#that's what happens when you fall in love with the sketch

[asmogorna]

Okay so there’s this ww artist on ig called like tooth lilys or something and he’s always causing drama in the ww fandom and he mouthed off about your art and now heaps of insta ww fans are like talking about you :| free publicity?

ahhhh so thats whats happening .. lmao thats crazy

i checked out their story, and i sure doooo love how they leave some things out when talking about both situations that they mentioned to make me look worse ..

ok so

warning, yap session incoming

the "will wood in a (miku) binder" thing happened back in fall 2023 when i was still semi new to the fandom and didnt know a lot of things. so tho i to this day i dont think it was that big of a deal, i wouldnt do it today

it was an artwork made for shits and giggles, the context of which i have explained here before. i never meant to imply that will wood is trans and i certainly dont "headcanon" him as that. my curse is that even when joking around i tend to try and make my art look good, so i get why people thought it was unironic. and i know that it sounds like a lame ass excuse, but it legit didnt cross my mind that people would think i drew will wood as a trans guy or smth. legit my only thought process was "funny haha internet thing" + "my favorite thing" = "good idea"

now the usage of his real name is something i am genuinely sorry for, but it was an accident and a genuine mistake on my part. i remember seeing someone mention it casually in some comment section, and assuming that it was ok, since i didnt know he was in any way against it. (i also thought that it was the same name that he used in "the real will wood" in that one section cus it sounded a bit similar).

when i was informed about the fact that he doesnt want it spread around i deleted the post right away and apologized, so bringing it up like something i did on purpose and out of malicious intent is a tad bit .. misfitting, if you can use that word

now the hot topic of the day: my waywood art

i have said this before and i will say this again, how i feel about rpf is solely based off how the people involved feel about it

to clarify: i never drew anything inappropriate or even suggestive with them, the "worst" thing is 2 simple sketches of them smoochin. or. this.

idk if this is what they were referring to when talking about me drawing will wood and gerard way "making out" (specifically. because i think "making out" implies to be more sexual stuff than small kisses). and if so, then it once again feels like blowing things out of proportion

and now the point i want you to get: will wood wouldnt give a flying fuck

like i said earlier, i never drew anything inappropriate, because that would actually cross will's existent and real boundaries. you know, the ones that he stated

im not making some conspiracy theories about him being gay, like some people seem to imply in their inbox messages to me

im not sending a whole ass smut fanfiction to litwtc gmail or something, i dont bother him in instagram dms asking if he wants to fuck gerard way, im not shipping him with people who he actually knows personally and has to look in the eyes of from time to time

im not doing anything that he would actually care about

him and chris have joked about him being attracted to gerard before, and though im not saying that you can joke about everything theyve ever joked about, i feel like in our case its clear that will clearly doesnt care about the implications ? (i generally believe that ww fans would get their panties twisted about less things if more of them listened to what these 2 talk about so calmly on litwtc but i digress)

if he saw that some random teenager on tumblr is drawing him and gerard way (gasp of horror) holding hands, he'd laugh at it max and then move on with his day

people are treating the whole situation like i posted pictures of him from when he was a kid or leaked patreon content or drew him fully naked or anything else that, you know, would actually affect him in one way or another

what im doing is innocent fun which isnt even likely to reach either of them. will wood very rarely checks tumblr and, once again, i genuinely dont believe he would care. and gerard way aint got no internet + he doesnt care x 2

it is weird but rn this is what brings me the most joy, even if its silly to say. both will wood and gerard way mean a lot to me and putting them in situations together makes me happy. i am but a child full of fun whimsy

i wont be posting any more explicitly romantic art to avoid more drama, and i also wont be responding to all the anon messages i received because there are like .. too many of them. an overwhelming amount i'd say. sorry about that

i really didnt mean to cause such a fuss, and i understand why some people might be uncomfortable with what i do

i fully understand why you would dislike my waywood hyperfixation shenanigans, and i dont have a problem w you over that, but treating me like pure evil because of a thing so insignificant is just.. overdoing it

once again, i will be toning it down, but it really isnt the end of the world if i dare to draw will wood and gerard way being a tad bit gay (which is, i apparently need to mention, not me actually saying that will wood the alternative musician is a homosexual gay who is in a genuine for real actual real gay homosexual relationship with gerard fucking way the lead singer of my chemical romance. i think speculating on other people's sexuality and gender identity is boooo tomato tomato tomato)

sorry for the rant and sorry to all who were disappointed by my lack of remorse. come back in a couple years when i turn 18 and stop having fun and artistic freedom

thank you for your attention and i hope i at least cleared some things up to those who werent w me throughout every event where i get involved in fandom drama

bye bye

[kylominis]

"I'd be careful around Ominis Gaunt, If I were you. I can't tell where his loyalties lie." [♡]

[letzgetsilly]

Terrible Steven Universe comic I made at 3am based on something that happened in The Sims

[nguyenfinity]

Me when I’m not being silly and draw the stuff I’ve been meaning to draw instead of idol boys as per usual

[flamboyant-king]

We saw the beginning, now I be thinking about all the possible...uhh the word is like aftermath...epilogues? Seeing as the narrative will be left open ended, we can hypothesize and fantasize just about anything!

This one is Harvey carrying on with what he idealized as a normal life, getting married, having kids, going out with the boys, stuff you see on TV. But Cammy is still there, still a part of his life. And that's pretty neat. And also I cry.

[alllgator-blood]

I call this one "found family but it goes horribly wrong in an irreparable way" :)

I've been doing a lot of cotl comics but I kinda lost my comic making endurance after not working on art since last september, so I made this to help me flex my art muscles. Apologies for the watermarks lmao they kinda kill the mood but I've already had people repost my art when I put it on reddit so...might as well get the credit if my stuff is gonna be reposted regardless. RAMBLE INCOMING!!

Thinking about how shamura was most likely the one to find + raise their adopted siblings and help them survive the mass deicide that happened thousands of years before....OUUGH. I have so many ideas for comics that take place when half the bishops were still lil kids. I have one in progress right now actually. But it just hurts when I remember how it all ends- they loved their family for so long and yet they credit their love as what caused it to fall apart!!! The lore of the bishops only sunk in when I was dealing with my own heavy sibling angst, and I was like wow....shamura supported the sibs so much they accidentally encouraged their brother into being a heretic, and couldn't close pandora's box in time to save him or the rest of the family. They blame themself for the past 1,000 years and seem to be totally okay with dying for what they did?? Like when they get sent to the shadow realm they tell you to "finish the job" instead of leaving them in purgatory. And despite being the bishop of war, they are the only bishop to not have a "desperate" phase where their attacks get more brutal. They're not desperate, they just want to get it over with. All their other siblings are dead by then anyway so it's not like they have anything to stick around for, even if they were healthy enough to win the battle. Plus I mean...narinder is the bishop of death so they probably just want to see him one last time. Owch

Don't get me wrong I love to hate narinder and his only role in my cult is the guy who cleans the outhouse, but I really like his dynamic with shamura vs. the other siblings. I kinda see him as the troubled kid that couldn't assimilate into the family and shamura took it upon themself to try and fix him. It's interesting thinking about how they're the only one he shows remorse for despite feeling the most betrayed by them. I don't think he 100% hates them, he's just been locked in gay baby jail for so long he's had nothing better to think about than "my sibling encouraged me to experiment with my godly duties, and then punished me for it!!". He's not wrong? But also is shamura that wrong either??? Idk it's complicated with no real answer and I like it a lot, I wish the game told us more about what the bishops were like before they got their shit rocked during the schism. I would've loved to see shamura before their brain was turned to mush by their tbi + 1,000 years of suffocating grief and crushing guilt :)

ANYWAY thanks for making it to the bottom of this rant, here is a sketch I did a while ago of shamura + baby leshy from a prequel au thing I don't have a name for yet:

[littlemsshoney]

Hannibal falling in love

It is ridiculous how wrapped around your little finger he was.

From the first moment he laid eyes on you he found his new fixation. Every time you were in the same room with him his gaze was fixed on you, observing silently every detail, getting to know you before you were even introduced.

Of course he would be very careful, almost suspicious of any new person being added to his social circle. For a man obsessed with his social image he had to be cautious of any potential competitor and you were just lovely. So charming, well educated, funny, and polite.

He found you unusually enchanting. Of course he recognised your beauty but there was something less superficial about you that just pulled him in.

The feeling was known to him yet very rare as it never seemed to have a happy end. He knew he tended to be quite intense with his emotions and that never ended well so he promised himself it wouldn’t be that way with you.

It wasn’t long till you happened to be invited to the same dinner parties through common friends. How could he not observe you when you were sitting opposite of him only a few centimetre out of his reach? Every time you happened to talk he found the perfect opportunity to study you, the way you spoke, the way you smiled, the faces you made when you found something funny, stupid or ridiculous. You tried to be discreet not to offend anyone but he noticed, he noticed and he loved every expression your precious face made.

If you happened to sit next to him he would already know what perfume you wore, what scented shampoo you used everything. (And he wouldn’t mind doing some personal research about you beforehand)

With every joke of yours he found himself truly laughing and when you spoke his inner monologue quietened and he didn’t have to pretend to be listening because he actually did.

For a man like him who spent most part of his life stuck inside his head, building fortresses against the cruelty of people you quickly broke down everything while having him feeling so comfortable and at ease with you. You had him hooked.

Of course he noticed the way other people looked at you. Women and men with their envy and lust and he wouldn't be jealous if he only knew you were his.

During his sessions he found himself unable to focus on anything, his mind just replaying every conversation you two had over and over like a broken radio. Almost every night he was awake at the most unholy hours, his mind unable to rest and stop thinking about you. That was when he knew it was inevitable.

His insomnia and love for you he treated with writing love letters and sonnets, making sketches and drawings of you as he imagined you, all of them hidden and locked in the drawer of his office and his heart too.

Now not only were you dominating his every through but his whole life too.

He would take notes into his head of your interests and would say all the perfect things to keep you interested. What were your hobbies? Art, literature, music he would become an expert for you. He knew everything from Taylor Swift's latest album to the full analysis of your favourite poem. He would do and learn about anything you liked and was passionate about, just to keep you talking to him with that sparkle in your eyes. He could do it for hours, days and every minute for the next of his life.

I hope you don’t share your affections with anyone special because if he found out which he would, they would be the next missing person in town or worse.

When you became used to him and you got to know each other better he found his chance to invite you to one of his special dinners. Only that one would be even more special as you would be the only guest hence having his sole interest. He had one whole evening to amaze you with his culinary skills, deep, meaningful conversations about art, philosophy and life. At the end of the night he had you feeling it too.

And when the time came and you became his you and the whole world would see just how smitten he is.

He laughed with every joke, he listened to you carefully and everytime your name was mentioned he couldn't help but smile. Any little things that caught your eyes you would have and if you asked for the moon itself he would find a way to give it to you.

He didn’t mind, he actually loved it. That was love for him. He wanted to be your loyal servant and your beloved and feared god all at once. Could you give him this and he would give you the world.

If you didn’t however return his affections or god forbid you betray him that would be a very different and tragic(for you) story.

