You got in your car and drove to downtown. You figured it was the best place to see the area and find some good places to shop.

It wasn’t long before you found an old ice cream shop and decided to go in. You sat at the counter and an older woman greeted you with a warm smile and a hello. You smiled and asked her for some mint chocolate chip ice cream in a bowl. She smiled and said “coming right up dear”. Then she went to fill your order. You looked around the shop and it was pretty empty. You heard the bell above the door ringing and the sound of children giggling asking for different kids of treats. You heard a man’s voice telling them to calm down a little and to have a seat in the booth. You turned at the sound of the voice. It was Jensen and his children. He saw you and looked surprised and you offered him a soft smile. He approached you and said “hey Y/N. I can’t believe I’ve run into you twice in one day. At least this time I didn’t damage your car.” You snorted and turned red. The older woman came back with your order and you thanked her. Jensen turned to her and said “Howdy Ms Betty, how are you doing today.” “Well Jensen Ackles, it’s good to see you honey. I see you have the kiddos with you. Where’s D” she asked. “She’s out with some friends tonight. Can we get the usual and 4 spoons please.” He said politely. “Coming right up sweetie. Give D my love”. She said as she turned around.

Jensen looked at you smirking at him. “We are regulars. Been coming here for years. Ms Betty is like a grandma to all of us. Her and her husband opened this place decades ago.” He said to you. You nodded and smiled taking a bite of your ice cream. You didn’t mean to but you moaned loudly. Jensen laughed and you blushed. “Sorry. That’s just the best ice cream I’ve ever had.” He smiled and nodded. His daughter, JJ came up to him and told him she wanted her own ice cream because she was old enough now. He smiled at her and nodded. “Hmm daddy’s girl” you smiled. “Since the day she was born” he said. “Um, excuse me Ms Betty, JJ has decided to get her own. You mind putting some in a separate bowl for her please.” He asked sweetly.

Your chest warmed at his kindness and his smile. Ms Betty returned with his order and as he turned to walk to the booth he leaned over and said “if you think that one is good, wait until you try the chocolate brownie. It’s orgasmic”. You met his green eyes as you swallowed hard and your thighs clenched together. You bit your lip and he walked away.

You could hear his children engaged in a lively conversation with him and ever so often you would hear him laugh a deep hearty laugh. The kids giggles filled the shop. You smiled as you ate. Once you were done you got up to pay your bill and Jensen came up behind you. You could feel the heat coming from him as he stood close to you. “How was it sweetie” Ms Betty asked you. “Oh it was the best ice cream I’ve ever had. I need to bring my son, Jacob here. It might lift his spirits. He’s still a little out of sorts from the move.” You said. Ms Betty took your hand and said “oh honey, you bring him here and I’ll fix him right up. I’ve always said ice cream is a cure all.” You smiled and nodded. As you tried to pay the bill Jensen told Ms Betty to add it to his. He told her about the car accident this morning. You tried to argue but it was Ms Betty and Jensen against you. There was no use.

As you started to leave you turned to tell Jensen thank you. “Thank you for that. You didn’t have to pay for my ice cream. I told you this morning it was just an accident and everything was fine.” “It’s nothing, really. So how old is your son” he asked. Oh he’s 16. He’s upset we moved here. We didn’t have a choice really. My husband’s job transferred him out here. So we packed and moved.” You almost told Jensen the real reason but you stopped yourself. You’re actually not sure why you almost told him. You told him good night and thank you again then left.

As you drove home Jensen was on your mind and then you started thinking about Rob and Cindi. Was she really moving here. You moved across the country to get away from her and now she’s following you. You should have just stayed where you were and left his ass.

Just as you pulled in your driveway your phone went off with a text notification.

Unknown: Hey Y/N, this is Jensen. I hope you don’t mind me texting. It was good seeing you tonight. I meant what I said about the chocolate brownie ice cream. 😆

You: Hey, Jensen. No it’s fine you texted. It was great seeing you and meeting your kids. Maybe next time I can meet your wife. I’ll keep that in mind about the ice cream.

You saved his contact information and smiled. You walked in the house to find Jacob on the couch and your husband no where to be found. “Hey Jacob. Where’s your dad” you asked. Jacob shrugged “I guess upstairs. He disappeared after you left. Did you find anything interesting in town.” “Yeah a really good ice cream shop. I want to take you to soon.” You said. You kissed the top of his head and told him good night. “Night mom. Love you” he said. You smiled as you walked upstairs.