[storiesoflilies]

in your peach blush dreams

synopsis : in which sukuna unexpectedly stumbles upon something – or rather, someone – he almost never believed could exist. w.c: 2.7k.

pairing : soulmate!florist!sukuna x f!reader

warnings : FLUFF! non curse au. adorably grumpy sukuna who only pretends he doesn’t believe in love or soulmates.

a/n : based on this request. hope you enjoy nonie!! @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @gothsuguru @bungalowbear @hiraethwrote , i hope you love your cameos <3

divider / ao3

ryomen sukuna was a skeptic.

point. cut. blank.

anybody who knew him knew it well.

he didn’t believe in ghosts, poltergeists, or any of the things that cry and go bump in the night. there was always a logical explanation for everything and anything that happened outside the realm of normalcy. the world was ruled by physics and chemistry and numbers, and even though he was a florist, sukuna understood and wholeheartedly accepted the beauty of science.

however, there was one teeny, tiny thing that completely – and rather rudely – disregarded all of his beliefs.

and it was only a little dream.

one that he had been having since he was old enough to remember things.

sukuna couldn’t remember if there were before this particular one started, or even if any occurred after it. but he always remembered how he knew it was coming – the way his stomach would churn and lurch, like he was being catapulted from a cannon, free-falling through a black expanse of space and time and stars.

and then, sukuna would land face-first into a field of marshmallow-soft petals, bathed in the light of a pink sunrise.

at first, he didn’t know what sort of flowers had cushioned his fall. it took him quite a number years to even attempt sketching them, using a cheap set of coloring pencils he’d bought with his pocket money. and even, not a single person he showed his scratchings to had any clue at all.

it frustrated him to no end.

sukuna would always end up crumpling his drawings in his little fists and hurling them straight into the bin.

and try again.

and again.

it wasn’t until he was sixteen that he finally found the answer he had been looking for.

sukuna had just gotten a job working part-time at a flower shop after school. at first, the thought of being there was beyond humiliating. his twin brother had relentlessly teased him about it when he found out, which quickly resulted in a flurry of knuckles and fists.

he arrived to his first shift with a sour look and a black eye.

io, the shop owner at the time, gave him a humorous look with soft, chocolate eyes and taught him how to speak the language that only flowers knew. how to listen to the soft poetry held within the curl of their leaves and petals, telling you everything they needed to bloom.

in time, sukuna learned to enjoy it.

but he would never admit it to anyone.

one day, the shop received a rather large delivery of frighteningly familiar baby pink flowers. sukuna froze, his hands slippery and wet from the water droplets falling from the stems.

“what are those?” he’d gritted out, disbelief coated on his cracked lips.

io took one glance at the flowers in his grip, and answered, “oh, they’re zinnia flowers.”

zinnia flowers.

he whispered under his breath, testing how the letters rolled over and under his tongue.

after all this time, the answer to the mystery flower was finally in his palm, and sukuna couldn’t decide whether or not he felt relieved or disturbed about it.

all he could muster in response was, “right.”

io stared at him, and a young sukuna felt himself shrink a little under her gaze, his cheeks blossoming a brilliant red shade like the david austin roses beside him. he pretended to ignore her, distracting himself by placing bunches of flowers into water buckets and slowly, meticulously, arranging every single stem beautifully in the display window.

sukuna hated every second of it.

he felt like every single pink petal on those flowers were mocking him, laughing at him for being so wound up over them.

it was so unbelievably pathetic.

he’d never felt more like a loser in his whole life.

because despite all his beliefs about the supernatural and a higher power, he couldn’t hate those flowers even if he tried to, not really.

because they were hers.

the other person already sitting there in his dreams in an endless field of zinnia blooms.

she wouldn’t notice him straight away, even though sukuna crash-landed in a heap just beside her leg. she was too busy staring up at the clouds painted in strokes and swirls of blushing pink, with the sun bleeding in tones of vibrant peach. all he could notice was how her lips were parted in wonder as she took everything in around her with a wondrous energy.

it was only when he pushed himself up to sit beside her that she finally noticed him.

and laughed.

and it was the most beautiful thing sukuna had ever heard in his life.

it was joyously infectious, and he couldn’t help his own laughter from bubbling up from deep within his chest like a volcano. they laughed together for what seemed like hours, the limits of time stretching on forever in the land of dreams, and sukuna felt the angry fire in his soul simmer just a little.

and he would become sad.

because he knew this was when the dream would always end.

he’d open his bloodstained eyes to the dreadfully familiar, dull white ceiling that belonged to his bedroom, and sukuna would know he was back at square one all over again.

feeling alone.

so unbearably alone.

because the dream would still linger in those precious few minutes after he woke up, a ghost hovering over a gray sea. sukuna could feel the other half of his soul slipping away to wherever she belonged to in this vast world, and he would selfishly claw for her, begging and screaming in his mind.

don’t go! don’t go! don’t go!

sukuna wasn’t stupid; he knew she couldn’t stay, but that didn’t stop a bitter taste from spreading over his tongue like a drop of lemon juice.

it twisted him inside, and he hated the universe for making him yearn so deeply for someone he had never even met.

and might never.

it didn’t take long for io to catch on. she was always acutely aware of people, and to be known by her was to always be seen and understood.

“they scare you, don’t they?” io murmured to him gently, too gently for sukuna’s liking. “the zinnias.”

he snorted dismissively, cutting perfect forty-five degree angles into the stems of snow peonies. “i am not afraid of a fucking flower, io.”

she arched a brow, unimpressed. “no?”

“no.”

“are you sure?”

sukuna huffed and rolled his eyes, adding tufts of baby’s breath to the bouquet he was assembling. io leaned over the birch countertop, her wrists adorned with various pink ribbons and a playful twinkle in her eyes.

“i know what it is,” she said in a sing-song voice, drumming her nails against the wood.

he ignored her again, a blooming pink starting to grace the tips of his ears, and busied himself wrapping a brown piece of paper around his finished piece.

“what?”

she didn’t answer, cryptically singing about knowing things and of a man she would know one day come to know, with hair as white as the peonies in sukuna’s bouquet and eyes brighter than bluebells. it was only five years to the day, when io married that very man she had been singing about, that he realized she had known all along what had been on his mind.

and now, at the tender age of twenty-one, ryomen sukuna wondered when it would be his turn to love.

and be loved in return.

❀᭢᜴꤬

when she was a child, she used to love drawing.

and the thing she loved to draw most was him.

the boy she saw in her dreams. they weren’t very good drawings – just two stick figures holding each other’s circles for hands, one with bright fuchsia hair because that was the closest color she had in her pencil kit. they would be standing in a field of flowers too, though the blooms were just colorful blobs scattered around their stick feet.

“not it!” she’d exclaim, pouting pitifully. “not what he looks like!”

her two best friends, kairo and ari, shuffled through their pencil cases, offering her shade after shade of pink pencils, but she shook her head at them each time. after a while, she would start to wail, despair clutching her little heart in its claws. her friends would put their arms around her, offering her all the trinkets and sweets they had in their pockets, just to see her smile again.

but they couldn’t understand how she really felt, how lonely she was sometimes, because they had already completed their souls.

ari had their kenjaku – their kenny.

and kairo had her suguru.

they had found their souls at such a young age and would never know just how much of the rest of the world felt for most, if not all, of their lives. they always had someone to watch over them. even now, the two twin boys were staring at them, gauging whether they would also burst into tears alongside her, ready to step in and make them smile again.

that was all she wanted, really.

for the pink-haired boy in her dreams to make her smile when she needed it.

as she grew that little bit older, her dream became more vivid. she could remember more details – how the sky was aflame in peach and coral, the sweet smell of the flowers beneath her, and how her boy would land next to her. she could even feel how much it was him that needed to smile.

so she laughed.

and laughed and laughed until he did too.

she wished she could stay there in that dream with him and make him laugh forever.

but she couldn’t do that.

in his sadness, there was strength too – something unyielding, strong enough to bring mountains to their knees. it told her to stay strong, to be like him, to keep her chin up and tell the world that she would live.

so she did.

she went on with her life, making sure to laugh often and well.

she grew up witnessing and being surrounded by love. high school and university presented their own challenges, filled with late-night cramming sessions and caffeine-induced hazes. she watched more and more of the friends find their souls, pairing off in effortless harmony while she lingered on in the stardust of their love.

but she still continued to live.

still kept an eye out for a particular head of pink hair wherever she went.

and now that she was done school, entering the big, bad world of work, her heart longed all the more for the boy from her dreams – who no longer looked like a boy at all.

he was a beautiful man now.

with dark tattoos etched into skin, mysterious lines and circles that perhaps told the story of his life. she wanted to know all about them, if they even meant anything to him at all, and if they were a angry shield to protect himself from people getting too close.

she hoped it wasn’t.

she didn’t want to be one of those left locked out.

“you’ll find him,” jess said encouragingly to her one day, as she was lost in a daydream of pink flower fields.

jess always knew when she was there.

she hummed softly, chewing on the plain cheese sandwhich she’d brought for her lunch break.

“so,” jess began, in an effort to distract her. “any nice plans for your time off?”

“uh, yeah actually. my best friend is getting married, so i’ll be helping her out this week to get everything ready.”

“oh, that sounds really nice!”

then, nanami kento walked into the staff room, his tired eyes brightening at the sight of jess sitting there, happily munching on the lunch he had no doubt prepared for her that morning. her friend sighed wistfully, a fond smile on her face as the blonde man took a seat beside her.

suddenly, there were two and a half souls in the room.

and she couldn’t help but smile, hoping that her time was coming.

it had to be.

❀᭢᜴꤬

“hea, do we have any lilies in the back? i need them.”

sukuna took another quick glance at the behemoth of a man in front of him, who shifted from one foot to the other, his green eyes darting all around the shop.

“urgently.”

“just a sec!”

the shop was silent for a moment, with only the sound of the fan blowing and the soft snip, snip, snip of sukuna trimming zinnia stems. he looked up again at customer, raising an eyebrow at how nervous the poor man looked while waiting.

“we have these white roses here,” sukuna suggested, pointing with his scissors at a small bunch. “in case we don’t have any white lilies.”

the man shook his head. “no, no. they have to be lilies. her name is lily.”

sukuna might have once laughed, but it was the way the man said her name with a hushed sort of reverence – and the tip of a velvet box peeping out from his trousers – that he understood who she really was to him.

so sukuna didn’t laugh.

“it’s really important,” he added, dark locks sticking to his forehead, as if that alone would convince the grumpy florist.

sukuna sighed, setting down his scissors and wiping his hands on his shirt. “i’ll see what i can do for you.”

so he went to the back himself, assembling a bouquet of white lilies, adding white pampas grass for flair and eucalyptus for softness. sukuna spent quite a bit of time on it – more than he probably should have – fluffing and adjusting every petal and leaf until it was absolutely perfect.

it was worth the effort.

the man’s palpable relief was infectious, making the corner of sukuna’s lips twitch upwards.

“keep your money,” he grunted, his nose slightly turned up. “just come back here to get what you need for the wedding.”

the bell at the front door tinkled in farewell as the man left, and sukuna picked up where he left off. there was a bridal party order for tomorrow, and of course, he was in charge of creating the bride’s bouquet.

sukuna always was.

“hea!” he called out. “if you need a hand with the bridesmaids’ bouquets let me know. i’m almost done here.”

the doorbell tinkled.

but he wasn’t looking up.

“i’m good!” hea answered back, her voice faint.

sukuna clicked his tongue disapprovingly, not liking the shade of ribbon he was holding against the peach-colored zinnia in the bouquet. he dipped down behind the counter, arms stretched above him and fingers drumming on the wood as he scanned through the mess of ribbons and other decorations tucked away in small cubicles.

hmph! nothing.

sukuna pushed himself back up.

and there she was.

staring at all the shades of pretty pink zinnias that sukuna had painstakingly displayed the day before.

his heart actually stuttered.

and before he knew it, he had somehow slipped and landed face down on the ground.

“fuck!”

“oh!”

sukuna pushed himself back up, stumbling like a newborn foal, his eyes completely and utterly fixed on her while a poor zinnia lay crushed beneath his foot.

but that didn’t matter in the slightest.

because holy good god, she was looking at him too.

with her pretty lips parted in shock, and her pretty eyes wide and glossy, and her pretty hair looking exactly like it did in his – no, their – dream.

she’s here. she’s here. she’s here.

“i’m here for the bridal flowers for kairo!” she blurted out suddenly.

sukuna inhaled sharply.

what a pretty voice.

“t-that’s– ahem – not due until tomorrow,” he whispered, almost inaudibly.

her eyes widened a fraction more, if that was even possible. then, her features completely relaxed as she tipped her head back and laughed.

and laughed.

sukuna felt like he was back in his dream again.

only it was real this time – more real than anything.

he chuckled lowly, his laughter rising like helium, melding with hers in a gloriously wonderful crescendo.

and all sukuna could think of was.

finally.

i love you, i love you, i love you.

❀᭢᜴꤬

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[emo-batboy]

Battinson on SNL

Idk how popular Saturday Night Live is outside of the US so there will be some links for context. That said, as a New Jersey native, I think Battinson would totally watch the show. And since he's a celebrity...👀

SO

To promote WE’s newest charity fund, Alfred signs Bruce up to be a guest host on SNL (à la this post) The announcement is made, and everyone’s like “oh this is going to be a disaster. That man can’t even hold eye contact or speak a full sentence without crying.”