When you walked into your bedroom your husband was asleep in the bed. You noticed his clothes were off. You changed and crawled into bed. Rob was snoring softly so you rolled over and scrolled through social media. Somehow you ended up on Jensen’s account. You smiled looking through his posts. As you were scrolling a new post popped up. It was taken tonight at the ice cream shop. The picture was of him and the kids. The caption made you chuckle. “Took the kids to a local spot for ice cream. Next time I’m going to have the chocolate brownie. 😏”

You liked the photo and commented “I heard it’s mind blowing. Ms Betty makes amazing ice cream.” Your phone went off

Jensen: mind blowing huh? 😏

You: well I believe I was told orgasmic but I didn’t think I should post that. 🤭

Jensen: probably not. So what are you doing

You: just laying in bed scrolling social media. Now I’m talking to you 😝

Jensen: I’m in bed too. The kids crashed hard. D is still out with her friends. Can I ask you something?

You: yeah, sure.

Jensen: you said you moved here for your husband but you were at the ice cream shop alone. Was he at work?

You: No. He was at home. He didn’t want to go out with me tonight. No biggie. I’m used to it.

Jensen: oh. I’m sorry Y/N.

You: Thank you.

You: Well I need to get some sleep. Talk to you later Jensen. Good night.

Jensen: Yeah. Talk to you later Y/N. Good night.

You put your phone down and closed your eyes. You heard your phone ding and smiled when you looked at it.

Jensen requested to follow you on Instagram and put his phone down. He sat back thinking about you and the events of the day. A twinge of guilt crept into his chest as he thought about Danneel. He loves his wife but there is something about you that excites him. He smiled when he saw you accepted his request.

You both drifted off to sleep smiling. Not knowing why either of you felt the pull towards each other.

Tags: @nescaveckdaily @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak

[escapingrealityforamoment]

Jeremiah Fisher has entered the chat… my first go at a Jeremiah imagine 🙈 hope you guys like it!

A local girl, (Y/N), and Jeremiah Fisher find a summer romance at the beach house bonfire, changing their lives forever.

You, (Y/N), have always been a local at the beach where Jeremiah Fisher's family owns a beach house. Every summer, you'd catch glimpses of him and his family, knowing them as familiar faces around town. There was always an air of mystery surrounding Jeremiah, an unspoken allure that drew you in.

This summer, however, everything changed on the night of the first bonfire of the season. The beach was alive with laughter and music, as locals and vacationers gathered around the crackling flames. You found yourself standing near the fire, chatting with friends, when you noticed Jeremiah out of the corner of your eye. He was leaning against a driftwood log, his dark hair tousled by the ocean breeze.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to strike up a conversation. With a nervous smile, you approached him. "Hey, Jeremiah. Long time no see."

He turned to you, his gaze warm and inviting. "Hey, (Y/N). Yeah, it's been a while. How have you been?"

As the conversation flowed effortlessly between you, you discovered that there was more to Jeremiah than meets the eye. Behind his brooding exterior, you found a kind soul with a genuine interest in getting to know you. Time seemed to fly by as you laughed and shared stories, your hearts connecting amidst the vibrant atmosphere of the bonfire.

The night air was filled with the scent of salt and sea, and the sky above was studded with stars. The beach was awash in the soft glow of the fire, casting a warm, intimate ambiance. You and Jeremiah moved away from the crowd, finding a quiet spot by the water's edge. The waves lapped gently at the shore, creating a soothing rhythm that echoed the beat of your heart.

"I've seen you around every summer," he confessed softly, his voice barely audible over the crashing waves. "But this summer feels different. Being here with you, talking to you... It's like everything has changed."

Your heart skipped a beat as you locked eyes with him, feeling an electric spark between you. "I feel it too," you whispered, your voice barely carrying above the sound of the ocean. "There's something about this summer, about being here with you."

As the night wore on, the crowd began to disperse, leaving just the two of you behind. The crackling flames provided a comforting backdrop as Jeremiah took a step closer, his eyes filled with a mixture of uncertainty and longing.

In that moment, the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you under the moonlit sky. And as Jeremiah leaned in, closing the distance between you, you knew that this summer would be unlike any other.

His lips met yours in a gentle, tender kiss that sent shivers down your spine. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring you together at that very moment. The taste of salt lingered on your lips, a sweet reminder of the beach and the magic it held.

As you pulled away, both of you were breathless, and a blush colored your cheeks. "I never expected this," Jeremiah admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. "But I'm glad it happened."

You smiled, feeling a newfound sense of joy and anticipation. "Me too."

From that night on, your connection with Jeremiah deepened. You spent lazy afternoons on the beach, watching the sun dip below the horizon, and shared secrets under the starlit sky. Each moment brought you closer, and it felt like the summer was slipping away too quickly.

But as the season drew to a close, you knew that this wasn't the end. The magic of that first bonfire had ignited something special between you and Jeremiah, something that would endure beyond the summer. And as you looked forward to the future, you were grateful for the serendipitous turn of events that had changed everything, all because of a bonfire on a summer night.

[jackie5656]

I’ve Got My Love To Keep Me Warm With; Anthony Lockwood

A/N: HEYYYYY. Well if it isn't another six-month hiatus...I fear I've done this too many times to keep apologizing. There are some long-overdue requests in my inbox, and for that I truly am sorry. With college, work, family, I'm not sure how you guys keep up with finding the time or motivation to write. Nonetheless, I just recently re-watched this amazing show, and I'm yet again horrified Netflix canceled it. I put a holiday spin on this and I hope you all like it!

CW: Characters are aged up. I wouldn't be comfortable w/ this if they were played by minors but that's not the case. Let's also pretend ppl don't typically lose their gift til their mid-20s

You're getting ready on the floor of 35 Portland Row's master bedroom. Makeup is littered all around you as you add the finishing touches. The smell of cookies flows from the kitchen all throughout your home, ones you'll decorate later upon Lucy's request. Christmas music sounds from the record player in the living room, crackling every now and again with its age.

Lockwood's leant up against the door frame, moving silently to the worn armchair across you. You can feel his eyes on you, quietly admiring, yet still brooding from a recent look at the newspaper. Kipps and his team were beaming brightly across the front page, having just solved yet another notary case on behalf of Fittes.

"I've told you not to read the papers on our day off, haven't I?" He's pulled out of his trance then, adjusting his slouched shoulders as though he's been caught.

"A bunch of posh showoffs, think their ridiculous uniforms and bureaucratic nonsense makes them superior. I swear-"

"Anthony."

"Yes, darling?" It's through clenched teeth, blinking hard to regain his composure. You brush on your mascara, still chastising when you face the mirror once more.

"It's our day off, isn't it?"

"Because we have yet to find another case-" He stops himself under your look of warning through the glass, fiddling with his rings and straightening. "I suppose it is our day off, yes."

"We don't have much of those, do we?" You approach him, then. Voice soft and sweet, unknowingly easing his tense stature with each syllable. He only hums, forehead pressing into your stomach as you run gentle fingers through his hair, careful not to disrupt the intricately combed strands. "We need this. You need this. So let's make it a good one, yeah?"

"Tell that to George. Why must we do the holiday card today?"

"We're all available, Scrooge. And if I'm not mistaken, this was your idea. Something along the lines of 'it's good for business, people are seeking a company with a personable image, clients need people to relate to-" You only stop your mimicking when he pinches at your side. The overly-posh, deep reenactment enough to bring a reluctant smirk to Anthony's lips.

"I do not sound like that." He tugs at your hips so you'll sit on the arm of the chair he's rested in, keeping an arm wrapped over your stomach and knees to settle you against him.

"Bunch of bureaucratic-" Your own yelp ceases your teasing, the arm that's snaked around you tugging hard enough to have you fall into his lap and victim to his incessant poking at your stomach and sides. Your squirming is no use, both of your laughter echoing throughout the room as you hopelessly swat at his hands.

He stops his torture eventually, avoiding an oncoming lecture on how he's ruined your neatly done hair with his tickling. You're breathless under him, stretching out over him to glance at the other mirror just above the dresser. Even with the reflection upside down, you're able to tell you'll have to redo multiple curls. He's grabbing at you before you can scold him, hand under your head to pull your faces just inches apart.

"Stop it. You look lovely." He's pulling out the charm, of course. Voice low and hoarse, the tone that he knows damn well well sets your skin on fire. He's smug then, knowing smirk playing over his dark features as his eyes dart to your lips and then to yours.

"Looked lovely." You correct, breathless all over again. His eyes narrow, incredulous.