But oh, that’s why it’s so funny.

Now, hear me out. Bruce’s strengths are displayed best when he’s himself. That’s why he’s so popular in Gotham. That’s why the internet calls him Relatable TM and a Disaster (Affectionate) and “Poor Little Meow Meow.” It’s his ✨ essence ✨

But he tends to get overwhelmed or self-conscious onstage, right? Because he can’t be Himself himself if he has time to overthink something. So after a few meetings with Bruce, the writers of SNL figure out the perfect way to keep Bruce from getting anxious.

They decide to load this episode with as many skits where Bruce plays different caricature-like versions of himself as possible. The objective? Make him break character and laugh so he doesn’t overthink. And if he breaks character, he’ll still technically be in character because he’s playing himself, you know? Genius.

So that’s how they go about structuring the show. During the few days they have to write, they decide to take everything about Bruce’s public image and either ramp it up to 11 or turn it on its head.

He speaks quietly? Turn it into a running gag. He dresses in all black? Make him emo. He tips well? Add that in too. He’s “depressed” and “sad?” Literally, all he does on screen is laugh and break character. What’s not to love?

Of course, Bruce also gets to decide what skits are in each episode as well. (Refer to this if you have no idea how SNL works.) He loves the idea, though, and he has a surprisingly dark sense of humor which bleeds into some of the sketches. They add in a few skits without him, and they’ve got their lineup.

It’s the wildest episode of the season. Here are the highlights:

OPENING MONOLOGUE

It’s the big night, everyone’s excited to see Bruce Wayne hosting a live sketch comedy show with no idea how it will turn out.

To begin his monologue, Bruce walks on, opens his mouth to start talking, and immediately two cast members appear as stagehands to set up six microphones in front of him. He is already struggling to keep himself together.

Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m host- Cast Member: *adds one more tiny microphone to his chest* Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m hosting tonight.”

It’s working. The audience loves it.

Halfway through, Kate McKinnon comes out in a dark cloak with a chalice. “Your sustenance, my lord.” *sees camera* “Oh. Sorry. Carry on.” And she shambles off. Bruce has to take a second before continuing.

Bruce knows when (most of) the jokes come. It’s literally on the cue cards, but he still falls into a fit of giggles.

There are a few more gags, including Lex Luthor peeking out from behind the band set-up, all teasing the show to come.

Overall, an amazing way to set the tone for the episode. Expectations have been set. Then the skits begin!

(Oh but before I forget: During every single live skit with Bruce, the writers have scheduled for one of the cast members to run in dressed as a stagehand and put an extra mic on him. They do not tell him when it will happen.)

SKIT #1

Between the monologue and the first skit, he has to do a really fast quick change, but to everyone’s surprise, Bruce is a natural. (Huh, wonder why.)

The skit is called Gotham PTA Meeting. We open in a meeting room full of stereotypical PTA moms setting down baked goods and gossiping. And apparently, there is a new PTA member attending today 👀

Right as the meeting starts, he enters. Bruce walks in wearing the most emo get-up imaginable. He’s got a Nirvana shirt, a comical amount of eyeliner, black skinny jeans, chain accessories, metal rings, AND a clip-in extension to give him fringe.

Someone immediately runs in and puts another mic on him.

PTA Mom: “Oh, Bruce! You made it! Did you bring a snack?” Bruce: “I brought lemon bars.” PTA Mom: “Why are they black?” Bruce: “They match my soul…they’re also vegan.”

He talks like a moody teenager. HE CONSTANTLY has to brush the fringe off to the side to read the cue cards. And because there’s so much eyeliner and he’s sweating a bit from the lights, it starts running everywhere.

PTA Mom: “Bruce, you’re a little quiet. What are your thoughts on increasing the school lunch budget?” Bruce: *eyeliner dripping down his chin* “I think it’s a great idea.”

SKIT #2

For a pre-filmed skit, they bring back the Chad character with Pete Davidson.

It’s 2 am, and Chad is working at a 24hr drug store in Gotham. He’s reading Twilight (the book is upside down) when the lights begin to flicker.

He turns around and tries the light switch, turns back around, and JUMPSCARE it’s Bruce dressed as Edward from Twilight.

Yes, he IS sparkly.

Bruce is awkwardly holding a bunch of items, all concerning. He plops down a few knives, several raw meats, Sudafed. Chad: “Oh hey.” Bruce: O_O “I’d like to check out please.” Chad: “Lit.”

Chad’s “No Fucks Given” energy and Bruce’s “Please Do Not Perceive Me” energy clash like titans. The whole skit centers around it.

Bruce: *sweating bullets* “Oh. You’re reading Twilight?” Chad: “Just the title.” Bruce: *throws the book through the window at lightning speed* “It’s not very good. You should probably read something else.” Chad: *shrugs* “Okay.”

Chad: “ID?” Bruce: “ID? For what?” Chad: “Sudafed.” Bruce: “Oh. I don’t really need that, actually.” Chad: “Already scanned it.” Bruce: “Haha. Of course.” *awkwardly produces a scroll from his pocket that says Bruce Wayne DOB: 1901* Chad: “Okay.”

Bruce checks out, Chad picks up a porno mag or something, and we see Bruce turn into a bat and fly off through the window behind him.

SKIT #3

The next skit they have is Celebrity Family Feud: Billionaires Edition. Again, Bruce plays himself, but he’s more of a background character. Instead, the skit makes fun of billionaires as a whole.

Bruce’s team consists of Kylie Jenner, Lex Luthor, and Oliver Queen. So just imagine three Lucille Bluths standing beside one another. 

Bruce’s bit? He just keeps handing cash to Steve Harvey every time he breathes in his direction.

Host: "We got the richest man in the world: Bruce Wayne!" Bruce: *hands him a roll of cash* Host: "Oh, what’s this for?" Bruce: "It’s your tip. I always tip." Host: "Oh, Mr. Wayne, you don’t usually tip the show host. I’m also a millionaire myself." Lex Luthor: *snatches it* "Well, if you’re not going to use it, I will…for charity, of course." Host: "Uh huh, whatever helps you sleep at night."

Just a ton of fun quips, the usual.

At some point, Harvey says, “That’s batty.” Bruce: *ducks* “Where?!” Host: “Oh, I don’t mean Batman. He’s not here.” Bruce: “You don’t know that.”

This time, the mic bit is a bit different.

Host: “We asked 100 billionaires: How much does a loaf of bread cost? Top three answers are on the board.” Bruce: *hits buzzer* Host: Bruce, your answer is? Cast Member: *runs in with a megaphone and holds it in front of Bruce* Bruce: “TEN DOLLARS?”

Board dings! That was the #1 answer

Brucie Wayne for the win

SKIT #4

Next is a skit that dares to ask Gotham, “Why would anyone live here?”

The skit begins with someone opening a press conference for Wayne Enterprises. “And now presenting: Bruce Wayne!” Bruce walks in…

But it’s not him. Instead, it’s one of the cast members dressed in a black suit with horribly gelled brown hair.

Everyone in the audience is wondering where the actual Bruce is before another cast member runs onstage crying, “Help! Help! I’ve just been robbed! Somebody call Batman!”

A mini version of the bat-signal lights up…

We hear some generic hero music play…

And there he is: Bruce Wayne dressed in a horribly cheap Batman costume

(They got the cowl ALL wrong btw)

Bruce puts his hands on his hips in a weird superhero pose. Bruce: “I’m Batm-” Cast Member: *runs out to attach another mic to his costume* Bruce: “….I’m Batman!”

Cue all of the gags and digs against Batman. The fake Bruce faints then starts crying under a table. Someone calls Batman a furry. Bruce is barely keeping it together the whole time. Lord help him, but he asked for it. He approved the skit.

Bruce: “Looks like a job for my bat taser!” Cast Member: “Isn’t that just a taser with a bat on it?” Bruce: *whispers* “You shut your mouth.”

He saves the day, the police take the thief into custody, then Batman myStErioUsly disappears. Bruce: “Look over there!” *runs off* Cast Member: “Oh my gooood, how did he do that?”

CLOSING SEGMENT

Finally, they have the Weekend Update where Bruce comes on as himself for the final time.

Since they got his permission, the writers switch out some of Bruce’s jokes last minute. (Think Bill Hader’s Stefon which notoriously caused him to break character because the writers would mess with his cue cards.)

News Anchor: “Here to promote his newest humanitarian project: Bruce Wayne!” “Mr. Wayne, what a pleasure to see you today.” Bruce: “Thank you. This is probably the longest I’ve been out of the house.” News Anchor: “Since the Riddler catastrophe?” Bruce: “Since ever.”

News Anchor: “So Mr. Wayne! Before you make your announcement, any life updates?” Bruce: “Yes, actually. Just a few days ago, I adopted five- *starts losing it* five more children.” News Anchor: “Wow, really? So you have eight kids now.” Bruce: “Uh huh. *tears streaming down his face* One more orphan and I get the tenth one free.”

News Anchor: “So where can people find you online?” Bruce: “Well, I don’t have social media because I’m afraid of people, but sometimes I’m on Twitter.” News Anchor: “What about a phone call?” Bruce: “Oh no, phone calls- *giggle* phone calls give me fainting spells.”

It’s a great way of finishing the show, with the most genuine version of Bruce. Then, he gets to what’s really important!

News Anchor: “So if they can’t reach you on social media or on the phone, what else can our viewers do, Mr. Wayne?” Bruce: “They can donate to the Wayne Foundation’s newest charity called The Arts Initiative. It funds programs for the arts in underdeveloped school districts nationwide. I’ve already donated $30 million, and I’ve pledged to match every dollar donated within the next week.”

And that’s what he’s here for :) They share a link for where and how to donate. The anchors praise him for his charity, which he deflects because he can definitely afford this, and the 90-minute broadcast is over.

The camera pans away with the whole cast waving goodbye, and Bruce is seen keeling over with laughter.

Along with some of the other skits, these four specifically go viral. WE raises a fuck ton of money, and everyone loves Bruce.

THE END

LOVE YOU ALL!! Let me know what you think :D

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey hi so I just have this flash of an idea: Reader saving Ford / Stan out of a danger they’re facing. Like I’m talking reader carrying them bridal style and gently putting them down and being all “Are you alright, my love?” Hehehehhehehehe blushy boys

Stanley was a punch first, ask questions at a later date type of guy, he was use to being the protector of the family no matter if the guy he was up against was bigger. He always came out on top in the end.

So when he found himself being lifted into your arms and you brought him out of the line of danger and looked at him with a face full of concern before asking; ‘are you alright my love?’ He knew he watched too much of that sappy romance drama Mabel got him into as he felt his cheeks burn hotter then ever.

‘I’m fine now toots thanks to you.’ He replies, trying to keep his cool when his heart was hammering in his chest and all he could think about was how attractive you were in his eyes, then again you were always attractive in his eyes but there was something about being saved by you that made him conflicted.

On one hand, Stan was the man in the relationship, he’s meant to keep you safe from all harm -paranormal or otherwise- and if he didn’t do that, then he wasn’t a man. But he also felt relieved that he didn’t have to always look out for himself anymore when he’s with you, knowing you had his back as much as he had yours no matter what. It was reassuring knowing that he could fall back on someone and know that they’ll catch him when he falls.

So while he still might think that he should still be the one protecting you and all, Stanley doesn’t mind it one bit when you’re looking at him with such caring eyes, hands holding his face as though he was the most precious thing in your life. (he was, he very much was)

‘I’m glad.’ You said with a smile, ‘now let’s stay as far away from here as we can from now on.’ You added as you grabbed his hand to walk back to the mystery shack.

‘I dunno doll face, I might just get myself into a bit of trouble more often if it means having you come save me.’ Stanley teased with a wink.

‘Don’t push it. I might not always be there to save you.’ You said playfully as you nudged him with your elbow to his side.

Ford’s face was as red as cherry tomatoes the second he recognised he was in your arms, carried away from the skeletal deer anomaly that had seemingly lost all interest in both of you, but yet his face somehow got even more redder when you put him down on a nearby fallen tree stump to hold his face in your hands as you said:

‘Are you alright my love?’