"Can I prove it to you?" He moves only slightly closer, swallowing thickly as his thumb traces your bottom lip. You almost let him, nearly succumbing to his enchantments. Only when his lips are nearly on yours do you turn your head, keen on revenge for his sabotage.

"You've already toyed with my hair, I'll send George spiraling if I had to redo my makeup."

Lockwood, genuine betrayal littered across his face, can't even plead his case before your roommate takes his cue.

"Oi!" His shout rings from downstairs, tinged with impatience and growing irritation. "You two better be fully clothed and picture-perfect in five minutes. The camera's ready!"

Anthony can only bury his face in your neck, sore attitude overcoming him all over again.

****

"Wait!" Lucy exclaims just as the flash of the camera ensues, voice strained with exasperation. "I wasn't ready!" There's a collective groan from the lot of you, George shuffling past the redhead to reset the camera. You take the time to fix Lockwood's collar, dodging his swatting, grumpy hands.

"I assume ghost touch is a more amenable torture than this," he mutters pointedly.

"You wanted the bloody holiday card, Lockwood. And I'm the only one with enough creative vision to make the lot of you look remotely presentable." There's a collective sneer toward him, though he doesn't notice with all his tinkering with the outdated lense. Of course, George had insisted using film would make the photos hold a 'certain sense of novelty' that couldn't possibly be reproduced with less difficult equipment. "Take five, this might take a while." He waves you all off, adjusting his glasses and muttering a string of unintelligible curses as he works.

Lucy turns to you then, biting back a smile as Lockwood flushes under your doting hands, trying desperately to maintain his grouchy disposition. "Where's your chapstick, the strawberry one-"

"You always steal?" You cease grooming your boyfriend, to his relief, in order to tease her. Smiling when she only sticks out her tongue in mock disdain, already headed for the stairs and presumably your bedroom. "Right side of the bureau, just above Anthony's sock drawer." Your tone grows into a shout to accommodate her distance, grabbing onto Lockwood's wrist so he can't escape away to the study.

"Love you lots!" She calls from upstairs, most definitely making more of a mess of the bedroom in her search.

"Would you unhand me, dove? Pretty sure you're cutting circulation." He's got your attention again, face pulled with irritation. The bags under his eyes look particularly apparent this close, a dull ache in your heart at the sight. It's apparent the attitude is only due to all the stress he puts himself under. The pet name a clear sign the animosity is by no means directed at you. You smirk despite him, digging into your back pocket and ignoring his then curious expression.

Only when you get closer does he catch on. Socked feet clumsily stepping on his boot-covered ones to attempt to gain height, your arm reaches up above both your heads. Letting his eyes follow yours, Anthony can't help but let a dazzling smile spread across his features. Stubborn nature no match against the warmth and adoration overcoming him at the slightly crumpled branch above him.

"Is that-"

"Yep." You mutter, straining under the effort to reach above his head. His gaze is on your face then, arm snaking around the smalll of your back to keep you steady. "You're supposed to-"

"Oh, I know. But I'm having so much fun watching this." A small pout puckers your lip at his teasing, tone filled with the familiar mirth and smugness you hadn't known you missed so much with his solemn mood.

"Forget it then, Grinch." Your reaching arm falls to your side, attempting to push at his chest to force distance between you.

The camera flashes just as Anthony pulls you in for a kiss. Soft and sweet, each of you eventually smiling into it.

"I'm not developing that one." George frowns, adjusting the lens before shooting a pointed look to Lockwood, who loosens his hold only slightly on you. "You've got shade 205 right here, mate." The curly-haired boy draws an imaginary circle around the entirety of his mouth. Anthony scrubs his sleeve across his face at George's comments. Flushing as you laugh into his chest.

Taglist: @sunshineangel-reads

[puffcap-factory]

Raindrop (Neuvillette x reader)

Neuvillette x gn!reader; Angst, pure angst in a somewhat established relationship, reader’s implied death.

The story is set when the reader’s time is running out (of whatever cause you can imagine), and Neuvillette is sad. The reader is implied to be Fontainian. 

Words: 1k

Notes:  Finally, a genshin fic other than Wriothesley! I literally wrote this when I was listening to Pluie sur la ville (definitely recommended on listening the ost while reading this one!!!!! I recommend this music box version for this fic tho, it fits so well) and imagined Neuvillette brooding over something. That’s why this fic is short, cos I basically just wanted a story of Neuvillette basically feeling angsty heheheh

Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :D

•~•~•~•

Swish. Swish.