He’s suddenly finding the fungi growing on the side of the tree trunk more interesting than meeting your eyes as the words caught in his throat. Ford always though it’s be him carrying you away from danger, keeping you safe and making sure that you weren’t hurt in any way, he could handle them thanks to the survival skills he built up whilst in the multiverse; and yet here he was feeling as though he was developing his first crush on you all over again.

‘I’m fine dear, apologise for being caught off guard.’ He tells you as he couldn’t help but be ashamed that he allowed himself to get lost in the excitement of seeing a new anomaly. You literally him while he was still mid sketching the cryptid!

‘It’s okay Ford, I know how you get with new anomalies but I often wish you didn’t almost risk certain death just to finish sketching them.’ You said softly as you gingerly brushed your thumb against a thin cut he had gotten on his cheek from the skeletal deer anomaly, you knew this man has survived worse but you couldn’t help but worry every time he got hurt somehow. After all it was better to admire something form far rather then within it’s territory, and the anomaly happened to be hostile and territorial.

Ford sighed as he lent into your touch, still getting use to your tendency for physical contact after going so long without it, closing his eyes as he took this moment to cherish your unconditional love and affection for him. After all his dad only started giving a shit about him the moment he figured he could gain money from exploiting his own son’s intelligence. ‘Apologise once again my dear-‘ you cut him off by pressing a kiss to his forehead, thumbs caressing his face as though he were made of porcelain.

‘It’s okay my love, I just worry about your safety and want you to do what you love safely.’ You tell him as you pull away from him before offering him your hand with a smile. ‘Now let’s go find an anomaly that won’t hunt us down for sport.’ You add as Ford grabbed your hand and smiled.

‘I’m sure I spotted some mushroom people not too far from here having a dispute with some gnomes not too far from here, shall we take a look?’ He asks you and you gestured to the vastness of the forest in front of you both with your free hand. ‘By all means lead the way mr Pines.’ You replied softly as you both searched high and low for disputing mushroom people and gnomes.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Him or Me?

LADS Men getting jealous over your latest hyper fixation. [Requested by: Anon]

Zayne

Who: Keigo Takami (Hawks) - My Hero Academia & Sanemi Shinazugawa - Demon Slayer

Zayne: You received another package today?

MC: Ahh my figurines!

You tear the box open in excitement while Zayne watches.

Zayne: You have quite a few figures of that red winged character

MC: He's my favorite

Zayne: He's your ... favorite?

MC: My favorite character from my hero academia yes

Zayne: and who is the bug eye'd one?

MC: Don't call him bug eyed

Zayne: Defending him now?

MC: His name is Sanemi he has a bit of a temper but he's really a sweetheart

Zayne: and he's also from your hero show?

MC: No he's from demon slayer

Zayne: Oh

MC: These two are definitely my top 5

Zayne: So there's a list

MC: A mental list

Zayne: Who is on this mental list

MC: Well number one is my red ear'd jealous boyfriend who's trying to hide the fact that he's jealous of these 2D characters

Zayne: I'm not jealous

You stand grabbing your figurines boxes as you move around him heading towards your room to build them.

MC: Sure *Kisses his cheek* jealousy is cute on you but don't worry no one can take me from you

Rafayel

Who: Trafalgar D. Law - One Piece & Itsuomi - A Sign of Affection

MC: Raf have you seen my sketch book?

Rafayel: *Avoiding eye contact* Nope

MC: Did you do something with it?

Rafayel: Nope

MC: Found it. Why was it under the couch?

Rafayel: You're a silly girl with a bad memory

MC: RAF!

Rafayel: What!?

MC: I'm missing like four pages in here!

Rafayel: Have you tried not missing them?

MC: Very funny ... coincidentally its only the sketches of Law & Itsuomi

Rafayel: Why do you need to draw that taffy guy and umami dude? Draw meeeee I'm your boyfriend

MC: I've already drawn you before

Rafayel: I only had one page in your book they each had two that's not fair *pouts*

MC: You're such a baby if I give you a second page can you stop ripping up my hardwork?

Rafayel: Make it four pages and you have a deal

Xavier

Who: Kento Nanami - Jujutsu Kaisen & Vash - Trigun

MC: Xav?

Xavier: yes my love

MC: Would you like to explain what happened to my Nanami plushie?

Xavier: I don't know what you're talking about

MC: He has mysteriously gone missing

Xavier: Are you sure you searched everywhere? You did work sixteen hours yesterday It's common to misplace items when you're tired

MC: I don't know I never move him from the shelf .... have you seen him?

Xavier: I haven't sorry

MC: Interesting ... my phone case with Vash is also missing

Xavier: You seem quite smitten with those two lately do you like them more than me?

MC: Xavier they're 2D animations they'll never be better than you

Xavier: Promise?

MC: I put it on my pinky

Xavier: 🥰

MC: Can I have my phone case and plushie now?

Xavier: Absolutely not

Sylus

Who: Sung Jinwoo - Solo Leveling & Shinichiro Sano - Tokyo Revengers

Sylus: What's so great about that show that you need to go to four different stores to get the entire book collection?

MC: I tried to get you to watch Solo Leveling with me

Sylus: I'm a busy man princess

MC: I think you'd really like it Jinwoo looks like a cinnamon roll and is a cinnamon roll but could still kill you

Sylus: Are you implying that me and this 2D man are similar?

MC: Hell no you look like you can kill and could kill ... you're only a cinnamon roll for me

Sylus: How perceptive ... and what book is that

MC: It's a manga get it right ... its Tokyo Revengers I'm still waiting on the next season but I need to know what happens because I need to see Shinichiro

Sylus: Who is Shin and why do you need to see him eat a cheerio?

MC: Not Shin eat a cheerio ... Shinichiro Sano aka the weak king

Sylus: How can you be a king and be weak?

MC: Those around you are strong

Sylus: Sounds like a kingdom waiting to fall ... are you almost done?

MC: What's with the curt tone?

Sylus: No reason we just have dinner reservations soon princess

MC: That's in five hours

Sylus: *Grabs the stack of books from MCs hands* My how time flies lets go

[enhaven]

all night | pjs (m.)

pairing ⇢ jay x reader

genre/au ⇢ fluff, smut, established relationship

wc & rating ⇢ 2k+ | 18+ (minors gtfo)

summary ⇢ all Jongseong wanted was to put you to sleep but you're more than awake to play along with his melodies.

warnings ⇢ cursing • unprotected sex • riding • handjob • fellatio • pet names • praise kink kinda? • aftercare

song ⇢ i love you 3000 - stephanie poetri

a/n: happy national boyfriend day to my main man! i didn't realize that i had an est. rel wip whipped last feb lmao. it's been sitting in my drafts for too long so might as well ^^

the dim lights and the strums of guitar strings are lulling you to sleep.

that's what Jay's been hoping to accomplish anyway after noticing you getting fussy as soon as you arrived earlier. it happens when you’re very tired so he'd love for you to sleep right away after dinner.

now you're plastered on your shared bed, brows scrunching as you try to make yourself comfortable. you look so adorable, just like when you complain about how bright it is every time the lights are on due to your sensitive eyes. 

it's a good thing Jay knows just what you need. he turns off some lights but leaves a lamp on so he can still see around the room. walking towards his closet, he grabs his guitar from the inside which you didn't notice. then he sits beside your lying form before placing the body of the guitar on his propped leg. 

smiling at your sleepy state, Jay starts tuning the guitar, some random melody already emerging in his mind to play for you. he made it a goal to himself to help you sleep after finding out that it didn't come to you easily.

.

the sound of your boyfriend plucking the strings was making you sleepy until you looked up at him. the sight made you gasp inwardly, the sleepiness leaving your mind as you watched Jay playing his guitar.

he's always been gorgeous but the silhouette of his face looks so defined from your line of vision. the few loose strands of his hair provided some extra flair with his shadow that you'd love to sketch sometime.

but seriously, how the fuck is he this beautiful even with the lights are low?

"baby can you sing for me?" you ask him softly which brings his attention to you. the request made Jay pause in playing, his face now slightly confused which is so cute.

"sing? but i thought you were sleepy that's why i'm playing"

and this is why you fell in love with him. not because of his physical attributes but of his thoughtfulness and how sweet he is. your heart swells that he's trying to help you sleep this way. you’ve been more than grateful that he became a part in your life.

"i wanna hear your voice" you sluggishly reply, burying yourself further in the comforter while your legs nuzzle the huge pillow between your thighs.

since Jay loves you so much, he accepts your request. he chooses to sing an acoustic version of a song that you often play in the background when cuddling him sometimes.

he thought this was it, that you'll finally fall asleep but you’ve started humming along instead, adding harmonies to the song which he didn't really mind since he loves hearing you sing.

"baby" he paused his singing but not playing so it served as an instrumental to your melodies.

"hmmm?" you feigned ignorance with your eyes closed as your hand started to caress his thigh, syncing it with his strumming.

"what are you tryna do?" he queries though he knows what you're doing. if that small quirk in your lips should tell Jay otherwise. your eyes are back on his face when he nudges you, a wolfish smile forming on your lips as your hand creeps closer to his upper inner thigh.

it's out of nowhere but your man's too fucking fine and you're getting horny just by watching him playing his guitar. you can't be blamed for that though, anyone would be if they were in your place.

"can i actually suck you off?" you asked, looking at him sheepishly with those puppy eyes that he couldn't possibly say no to. even without those, he'd say yes, wanting to give you whatever you want.

"come 'ere" he beckons you with one hand after placing his precious guitar by his side. it's at a safe distance thanks to your boyfriend's spacious bed so you have nothing to worry about but still. it's one of his collections, an expensive one so you don't want your clumsiness to damage it. but even if that were to happen, he wouldn't mind really. he can always get it repaired or buy a new one instead.

carefully crawling closer to Jay's lap, you place an arm on the mattress to support your upper body. he's surprisingly hard when you start palming his clothed length, squeezing it briefly which earned a small groan from him.

"oh you are so cute" you giggle, doing it again to watch his reaction.

"don't tease" he huffs, a small pout on his lips.

you might not be able to see his face clearly this far but you know he's struggling to contain his moans. he's fisting the bedsheet so you pull down the hem of his sweats at once, happy to hear the sigh of relief escaping his lips.

his rigid cock slaps against his clothed tummy and you're salivating to have it in your mouth. pumping his dick for a bit, you eventually lowered your head to wrap your lips around its tip. you're thinking of teasing him like you always do but not tonight, it's you who wants his cock in every way possible.

you feel one of Jay's hands on your head once you take him all in, petting your hair and it prompts you to swallow him deeper until his tip hits the back of your throat.

"fuck i love your mouth" his deep groans are sending shivers through you, moaning around his dick which drives Jay insane. he gathers your hair while you continue to suck him off, bucking his hips up when you hollow your cheeks. he didn't mean to but he can't help it, you're just too good at this.

reaching the back of your nape, he pulls you closer as your hand pumps the rest of him that you couldn't fit in your mouth. the warmth of your mouth is pushing him closer to his orgasm but you release his dick all of a sudden, causing a small whimper that he didn't plan on making.

“shhh” you smile teasingly at Jay and he curses, moaning louder when your tongue starts licking the undersides of his cock down to the base.

although it was you who initially started this, he's the one desperate to fuck you right now. he’s been wanting to cum but he tries to hold it back, preferring to do so inside you.

“can you fuck me baby?” he rasps, his hand patting down your head as he closes his eyes. you look too hot sucking him off that he might burst his nut on your face, not like he didn't before but he's craving for your pussy this time.

“m’kay” another giggle escapes you after hearing Jay's request. you did plan on fucking him and you were excited as soon as he let you suck him but you didn’t think he’d beg first tonight.

lifting yourself up from the bed, you took the rest of your clothes off. nothing much since you were just wearing a loose shirt and matching thin sweats along with your underwear.

“these fucking tits” you hear Jay mumble quietly as he reaches for your bare breasts. one thing he loves secretly is how you’re always braless once you’re home. it's easier for him to play with them with his hands or mouth.

a needy moan escapes you when he pinches your nipples before you scramble to straddle him. he proceeds to rid his shirt as well, pulling off his sweats completely so now you’re both completely naked.

looking at each other fondly and you really couldn't stop your intrusive thoughts from coming out.

“you’re so fine what the hell how did i get so lucky”

you say softly as you start grinding against his slick cock, cupping his face with both your hands and you can feel his skin warming up at your words. he averts his eyes from yours once he sees that pretty smile on your face.

"i'm lucky to have you too baby" he responds before his hands hoist you up, grabbing his cock to align it in your soaking entrance.

“are you blushing? awe-ahh..”

yes, Jay is and he has no idea how you can even see it with this dim lighting and your uneven vision. he knew you were gonna tease him like you always and he usually doesn't mind. it's just that all he can think of right now is your pussy, fucking it a lot until you're all spent.

he hasn’t prepped you with his fingers but you love the stretch each time your pussy takes his cock. at first, he was hesitant since he’s always wanted to make sure you’re always ready before sex but you're determined and eventually, you managed to convince him.

“tight..fuck, i’ll never get used to this ugh” he hisses, spewing more praises at how good you feel around him and you’re leaving kisses around his handsome face in return.

“i think i can move now baby” you reassure him, circling your hips to test the waters.

his hands are on your waist, his grip tightening when you start bouncing on him.

"g-gorgeous.." he whispers. "you're so gorgeous my love" he adds quietly and you clenched around him as a result. watching your boyfriend struggle to hold himself because of you boosts your confidence.

the way he reacts to everything that you do encourages you to do it more, wanting to see how good you make him feel.

"j-jongseong.."

it's taking a toll on your legs but you can feel Jay so deep that it's overpowering it. he can feel it though, your waning energy so he sits up before laying you gently on your back without removing himself from you.

"fuck baby, i'm close" he speeds his thrusts once he feels your legs tighten around his waist.

"close, close, mhmm" you're slurring your words, dazedly looking at Jay that he falters in his pace. you're too pretty like this, sprawled under him while he's making you feel so good. there's nothing in this world that makes him happy aside from this.

it pushes him to reach his peak, filling you up like you always wanted.

"you good babe?" he prods, stroking your warm cheeks with the back of his fingers.

"yea..so good.." you're breathless when you respond but your boyfriend's looking at you lovingly. the subtle thrusts of his hips soothe your walls despite the sensitivity, always have been when you're both riding your high.

his deep chuckle reverberates in sync with your heavy breathing, whining when he pulls out of you. he urges you to stand up so you both can clean up at the bathroom, and comply reluctantly. being the caring person that he is, Jay solely cleans you up first even when you keep fighting him off.

you're clearly sleepy now so he helps you in putting on a fresh set of clothes. the entire time that he briefly left you, he was changing the sheets and put your clothes to the laundry so you'd be ready to sleep as soon as you're done.

lying down, you nuzzle the comforter while waiting for your boyfriend to join you in bed. you're dead tired though but he's still in the washroom so you're gonna close your eyes for a bit.

"i love you" you call out to him, the sleep waving over you but you're trying to stay conscious.

"i love you too baby" he responds as he finishes up, eager to join you since sleep's coming to him as well. however, when he came out of the door, he finds you already sleeping.

jay didn’t mean to fuck you to exhaustion but watching you sleep soundly tugs his heart a little. you finally look peaceful unlike the weariness in your face that you tried to hide earlier. all because of him and he's more than happy to do it again, anything for the person he loves the most.

.

e/n: it's been ages lmao and i realized i had this last min 💀. summer and september were so busy for me and i tried writing whenever i can. but now it's October and i'll be more busy? (i go out/party almost every day/week when i'm not working) so i'm gonna focus on my Halloween/scary fics since yk i can only post them this month.

[kairoot]

𝑴𝑶𝑶𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 — 西村力.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: during the village’s annual moon festival, the moon shines big and bright. legend says that it reveals a person’s true emotions under its light and can rekindle lost feelings. when you move to the little romance village, it’s bustling with talk of the festival and a famous local painter. deciding to see what the gossip was about, you attend said moon festival. but what happens when you run into this unknown artist under the moon’s light?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: niki x 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : fluff , s2l, soulmates (???), folklore kinda thing.. 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 : no 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : riki is kind of a loner .. ( 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 ) : special thank you to nini ^^ @flwrstqr for proofreading for me, I love u ♡︎. pls leave reblogs, they are much appreciated !! ♡︎ WC: 3.3K

**

THE VILLAGE SQUARE WAS a kaleidoscope of lights, colors, and laughter. Lanterns hung from just about every surface, casting a warm, golden glow over the cobblestone streets. The air was full of sweet scents, coming from every corner of the small town.

You weaved through the large crowd, taking in all of the sights and sounds. It was beyond anything you’d ever experienced. Being a new resident to the town, you couldn’t understand what all of the excitement was about over one festival but now you felt the same way everyone else did.

Melodic strains of the village’s music played, causing people all around to dance together, not caring if they were strangers to one another. You smiled, the sight somehow bringing you joy.

After walking a few miles, an older shop catches your eye. The traditional decorations hanging outside the tiny building, with a crescent moon sketched on the wooden door. You opened it to walk in, the small bell ringing as the door moved.

You were greeted with the sharp tang of an earthy aroma of dried clay and the rich smell of more wood from the easels, frames, and shelves. The subtle hint of fresh pencil shavings, and the crisp scent of new canvases waiting to be transformed.

A few employees smiled and waved at you, their kindness making you feel welcome as you got ready to explore this new environment. The store was quiet; the only noise being a few painters conversing with one another, the low traditional music that played in the background, and pencils or paintbrushes moving against the canvases.

You walked further into the shop, wandering around the shelves to look at different tools and paintings that had been hung up on display.

You ran your hand over the wooden shelf, another crescent moon etched into the dark surface.

This town is serious about the moon, you thought.

You continued your mini journey through the aisles, amazed by some of the artistry inside of them.

But a certain painting seems to pique your interest. You let your feet guide you to the image, captivated by the delicate brushstrokes that brought the scene to life. Just as you let your fingertips graze the painting, another hand brushed against yours. Startled, you pulled your hand away at the same time as the other person’s, causing the art to fall to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologize to the stranger, before you both chuckle at the small incident. The stranger crouches to pick the canvas up from the ground, holding it with a firm grasp.

You look up, only to see a much taller male in front of you, dressed in all black with a paint splattered apron tied around his waist. His eyes sharp but filled with surprise as he stared back at you.

His beauty captivated you in a way. In a way where you couldn’t even find your words or perhaps even start a conversation.

You both stood silently until he sucked in a breath, hesitant on whether he wanted to say something.

“So, uh—, arts’ your thing, too?” He glanced at the painting in his hands and then back at you, a gentle smile making its way to his face.

“I guess I’ve found it kind of interesting lately,” you beamed, feeling a bit more at ease. “What about you?”

“Yeah, uh, this is mine actually..” He trailed off. Your eyes widened in surprise, suddenly feeling guilty for the incident that had occurred a few minutes earlier.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to knock it down, I was just curious, and—“

He looked down, chuckling, “It’s no problem. I was thinking of chunking it anyway.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “But it’s way too good for you to just throw away like that.”

He shrugged, still smiling a bit. “I don’t know.. I’m just not too fond of it.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Why’s that? It seems really beautiful to me.”

He looked at you with a spark of enthusiasm in his eyes. “Well, if you’re interested, you can make your own. I give mini-lessons from time to time. If you’re free, I’d be happy to show you some techniques.”

A smile crept onto your face. “I’d love that.”

“I’m Riki, by the way.” He extended his larger hand.

You shook his hand, the warm and firm grip making you feel as if you had butterflies in your stomach.

“Y/n.”

The sunlight filtered gently through the shop's windows, casting a warm, inviting glow over the art supplies and canvases. You arrived at the store a bit early, your excitement barely contained. Riki was setting up a small workspace in the back corner, his movements precise and deliberate. The room was filled with the rich scents of paint and wood, a comforting backdrop for the lesson ahead.

“Hey,” Riki greeted as you walked in, his smile making your heart flutter. “Ready for your mini-lesson?”

You nodded, trying to maintain a calm exterior but feeling a tingle of nerves. “Definitely!”

Riki’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he motioned for you to join him at the small table. “Alright, grab an apron and we’ll start with some basics. I’ll show you how to create depth and texture in your painting.”

You took one of the dark aprons off of the hook by the door and took a seat. Riki’s proximity made you acutely aware of his presence. He stood close enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the earthy aroma of the paint. As he demonstrated the brushstrokes, his hand occasionally brushed against yours, sending a shy smile to your lips.

“Alright, so you want to use a light touch for the highlights,” Riki said, his voice warm and encouraging. He leaned in slightly to show you the technique up close, his face just inches from yours. The closeness made your cheeks warm, and you found it hard to focus on the painting as you became acutely aware of the soft sound of his breath and the gentle way he spoke.

“Like this,” he continued, guiding your hand with his own. His fingers were careful and steady, and you felt a gentle pressure as he helped you maneuver the brush. “The key is to layer the colors gradually, so it builds up the texture without looking too harsh.”

His hand lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him. Riki’s eyes were soft, and his smile was reassuring. “You’re doing great. Just remember to relax and let the brush do the work.”

You nodded, trying to steady your breath as you followed his instructions. The way he spoke to you, with such patience and attentiveness, made your heart race. Each time he leaned in to offer guidance, you felt a flutter of shyness but also an endearing sense of comfort.

Riki moved to the other side of the table, giving you space but still offering occasional tips and encouragement. “You’re really picking this up fast,” he said with genuine admiration, his voice carrying a note of pride. “You have a natural eye for detail..”

You blushed at his compliment, focusing on your painting with renewed determination. “Thanks. I’ve really enjoyed learning from you.”

He smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting a hint of something more than just professional interest. “I’ve enjoyed having you as my ‘student’.”

As the lesson continued, you found yourself growing more confident. Riki’s careful instruction and the way he interacted with you made the experience both educational and heartwarming. Every time he offered a correction or praised your work, it felt like a gentle nudge toward something greater.

By the end of the session, you were both smiling, the painting before you a testament to the techniques Riki had shared. “I think you’re ready for more advanced techniques next time,” he said, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “But for now, you’ve done really great.”

You beamed, feeling a mix of accomplishment and affection for the kind-hearted teacher who had made your art journey so special. “Thank you. I can’t wait for our next lesson.”

As you packed up your things, Riki’s gaze lingered on you with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m looking forward to it too,” he said softly. “See you soon.”

You left the shop with a smile, carrying not just the knowledge of painting but also the warmth of a shared connection.

A few days later, the festival was in full swing again, but this time it was a different night. You decided to take a quiet walk to a nearby beach, not too far from the festival setup. The moon hung low in the sky, casting its silver light over the ocean waves.

You carried with you a small set of painting materials, inspired by the techniques Riki had taught you. Setting up on the sand, you began to paint the scene before you: the moonlit waves and the gentle shimmer of the water. With each brushstroke, you used the tips he had given you, trying to capture the serene beauty of the moment.

The night was quiet, save for the soft sound of the waves and the occasional distant laughter from the festival. As you worked, you felt a sense of peace and contentment, lost in the beauty of the moment.

After a while, you sensed someone approaching. Turning slightly, you saw Riki walking towards you, his eyes bright with curiosity and admiration. He stopped a few feet away, watching you paint with a soft smile on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice gentle. "I didn't expect to find you here."

You smiled back, feeling a flutter of happiness at his presence. "I needed some quiet time to practice. I’ve been kind of inspired."

Riki moved closer, sitting down next to you on the sand. His proximity was comforting, and you felt a warm sense of connection as he admired your work. "You've really captured the essence of the scene," he said, his eyes scanning your painting. "It's like seeing the world through your eyes."

His compliment made your heart swell with pride. "Thanks.. I’ve been trying to use the techniques you taught me.”

“Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his face. “My techniques?”

You chuckled lightly, nodding, “Yes, your technique.”

You continued to paint, occasionally glancing at Riki, who watched with genuine interest.

The moonlight cast a soft glow on his features, making the moment feel even more magical. After a while, Riki spoke, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

"You know, the legend of the moon... it's said to reveal the truth about one's emotions," he began, his eyes fixed on the waves. "I've always been afraid to let the moon see mine, not after what happened before."

You looked at him with curiosity. “What happened?”

He sighed softly, looking out at the ocean. “I once let the moonlight reveal my true feelings and it led to heartbreak. It was... painful.. But that’s a story for another day..”

He turned to you, his eyes sincere and vulnerable. “Somehow, being with you, I don’t feel that fear. There’s something about tonight, and about you, that makes me believe in the magic of the moon again.”