With each pull of the oar, the water responded in kind flow, sending out delicate ripples that painted the pond's surface. Pink flower petals twirled to the movement of the waves, a graceful accompaniment to the wooden paddle's gentle strokes. 

The boat drifted leisurely through the clear water, its movement smooth and serene, like a dream on liquid glass. The rustling of the wind added its voice to the nature, tousling your hair as you reached to fix it. 

The man seated across from you returned your gaze with a warm, genuine smile. His eyes seemed to hold a depth that mirrored the tranquil pond, and his smile filled the space between you. In this secluded forest of Erinnyes, it felt as though the entire world had faded away, leaving just the two of you to share the moment.

As the boat reached the center of the pond, he gently set down the oar. You took the moment to reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

But your eyes wandered to the water rippling near the pond's edge, fed by a nearby creek. The question escaped your lips as you voiced your curiosity, as you held his hands in yours.

"Do you think that… water possesses the will to flow freely?"

Neuvillette met your gaze, his expression thoughtful as he pondered your unexpected question. After a moment, he spoke, his voice carrying a hint of contemplation.

“I would like to believe that they do, why?”

His answer brought a bittersweet smile to your lips as you kept your gaze to the creek. You brought his hand to your cheek, savoring the warmth of his touch. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to close your eyes, as if to capture this fleeting moment, knowing it might be the last time you two would have such a peaceful interlude together.

“I just want to know…,” you paused, the words catching in your throat before you continued, “so when the time comes, I can… find you.”

As you opened your eyes, you found Neuvillette still, his expression hiding a mix of fear and sadness beneath his composed facade. You already knew him well enough to see the emotions hidden behind his eyes. 

Neuvillette sighed heavily, lowering his head and letting his hand fall to his side. His gaze shifted to the side, facing the waters of the pond. He knew full well what the future held, as much as he dreaded it, it was inevitable.

“One day, Neuvillette, once I become the water itself, I’d be happy to visit you anytime,” you said softly.

The cloudy skies overhead seemed to mirror the heaviness in your heart. As much as you dreaded broaching this topic, especially at this tranquil moment, you felt the pressing weight of your impending fate. The time left for the both of you to enjoy each other’s company had grown short, each passing moment a reminder like of the ticking clock.

“Promise me, love, that you would move on. Just as water finds its way, no matter how many obstacles it faces, no matter how lost it may seem,” you whispered, your voice sweet and tender, as if to ease his pain, just as your own.

Neuvillette’s heart clenched at your words, the reality of your mortality weighing heavily on his shoulders. As the hydro dragon sovereign, he knew all too well that your time with him was fleeting, a mere fraction of his own eternity. 

“I haven’t got to say this before, but,” you paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I really do cherish the time with you. The years we've spent together have been everything to me,” you mustered the strength to speak, pouring your heart out, as your voice began to tremble.

Pitter. Patter. 

The sound of raindrops began to fill the air, as light rain fell upon the surface of the pond. Neuvillette remained still, his head turned away, keeping the emotions stirring within him as his brows furrowed. 

But you already knew him well enough to understand what he was feeling, what the rain meant. You immediately leaned forward, cupping his face in your hands as you gently caressed his cheeks. “Oh, my Hydro Dragon, please don’t weep…”

Neuvillette met your gaze, pain evident in his eyes. He understood your attempt to comfort him, to ease his sorrow, as the warmth of your hand seeped into him.

But why could he see tears rolling down your cheeks? 

•~•~•~•

Swish. Swish.

Neuvillette stood at the water's edge, his gaze fixed on the waves, ebbing and flowing gently. The rhythm of their motion seemed to echo the gentle beating of his own heart. The sky above was serene, a canvas of quietude painted by the sound of the crashing waves. 

Despite his busy days, there were moments like these when Neuvillette couldn't help but feel swept away by a wave of nostalgia. It was as if the water itself was reaching out to him, whispering memories of days gone by.

As if you had come to visit him every now and then.

He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to fully embrace the tranquility of the scene before him. The rhythmic swish of the waves, the soft caress of the sea breeze on his skin – it all felt like a familiar embrace. Exhaling slowly, Neuvillette savored this fleeting sense of peace, letting go of the weight of his responsibilities for just a moment longer…

However, the role of Iudex remained. With a reluctant sigh, he opened his eyes and gazed out to the horizon. It was time to step back from the shore, to leave behind this moment of solace and return to the duties that awaited him.