You felt a pang of sympathy and reached out, gently placing your hand on his. “Riki, you don’t have to talk about it if you’re not comfortable.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. “Thank you. It’s just... hard to think about sometimes. The pain was so real, and it made me afraid to show my true emotions again.”

You squeezed his hand gently, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Take your time. I’m here. Though we met nights ago, I’m here.”

 Riki‘s eyes softened, and he gave you a small, appreciative smile. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

The moon’s light bathed the beach in a gentle glow, illuminating the quiet understanding between you. Riki’s honesty and openness resonated deeply, and you felt a sense of connection that was both comforting and profound.

He shifted slightly, moving closer to you until your shoulders almost touched. The warmth of his body next to yours was a silent reassurance, a wordless promise of support. “You’re really something, you know that?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you turned to look at him, finding his gaze already on you. “I could say the same about you,” you replied, feeling the intimacy of the moment deepen.

Riki’s eyes held a mixture of vulnerability and strength, a silent testament to the pain he carried and the bravery it took to admit it. He took a deep breath, his fingers brushing against yours as he spoke. “It’s just... sometimes the memories are too painful. But being here with you, it makes it a little easier to bare.”

You felt a surge of tenderness for him, your heart aching at the thought of the hurt he’d endured. “I’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”

He nodded, his eyes glistening with unspoken emotion. “Thank you. It’s... it’s a lot, but knowing I have someone who understands means everything.”

The waves whispered their secrets to the shore, and the moon shone down, wrapping you both in its gentle embrace. The moment was filled with quiet revelations and tender support, a reminder that sometimes, the simple act of being present could be the greatest comfort of all. 

As the night continued, you returned to your painting, the brush gliding smoothly across the canvas. Riki watched you with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with admiration and something more—a tenderness that was growing stronger with each passing moment.

Unbeknownst to both of you, the moonlight was beginning to take effect, subtly enhancing the emotions between you. Every glance exchanged, every soft touch, carried a deeper meaning, an unspoken promise of what could be.

You finished your painting, setting the brush down and turning to Riki. He reached out, taking your hand in his. “Come on,” he said softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let’s take a break.”

He led you to the water’s edge, where the waves gently lapped at the shore. The cool water splashed over your feet, sending a delightful shiver up your spine. Riki laughter filled the air, infectious and free, and you couldn’t help but join in.

You ran along the shoreline, the waves chasing after you, and for a moment, all your worries melted away. Riki caught up to you, grabbing your hand and spinning you around, both of you laughing as you stumbled into the shallow waves.

The moonlight danced on the water, casting a magical glow over everything. You splashed each other, the cool water mingling with the warmth of your laughter. Riki’s hand never left yours, his grip firm yet gentle, grounding you in the moment.

At one point, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as the waves rolled in. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you under the moon’s tender gaze. You looked up at him, your heart swelling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name but felt deeply in your soul.

“Riki,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the ocean.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “I know,” he replied softly, his breath mingling with yours. “I feel it too.”

The moonlight seemed to intensify, casting a silver halo around you both. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken words and shared feelings. Then, with a gentle tug, Riki led you back to the shore, where you sat together, the waves gently lapping at your feet.

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you. The night was filled with love-filled glances and quiet intimacy, a perfect blend of comfort and connection. The magic of the moon had done its work, weaving a spell of closeness that would linger long after the night had ended.

You both sat in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythmic sound of the waves providing a soothing backdrop. Riki’s fingers traced gentle patterns on your hand, his touch sending a pleasant shiver through you. He seemed lost in thought, and you didn’t want to disturb the quiet peace that had settled over you both.

But then, as if needing to break the silence, he spoke again, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever fully heal from what happened. It’s like a part of me is still stuck in that moment.”

You turned to him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. “Healing takes time, Riki. And it’s okay to feel that way. Just remember, you don’t have to face it alone.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I do. Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here. And if you’re not ready, that’s okay too.”

Riki’s gaze softened, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. 

The intimacy of the moment deepened, the air around you thick with unspoken emotions. Riki’s fingers continued to trace gentle patterns on your hand, each touch sending a warm, tingling sensation through you. You could feel the connection between you growing stronger, the bond solidifying in a way that felt both natural and profound.

As the night wore on, the two of you shared stories, laughter, and moments of comfortable silence. You found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn’t expected, sharing parts of yourself you usually kept hidden. Riki listened with genuine interest, his responses thoughtful and kind.

Eventually, the lure of the waves became irresistible again, and you found yourselves splashing through the shallows, once again, laughing and playing like children. Riki’s laughter was infectious, his joy a balm to your soul. You chased each other through the surf, the cool water a delightful contrast to the warmth of your growing affection.

At one point, Riki caught you around the waist, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You laughed, the sound pure and free, your heart swelling with happiness. He set you down gently, his arms still wrapped around you as the waves hit your ankles.

The moonlight bathed you both in its gentle glow, casting a magical light over the scene. Riki’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “For everything.”

You smiled, your heart full. “I should be the one thanking you. This has been... amazing.”

Riki’s eyes held a promise, a silent vow of what could be. “Let’s make a pact,” he said softly. “No more hiding. From the moon, from each other, from ourselves.”

You nodded, feeling a surge of hope and determination. “Deal.”

The night continued, filled with love-filled glances, quiet intimacy, and the gentle lapping of the waves. The magic of the moon had woven a spell of connection and understanding, one that would linger long after the festival lights had faded. As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you knew that this night would be a cherished memory, a moment of pure, unadulterated connection.

And as Riki‘s hand found yours once more, you knew that even if you had met only nights before, for some reason you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

✩

TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @flwrstqr @elysianiki — send an ask to join.

[plussizefantasia]

Don't Cry Over Spilled Lemonade

Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None that I can think of, this is kinda angsty tho

A/N: Surprise post IG I wrote this in my notes app because I couldn't sleep so if there are spelling or grammar issues I'm sorry. let me know if you want a part two because I wouldn't mind continuing this.

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings. You had become a close family friend ever since you defended Daphne against some creep at her first-ever ball out in society, it was your second season and you had taken it upon yourself to keep an eye on the diamond, looking out for her quietly in the background.

You weren’t going to intervene at all, just offer her some advice woman to woman if the need arose but when you saw Baron Taylor grab the redhead by the wrist you couldn’t hold back.

Anthony himself was only seconds away from coming to his sister's aid when you ‘accidently’ tripped into the man spilling your glass of lemonade down the front of his vest. 

“Perhaps my Lord if we kept our hands to ourselves certain… interventions might’ve not had to happen. Don’t you think?” When Anthony had seen your raised eyebrow and defensive posture all aimed at the scumbag who dared lay a hand on his baby sister he couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love right then and there. Not that he’d ever admit it to himself or anyone else for that matter.

A day later Daphne had invited you to tea at their family house in order to thank you for the rescue and potentially make a new friend and ally within the marriage mart.

Ever since that day, you’d been a regular in his home, but you were never there for him as much as he’d have liked you to be. No, you were always there for one of his siblings. You were there to talk with Daphne, first about her counting of the duke and then slowly transitioning into how she felt about being a married woman and then a mother. He could also find you sketching in silence next to Benedict, the two of you after attending to draw the same scene and then critiquing each other's work when you were done. You would trade books and ideas with Eloise, listen to Fran play the piano while working on your embroidery, and the scenes which would warm his heart the most, you’d come around to chase after Greg and Hyancith playing with them in the gardens and keeping a watchful eye to make sure they stayed safe. 

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings, and he loathed how much of a distance there seemed to be between the two of you. 

You were cold to the Viscount, you had been since the evening you came to Daphne’s rescue, he had attempted to give you his thanks and you had simply excused yourself, “My apologies my Lord but I seem to be down a glass of lemonade presently and I find myself to be quite parched, excuse me.” Your tone was cold and Anthony spent the rest of that night and the next two years trying to figure out what he possibly couldn’t done to make you so icy towards him.

“I do not understand it Ben, she is so kind and lovely to the rest of you but is like a stone wall when it comes to me, what could I be missing?”

“Perhaps she just doesn’t like you brother have you ever thought of that?” Benedict was too preoccupied with this still life to deal with his older brothers pining at the moment. 

“That is not possible, I’ve done nothing but be the perfect gentleman to her.” 

“Anthony I have no idea why dear Y/N does not like you but what exactly will you whining in my studio do about that?” 

“I resent that. I am not whining I am simply asking my dearest brother for his advice on a matter I care very much about. I thought that was what brothers were for.”

“You want my advice, Anthony? Think. Think long and hard about what you want and how you’ll get it because Y/N has no patience for wishy-washy men.”

“That is horrible advice, Ben.”

“When then perhaps you can find better advice from your other brothers. Which will it be Anthony, the one who has been blindly in love with his best friend for years, or the ten-year-old?” 

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know. Now leave, that storm cloud above your head is casting shadows on my fruit.” Ben pointed his paintbrush at the bowl of fruit balanced atop a stool. Anthony huffed and knowing that it would bother his brother, he grabbed the apple off the top of the pile and took a bite of it as he strode out of the room

Ben had told him to think, but Anthony didn’t know what to think about. He knew that he craved your attention. He knew that he enjoyed seeing you around his house, interacting with the people whom he loves. He enjoyed hearing your witty comebacks and the way that even if you were not doing anything in particular you still fill the space you’re in.

He wanted her in his life, and if he was being completely honest with himself he wanted more than that. 

It’s during his musing that he runs into her in the hallway, you have a book clutched within your hand, and your head is held high. You don’t stop your stride even though he knows that you saw him. He bites his lip and tampers down a smirk. Add another thing to that list of things he likes about you, you have fire, he just wished that it wasn’t always aimed at him.

“Lady, L/N which one of my dear siblings are you spending your day with today?” He attempts to match his pace with yours catching up to you so that the two of you walk shoulder and shoulder.

“Actually, Lord Bridgerton, I was having tea with your mother this afternoon she invited me over so we could discuss what to do about Frannie’s debut next season.”

This was not something that normal family friends do, you know that and he knows that. His sibling’s entrances into society are a matter which the viscountess must handle, something his mother has had to continue to do because of his lack of a wife. 

“That was very kind of you to help her with.”

“Well, she doesn’t have anyone else to help her.” Your words cut him down, not for the first time. 

“Lady L/N may I be frank?”

“It is your home, you may do as you please.” You turn to face him, your face a mask of indifference. 

“What have I done to cross you, for the longest time I have known you you have been cold to me and I do not understand why?” 

“I had figured that you did not remember, either that or you had purposely forgone trying to speak with me about it.”

“About what?” 

“Our first meeting My Lord.” 

“I remember our first meeting very clearly, it is one of my fondest memories seeing you stand up for Daphne and ruin Lord Taylor’s vest.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles at the memory.

“That was not the first time we met My Lord, the first time we met you snubbed me in front of the entire ton and sparked rumors that did not leave me until two seasons later.” She was harsh in her words and the tightness in her shoulder’s belayed her desire to flee.

Anthony was speechless, surely he had not? He would’ve remembered her, would’ve remembered turning down one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, intentionally or otherwise. 

“I- I beg your deepest forgiveness Y/N I do not remember and if I had I would’ve tried to make it up to you tenfold by now.”

Your eyes began to gloss over and you looked at the wall beside his head, “It was my first season out, Lady Danbury’s ball, and I had seen you standing there surrounded by other gentleman. I had thought you a very fine figure and despite the rumor mill telling me you were nothing but a rake I had tried to begin a conversation. All you did was turn to me and laugh. I wasn’t asked to dance for the entire rest of that season and it was only until my Mother forced the son of one of her garden party friends to dance with me was that streak broken. You were the first and only man I had ever attempted to pursue and you laughed in my face. Were it not for my deep need to help those I see in need I would never have talked to you or any member of the Bridgerton family for the rest of my life.”

“You must know that I regret that, I regret everything I have ever done to hurt you and I will spend the rest of my days working for your forgiveness.” If Anthony was a weaker man he would’ve fallen to his knees and begged for your forgiveness until his last breath, right there in the hallways of his family’s home.

“I appreciate your words Anthony, but that’s all they are… words. I am unmarried, one year from becoming a spinster in the eyes of the entire ton, and you, you are the only one I can blame.” You don’t wait for his reply, just stalking off and wiping the tears from your eyes.