A man of few words – Neuvillette carried the memory of you deep within his heart, a cherished treasure that he held onto tightly. As he made his way back, the gentle lull of the waves behind him seemed to bid him farewell. No matter how busy his days became, your presence would always linger in the depths of his soul.

[anitalenia]

━━━ .°˖✧ opposites attract ⋆˙⊹

꒰ঌ definition ໒꒱ 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑓𝑠, 𝑜�� 𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑤𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚. one of my favs.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ below you will find sub genres under this category, as well as some useful pairings for this trope. for educational writing purposes <3

note: several of these can also be used in other tropes as well, just depends on how you write it and interpret it.

╰₊✧ ﾟOTHER LINKS . ྀི ⊹ masterlist | romance tropes | taglist | prompt list | symbol packs | dividers page

꒰ঌ group one ໒꒱

tall x short | sunshine x grumpy | golden retriever boyfriend x black cat girlfriend | nice x mean | introvert x extrovert | werewolf x vampire | hunter x creature | flirty x shy | aggressive x passive | brooding x gentle

꒰ঌ group two ໒꒱

funny x serious | death x life | god x worshipper | sun x moon | water x fire | cold x hot | angel x demon | holy x sin | heaven x hell | succubus x priest | ‘ugly’ man x pretty girl (jessica rabbit x roger rabbit) | yin x yang

꒰ঌ group three ໒꒱

all work x all play | dark defender x light liege | masc girl x fem boy | magical being x average human | clumsy x graceful | energetic x savvy/chill | sensitive x guard dog | smart x dummy | needing to be saved x always saving

꒰ঌ group four ໒꒱

tiny girl x huge guy | tomboy x girly girl | uptight x wild | gossiper x unbothered | summer x winter | jock x bookworm | goth x nerdy boy | smart ass x peace maker | confrontational x pacifist | family-oriented x no family

꒰ঌ group five ໒꒱

black x white | troubled x innocent | rich x poor | polite x hotheaded | ditzy x cool and calm | shoot first ask questions later x ask questions first shoot if necessary | focuses on small details x looks at the bigger picture

꒰ঌ group six ໒꒱

foodie x health enthusiast | bimbo x manly man (im talking flannels, beards, cabins, ykyk) | materialistic x doesn’t even own a pen | untrusting of people x overly trusting of people | negative x positive | starts fights x has to finish them

꒰ঌ group seven ໒꒱

love kids x hates them | loves pets x hates pets | pervert (flirty af) x naive | always making a move x oblivious to the moves | fuckboy x virgin | messy x ocd | anxious x unbothered | emotionally unavailable x overly affectionate

꒰ঌ group eight ໒꒱

always needs attention x gamer | romantic x can barely say I love you | home food x fast food | vegetarian x basically a carnivore | long hair x short hair | does all the work x pillow princess | loves dressing up x wears pajamas everywhere

꒰ঌ group nine ໒꒱

reckless and adventurous x terrified of any new experience | always getting injured x doctor | partier x homebody | smoker x drinker | hippie x white collar | saves money x spends every paycheck | makes plans and prepares for every scenario x goes with the flow ‘whatever happens happens’

꒰ঌ group ten ໒꒱

minimalistic x bohemian | dips fries in ketchup x drenches fries in ketchup | loves to dance x what’s a rhythm? | life of the party x hates attention | toilet paper facing you x toilet paper facing away from you

꒰ঌ group eleven ໒꒱

breaks a kitkat x bites into it like a madman | reecies x reesuhs | criminal x cop | butterflies x moths | shoplifts every time they go to a store x has never committed a crime | sneakerhead x heels | lipgloss x matte

꒰ঌ group twelve ໒꒱

team captain america x team ironman | mcdonalds x burger king | country music x rap music | early bird x sleeps in late | morning person x night person | sunset x sunrise | alfredo x spaghetti | shrimp x lobster | pepsi x coke

꒰ঌ group thirteen ໒꒱

wolf boy x bunny girl | thunderstorm x blizzard | stars x cloud | hello kitty x kuromi | atheist x bible thumper | loves laughing x barely smiles | round x thin | always takes pictures x hates having their picture taken

will update when I think of new ones. hope this helps if you’re not sure what story to tell but you want something new <3

[jjungkookislife]

Baby Kicks Pt. 2

pairing: husband!jungkook x pregnant wife!reader

genre: expecting parents au, fluff, 18+

summary: Jungkook busies himself with laundry.

wc: 817

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, apprehensiveness/anxiety about being a first-time parent

date: April 15, 2023

Jungkook keeps his music low, humming along as he fixes the mood lamp on the coffee table. All day he’s busied himself with laundry, washing your clothing, his, and everything for his son.

Piles and piles of folded clothing sit all around him. Multiple trips to his son’s bedroom to put everything away by size and color have occupied most of his night. He’d taken extra care with the denim jacket he’d bought recently, one that matched his own. You’d giggled when he’d shown you a black leather jacket similar to his, informing him that Mini-Me would outgrow it faster than he thought. Jungkook simply smiled, pulling out six more identical jackets in various sizes. 

You had gone to bed hours ago, but Jungkook could hear you rolling from side to side, grunting as you tried to get comfortable. Blackjack had peeped his head over his bed, looking toward the bedroom before staring at Jungkook with those dark, brooding eyes. Jungkook swears Blackjack still has it out for him after the couch incident.

Jungkook had helped you pack your hospital bag earlier, deciding to wash everything in your home just in case your baby arrived sooner than expected. You were so close to your due date, more than ready to meet your son and hopefully be able to lie down comfortably as well.

At the moment, Jungkook had a pile of his Calvin Klein boxers in his laundry basket. All brand new, but all washed before he wore them. You never know what clothing has been through before wearing it right off the rack or right out of a package. Besides, he liked his clothing smelling good, and he enjoyed doing laundry, so it wasn’t a big deal for him. In fact, the reason he was washing his new underwear was that his had mysteriously disappeared or had popped back up with tiny holes that matched Blackjack’s little teeth. You say it’s all circumstantial evidence, but Blackjack seems to yap every time Jungkook takes his underwear out of the laundry basket. Suspicious.

After folding his underwear and socks, he places everything back into the basket to carry to your bedroom. He’s quiet as he puts it away, the room illuminated by the glow of the lamp on the nightstand. He does his best to hurry, but as he shuts the last drawer, you’re calling his name.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks as he sets the basket aside and jogs to your side, his eyes immediately scoping out any signs of distress.

“I can’t sleep,” you groan as you sit up, pillows supporting your back. “He won’t stop moving.”

Jungkook smiles softly. His hand rests on your rounded belly as he coos. “Go to sleep, Mini-Me.”

You laugh when there’s a kick in response. Probably wasn’t the best idea to call Jungkook over, but you’re tired and hopeful he’ll be able to settle your son. Jungkook is not one to give up easily. He climbs into bed beside you, scooting close to your stomach as he talks to your child. His hand rubs gentle circles into your skin, singing softly when he notes your eyes close and your breathing evens out.

“I can’t wait to meet you, little one. You’re going to be so cute,” Jungkook whispers, his hair falling over his eyes as he kisses your stomach. Smiling, Jungkook carefully settles into his side of the bed. He’s been apprehensive about his son’s arrival. He’s never held a baby before. He worries he’ll drop his son or perhaps his son won’t like him, and he’ll cry any time he holds him.

Jungkook read several books, took notes, and even practiced installing the car seat and taking it out just to do it again. He wants to be the perfect dad and wants Mini-Me to be so loved and never want for anything.

Some nights, his thoughts keep him awake until the birds are chirping and the sun is rising, streaming through the cracks in the curtains. You always assure him, kiss him until his worries turn minuscule, and as the days fly by and the due date hangs over his head, the nervousness grows. He knows you’ll be amazing. How could you not be? 

“Jungkook,” your soft voice startles him as your hand reaches for his. 

“Yes?” he asks in response, his tongue feeling like lead.

“Are you okay?” you ask gently, knowing that his thoughts are probably running rampant with worry. 

“I will be,” Jungkook answers honestly as he scoots closer to you. 

“He’ll love you, Koo. There’s no way he won’t,” you grin. “He kicks every time he hears your voice. More so when you sing to him.”

Jungkook feels reassured, nodding as he blinks the tears from his eyes.

“Come on,” you encourage Jungkook. “Let’s get some sleep before Mini-Me gets here. We’ll need it.”

“Goodnight, baby,” Jungkook kisses your cheek. “Goodnight, Mini-Me. Sleep tight.”

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thank you for reading! ♡ if you liked it, please let me know! 💌

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