Anthony resolved himself in that moment. He would do whatever it took to make it up to you, to bring a smile to your face, and to cast away the hurt he had caused.

Part 2

[the-winter-spider]

What I Have | B. Barnes

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: Probably the fluffiest piece ive written lol

A/N: I was listening to What I Have by Kelsea Ballerini and well here we are lol

—-

The year was 2024, over one hundred years since you were born—105, to be exact. Your life hadn’t turned out at all like you had dreamed or hoped it would.

You were supposed to marry the boy next door once the war was done. You’d picked out your wedding dress while window shopping with your best friend, even before he proposed. You made a scrapbook, meticulously curating hairstyles and makeup looks, debating over the choices as if they were the most pressing decisions in the world.

You sketched out your dream house, selecting the colors, the flowers for the front garden, and the vegetables you would surely grow in the back. You even chose the font for your new last name on the mailbox.

You had each of your children’s names picked out—three, to be exact. Two boys and one girl, you had hoped. Everything was a dream, but it seemed so close, so possible, as if it should have been a reality. You should be dead by now, having lived a full life, with your children who should have been walking the earth with their children, your grandchildren.

But everything went wrong. Literally, everything possible went wrong.

Bucky fell off a train and died. He actually fell off a train, and they declared him dead. In reality, he had lost his arm, survived the fall because Hydra had already experimented on him. They brainwashed him, like something out of a twisted fairy tale, turning him into a deadly assassin. Your beautiful, blue-eyed Bucky, your sweet Bucky, became a killer. A Bucky you would never see again, because even though he was still here, and you were so thankful for that, he would never be your Bucky again.

And then there was Steve. Of course, Steve found him, because of course! And let’s not forget that your best friend, Steve, who was once smaller than you, was injected with a serum that not only tripled his size but turned him into a superhero because, yes, apparently those needed to exist. Of course, he went off to war, driven by a need for revenge for his best friend, your fiancé Bucky. And of course, he had to be noble, going down for the cause, leading everyone to believe he was dead. But of course, he wasn’t. They found him, frozen but alive, because he was Captain America, and that’s just what happens.

And then there was you, consumed by grief, first losing the love of your life and then your best friend. You begged, on your knees, begged Howard Stark to use you as his test subject for cryogenic testing. You couldn’t bear to be here without your boys. He hesitated because he loved Steve, and he knew Steve wouldn’t want this for you. But when you threatened that if he didn’t, you would take your own life, he relented. So, of course, it worked because it was Howard, and he was a Stark. But decades passed, and the year he was supposed to wake you up, The Winter Soldier murdered him. So, as usual, you stayed frozen, but alive, until Howard’s son, Tony, found you in his father’s hidden lab.

You woke up to a world that was not your own, a century too late for the life you were supposed to live. The world had moved on, but you hadn’t. Your friends were legends now, mythologized beyond recognition. And you, well, you were the ghost of what could have been.

The years that followed were a blur of new faces, new battles, and new griefs. You tried to adapt, to find a place in this future that had no room for you. But every corner of this brave new world reminded you of the past, of the life that slipped through your fingers.

And then one day, while sifting through old boxes in Tony’s lab, you found something. It was an old, faded book, as soon as you saw the brown cover you heart dropped you knew what it was, it waa your scrapbook. The cover had an old faded photo of you, Bucky, and Steve, taken on a sunny day before the world went mad. You barely recognized the girl in the photo, with her bright smile and unbroken heart. But there she was, a relic of a time that now felt like a dream.

You realised then that maybe you didn’t belong in this world. Maybe you never did. But as long as you were here, you could try—try to make sense of the pieces left behind, to find some small measure of peace in the chaos.

And that’s exactly what you did. Even though you didn’t have the life you had once dreamed of, you still had them. And in what world does all that trauma happen, and you still end up alive with your boys?

You picked up the dusty book, holding it close to your heart, as you navigated through the compound, following the sound of laughter coming from the living room. You paused just outside the doorway, soaking in the warmth of his laugh—a sound you feared you might never hear again after Bucky began recovering from his trauma. But here it was, filling the room, and even though it wasn’t the same Bucky you knew decades ago, his laugh was unchanged, and it made your heart swell.

Rounding the corner, you saw Steve clutching his chest in joy, playfully shoving Sam, who was grinning widely.

Bucky’s eyes immediately found yours; he could always find you in any room. “Hi, doll,” he said, getting up to kiss your cheek and taking your hand to lead you to the couch.

“Hi, Buck. Hi, Stevie, Sammy,” you greeted them, settling in beside Bucky.

Sam rolled his eyes at the nickname. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Bucky glanced down at the book in your arms. “What’s that?”

Steve’s smile faded into something more serious as he noticed the book, instantly recognizing it. “Is that what I think it is?”

You nodded, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “Stark… he kept it. I haven’t opened it yet. I thought… I thought we could do it together.”

“What is it?” Sam asked, his curiosity piqued.

“It’s my life,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “There are a few pages of what I thought it would turn out to be… but after everything happened…” You paused, taking a steadying breath. The memories of losing Bucky and Steve were still fresh, no matter how much time had passed. “I never planned or dreamed of anything else. It just felt silly without you boys. So, I just filled it with photographs.”

“Photographs of who?” Sam asked, leaning forward.

“Everyone,” you replied softly, glancing between Bucky and Steve. “Peggy and Mrs. Rogers,” you said, meeting Steve’s gaze. You saw the emotion in his eyes at the mention of his mother. “Becca and Winnie, Mr. Barnes,” you continued, feeling Bucky tense slightly at the mention of his mother and sister, their faces now distant memories. “I even have Howard and the Commandos.” You smiled a little. “But mostly, it’s us—all of us.”

Bucky reached out, gently taking the book from your hands. His fingers brushed the worn cover, the room fell silent as the weight of the past settled around you all.

“Let’s open it together,” Steve suggested, his voice thick with emotion. He moved closer, his presence a steady anchor as you all gathered around the book. Sam stayed distant, letting the three of you have your moment but still staying there.

Bucky opened the cover, and the first page revealed a photograph of you, Bucky, and Steve, taken in a simpler time. The three of you looked so young, so hopeful. You felt Bucky’s hand tighten around yours as he stared at the image, memories rushing back. It was a photo from your 16th birthday, the day he had gifted you the book.

“I gave this to you,” Bucky said quietly, the realization settling over him.

You nodded. “For my birthday. You wrote…” You trailed off, pointing to the top left corner of the front of the book.

He read the words aloud, his voice filled with emotion. “Happy 16th birthday to my best girl. I hope you fill these pages with your hopes and dreams. I can only hope that somewhere in amongst them, I’ll be a part of it. With all the love, Bucky.”

Sam smiled, leaning back in his seat. “Who knew you were such a romantic, Buck?”

You watched as Bucky’s cheeks flushed a light shade of red at the comment, and you gave his knee a gentle squeeze, feeling the warmth of the old affection between you.

“For y/n, he was crazy,” Steve chimed in, grinning. “You should have seen him—head over heels is an understatement. Try obses—”

Before Steve could finish, Bucky reached behind you and gave him a playful shove. “Can it, Rogers,” he muttered, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Steve just laughed, catching himself before he toppled over. “You know it’s true.”

You chuckled, resting your head against Bucky’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

Bucky’s hand found yours again, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. “Neither would I.”

As you all shared a quiet moment, the weight of the years seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of old memories and the comfort of the present. Bucky turned the page, revealing more photographs—snapshots of moments that had once seemed so ordinary but now felt like treasures.

The pages turned slowly, revealing a life that could have been—a wedding dress sketched out, a house with a picket fence, names of children that never came to be. And then, the photographs—snapshots of moments frozen in time. Peggy’s bright smile, Mrs. Rogers’ kind eyes, the mischievous grins of Becca and Winnie, Howard’s confident stance, the Commandos’ camaraderie. But the most frequent faces were your own, Bucky’s, and Steve’s, from a time when the world was both simpler and infinitely more complex.

Each image told a story. There was one of you and Steve dancing at a neighbourhood block party, both of you laughing so hard you could barely stand. Another showed Bucky in his military uniform, giving you a wink as he prepared to head off to basic training. Then there were pictures of Steve and Bucky goofing around, each trying to outdo the other in some silly stunt, and you caught in the middle, rolling your eyes but smiling all the same.

There were pictures of Bucky and you around the campfire on the night before everything changed—before he fell off the train. Bucky paused on that photo, his eyes lingering on it. “That was the night before…” he said softly.

You nodded, squeezing his hand, understanding the weight of those words.

“Night before what?” Sam asked, his voice gentle.

“Before I fell,” Bucky replied, those three words carrying a lifetime of pain and loss. The room grew still, the significance of that moment hanging heavy in the air. Sam didn’t say anything more, sensing the depth of emotion in Bucky’s words.

Bucky’s gaze remained fixed on the photo, his voice quiet as he continued. “It was the last time I felt so much joy… I feel it now, but it was different then.”

Steve nodded in agreement, his expression solemn. “I get it, Buck.”

“Me too,” you added, your voice trembling slightly. “I keep thinking about what was supposed to be, what should have been.” You paused, wiping a tear from your eye. “I don’t understand why it all happened the way it did—why I didn’t get the life I thought I was going to.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky whispered, his hand gently reaching out to wipe away your tears, his touch as tender as it had always been.

The room fell into a reverent silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts, the weight of your shared history settling over you like a heavy blanket. Finally, Sam spoke, his voice soft and full of understanding. “You’ve lived a hell of a life.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you wiped away a stray tear. “It wasn’t what I planned,” you admitted, your voice thick with emotion. “But I wouldn’t trade it. Not if it meant losing this—losing you… both of you.”

Bucky’s hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “We didn’t get the life we dreamed of, but we got each other. And that’s enough.”

Steve leaned back, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “We’ve been through so much, but we’re still here. Together.”

Sam smiled, the warmth in his expression offering a quiet reassurance. “That’s what matters in the end. Not what you lost, but what you’ve kept.”

“Till the end of the line,” Steve spoke, the words heavy with emotion and depth.

“Till the end of the line,” Bucky echoed, pulling you closer to his side.

You glanced around the room at the faces of the people who had become your family—the ones who had stood by you through the darkest of times.

As the pages of the scrapbook turned, the photographs shifted from black-and-white to colour, reflecting the passage of time. The images grew fewer as the years became harder, but each one was more precious because of it.

Finally, you reached the last page, where an empty space awaited a new photograph. You looked up at Bucky and Steve, both of them gazing at the book with a mix of nostalgia and gratitude.

“You should take a new photo,” Sam suggested, his voice soft but certain. “One to mark this moment.”

Bucky nodded, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that melted away the years. “Yeah, we should.”

Steve grinned. “I’ll get the camera.”

As Steve stood to retrieve a camera, you leaned into Bucky, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand. This was the life you had, and it was more than enough. The empty space in the book was no longer a reminder of what was lost, but a promise of what was yet to come—a new chapter, filled with love, laughter, and the people who mattered most.

Sam took the camera from Steve, ready to take the picture. But just as he was about to snap the shot, you paused. “Wait!”

“What? You don’t have food in your teeth, but your hair…” Sam teased with a smirk.

“Well, I was going to say I want you in the picture too, but…” You trailed off

“No, no! I’m sorry, you’re beautiful… perfect—”

“Sam, watch it, that’s my girl,” Bucky warned, a protective edge to his voice.

Sam rolled his eyes, chuckling. “The whole world knows that, Buck.” He placed the camera on the tripod and took a seat beside Steve. “You sure you want me in this?”

“Of course, Sammy! You’re one of us now,” you insisted, smiling warmly at him.

Sam’s expression softened, and he nodded, touched by your words. As the camera clicked, capturing the four of you together, you knew that this was the memory that would fill that final page—the proof that even after everything, you still had your boys, old and new, and they still had you.

The book might never hold the life you once dreamed of, but it would hold the life you had lived—the one you had fought for, the one you had loved.

And that was more than enough.

[snowballseal]

okay halloween request... PUMPKIN CARVING WITH THE BOYS ? for some of them I feel like it'd be their first time, and for others I think it could get so chaotic and messy 😭 it's always something I've personally enjoyed and look forward to every year, so I'd super interested to see your take on it !

Carving pumpkins with them (LaDS)

Note: LOVED this! This is what I was hoping for this season. I honestly just went with the first idea I had for each, and I hope it suits what you wanted!

Also, there might be a few mistakes because I just really want to post it. I'll go through and edit it later.

Hope y'all enjoy!!!

---

Rafayel

“Rafayel! Hey, wait- No-!”

“Inspiration can’t wait,” the artist declares, twirling his scoop theatrically before diving into his pumpkin. “Sometimes you have to make a mess for the sake of creativity.”

“You can’t just wait ten seconds for me to put the tarp down?” You can’t help but laugh, desperately trying to spread the plastic out before pumpkin guts end up everywhere. And failing, you might add. 

“It’s my studio, it’s used to my mess already.” Rafayel shrugs his shoulders with one of those stupidly charming smiles. “Now hurry! This lighting is perfect for carving.”

“Okay, okay, don’t leave me behind,” you chirp, all but abandoning the stupid tarp. If he doesn’t care about the mess, why should you? “Scoot over, fishie!”

Rafayel easily makes room for you to jump onto the couch next to him. Besides the tarp, everything is already set out. Your pumpkins, the tools, even a few sketched designs you both worked on. While yours are all pretty simple, or classic as you would so vehemently insist, Rafayel’s are intricate and full of life, much like the rest of his art. Much like him.

A warm mix of nostalgia and giddiness swirl in your chest as the smell of pumpkin slowly fills the air. There’s something so satisfying about hollowing out your pumpkin, sticky, orange insides falling to the floor around you. It’s a mess. A huge mess. But that makes it all the more fun. It feels exactly like when you were a kid.

You glance to the side, biting down on a smile when you take in the equally excited look on Rafayel’s face. He looks so carefree in the golden light of the evening, completely focused on the task in front of him, tongue poked out between his lips ever so slightly. So adorable. 

“How are you going to finish if you stare at me the whole time, cutie?”

Rafayel casts you an amused look, having completely caught you in your moment of admiration. Heat creeps up your neck, tinging your skin an adorable shade of pink in his eyes. He loves the rare moment he catches you off guard, leaving you a sputtering, flustered mess. Like now.

“I wasn’t staring,” you try to defend yourself, though your voice pitches up, a telltale sign of your lie.

“Mhm.” The artist’s lips quirk into a smirk and he leans his chin against his hand, eyes never leaving yours. And that only flusters you more.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Heart racing, you give Rafayel’s cheek a playful push, just to break away from the warmth in his eyes, the warmth you could drown in if you look for too long. Though the low chuckle he breathes out against your palm only makes you blush darker. “I was just- I was just thinking. That’s all. And I just happened to be looking at you when I spaced out. That’s all.”

“Hmm, and what were you thinking about?” He presses, leaning into your touch with that infuriating smile, trying to find your gaze, though you keep it stubbornly locked on your pumpkin. 

“Well, I was uh- I was thinking about um- How we could put a wager on who’s pumpkin will look better?” Oh, that’s a stupid idea. A really stupid idea.

And Rafayel knows it, too. He perks a brow, smile turning almost wolfish, “Oh yah? Alright. What would you like to wager?”

Time to backpedal. “Ummm, maybe the winner gets to pick the movie for our next movie night?”

“That’s not very interesting,” he hums, that all too familiar mischievous glint sparking in his eyes, the one that makes your pulse flutter. You’re totally done for. “How about the winner gets one wish from the loser? And they have to fulfill it, no matter what.”

Yup. Definitely done for.

But you can’t back down, right?

“Deal.”

“Alright then, you better try your best, because I don’t plan on losing, cutie.”

“You’re on, fishie.”

What begins as an excuse quickly fans into a real competition. You dive into your pumpkin with a new enthusiasm, as does Rafayel. Even if you have no shot at winning, you’re not just going to give up and let him swipe victory out from under you. You may not have an artistic bone in your body, but surely your determination can make up for some of that.

Or not.

You bite back a laugh when you finally draw back to survey your sad carving. It’s definitely a step up from the ones you carved as a child, in no small part to the skills you’ve developed in handling sharp objects, but it’s nothing jaw dropping. Still, you’re proud of your little pumpkin pal. You do your best to hide him from Rafayel’s curious eyes, determined to have your big reveal.

“Done, yet?” You ask, unable to hide your building anticipation. You’re practically vibrating on the couch.

“Just one mooore…aaaand…” Rafayel pulls back to appraise his work, the look on his face brimming with satisfaction. “Finished.”

“Okay, okay, let me see!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he clicks his tongue, turning his pumpkin away. “We have to do it at the same time?”

“Fine.” You pout, but oblige. “Three. Two. One-”

You both reveal your masterpieces.

And your jaw drops when you see his.

Sure, you expected Rafayel to go all out. The man isn’t just a painter after all. While he doesn’t sculpt often, you’ve seen his work from school and the few commissions he’s accepted, and each one blows you away.

So of course carving a pumpkin is a piece of cake for him.

He’s designed a full underwater scene, the main focus being a somewhat spooky looking angular fish. He’s carved layers upon layers into the flesh of the pumpkin, so with the light inside, it gives the piece a depth, the shadows practically moving with the flickering flames.

It’s stunning.

“I think we have a winner,” you admit with a low whistle, “Yours puts mine to shame.”

“You did better than I was expecting,” Rafayel hums, inspecting yours with pensive expression, as if it were some deep work and not just a silly, little face.

Your eyes narrow, “That doesn’t sound like a compliment, Raffie.”

“It is,” he insists, though you can see the teasing glint still in his eyes when they meet yours. “Your line work is clean and you used a lot of details. I’m impressed, really.”

“Mkay.” You shake your head, amusement curling in your chest. Even if he’s making it up, you’re still proud of your work. “So, what’s your wish, winner?”

“You’ll have to wait and find out,” Rafayel says, giving you an all too mischievous wink that tells you that whatever he has planned, it certainly won’t be good. “I can’t let this opportunity go to waste, now can I, cutie?”

---

Zayne

“I’m really okay,” you grumble under your breath.

“I’d prefer to check myself, if that’s alright,” Zayne murmurs, hand held out expectantly.

A blush spreads across your cheeks. There’s really no point arguing with him, you know that, but you can’t help but feel a touch embarrassed.

It was just meant to be a fun night. Both of you finally had the time off, so you spent weeks planning the perfect fall night. You would carve pumpkins and watch the classic seasonal movies, just like you did when you were kids. You’d gotten everything ready before he even came over, hot cocoa, a fall scented candle, everything. It was going to be perfect.

Until you go to actually carve your pumpkin, and end up cutting your finger. You, one of Linkon’s best hunters, fumbling with a simple carving knife. How could you not be embarrassed?

And, of course, Zayne immediately switched into ‘doctor’ mode, dashing whatever hopes you had of breezing by the incident.

“Your hand,” he insists again, slipping into his usual professional tone. It’s only when you give him a sharp frown that he softens a bit, voice taking on a soothing warmth, coaxing you to listen, “Please, my love.”

With a defeated sigh, you give up your injured hand, “Okay. I really am fine, though.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, as your doctor.”

You almost shiver when his fingers circle your wrist, his touch overwhelmingly gentle, his skin cool against yours. It almost feels like a chilly autumn breeze brushing your skin. You watch, heart fluttering uneasily, as he examines your finger. It’s nothing too bad, you weren’t lying. You’ve definitely experienced worse as a hunter, but you also know Zayne to be overly cautious with you. He would put you on bedrest for the most minor fever if he could. And some days, you’ll let him, since it means he’ll spend the day taking care of you, but you’d rather tonight not be like that. Tonight you just want to have fun and enjoy the season with him.

“It’s nothing concerning,” he hums eventually, “We’ll simply apply an antibiotic and wrap it for the night.”

You practically deflate at that. The breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes you in a long, relieved sigh. Zayne’s eyes narrow a little at your dramatics, amusement burning in their depths. He gives you wrist a slight squeeze, thumb brushing thoughtlessly over your pulse.

“Were you that worried we would have to reschedule?”

“I mean, a little, yah.” You shrug, cheeks going red for a new reason. “It’s already hard to find a night when we're both not busy, you know? I’ve been planning this for weeks…”

“Well, we certainly can’t let your plans go to waste.” Zayne says, somewhat teasingly, the tiniest smile flickering along his lips. “Is your first-aid kit still under the bathroom sink?”

You nod. With one final squeeze, he slips away to go retrieve it. You turn your gaze to the untouched pumpkins on the table, letting out another sigh. It really has been a long time since you’ve done this. You remember the times when you were young, when you, Zayne, and Caleb would carve pumpkins while your Grandma would bake the seeds. Afterwards, you would all settle in and watch a movie, tucked up in thick blankets with massive mugs of hot cocoa. You remember you would always wedge yourself between the boys so you could hold the snacks…

Maybe that’s why this felt so important to you. Maybe doing all this was a way of keeping their memory around. And a way of keeping him around.

“Are you alright?”

Blinking, you jump when the couch sinks beside you. Your eyes flash back to Zayne, a forlorn smile pulling at your lips.

“Yah, just thinking about when we did this as kids, you know? With Caleb and Grandma,” you hum. Zayne nods understandingly and reaches for your hand. You let him take it, mind still lingering on the past. “I don’t think I’ve carved a pumpkin since that last time we did it together. It never felt right without you…”

Zayne stays silent as he cleans your cut. You hardly notice the sting of the alcohol, keeping your eyes focused on his face. The focused draw of his brows. The slight purse of his lips. A shadow of something you can’t quite describe passes over his eyes, something worn and aching.

“I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t continue the tradition…” He murmurs, voice tight, as he applies the antibiotic.

“No need to apologize,” you chime softly. You let your gaze fall to his hands, watching the way he works, efficient and quick, yet devastatingly gentle. Always fixing things, even when it’s not his fault. “From now on, we’ll make sure to keep doing it, yah? It was just on pause for a little bit. I bet Caleb and Gran will be happy we’re bringing it back.”

The doctor stills as he finishes wrapping your finger in a bandage. He traces the edges of it, thoughtful and slow, before lifting your hand to his lips. They brush tenderly against your knuckles, a whisper of a cool touch.

“I’m sure they will be, though I’m certain Caleb would scold you for being so careless.”

You snort, eyes crinkling, “Yah, I wouldn’t hear the end of it. Though I bet you’ll make sure of that anyways.”

“As your doctor, it’s part of my job to make sure you’re taking care of yourself,” Zayne rumbles, his breath warm against your skin in contrast to his touch. “Speaking of which, change the bandage once a day and reapply the antibiotic. If it begins to look infected, please come see me at the hospital.”

“Yes, doctor,” you answer, nose scrunching a little impatiently, “Now can I have my knife back? We need to get carving!”

“Will you be more careful this time?”

“Yeeeess.”

Zayne bites back a smile, “Good. If you cut yourself again, I will have to confiscate all your knives. I can’t have my favorite patient getting hurt at home as well as at work.”

“Zayne-!”

---

Sylus

“What’s all this, sweetie?”

A gleeful laugh escaping your lips, you dump an armful of materials on Sylus’ table. He raises a fine brow at you, looking mildly unimpressed as you spread it all out.

“We’re having a pumpkin carving contest at work!” You explain, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “So I decided we’re going to make a night of it! I got the pumpkins, carving knives, a fall scented candle, for ambiance of course, and a vinyl with my favorite halloween tracks! Also for ambiance, but I thought you might appreciate it, too.”

“And if I already have plans for the night?” Sylus hums, leaning his hip against the table as he surveys your bounty.

“You’ll reschedule them,” you sing, stretching up on to your toes to curl your arms around his neck with an absolutely innocent smile, “Because you loooove me, right?”

The tilt of his lips stretches into a full smirk as his hands settle firmly on your hips, his voice low and teasing, “My, what a brave kitten you’ve become. It almost sounds like you’re not asking.”

“Sooo…is that a yes?” You peer up at him questioningly, still holding the innocent facade.

“Hmm…” Sylus hums, as if mulling the decision over. You fuss with the strands of silver at the nape of his neck, trying to give him the best puppy dog eyes you can manage. And despite what he might say, Sylus has never been good at denying you. So, carmine eyes dancing with a touch of fondness, he softens into your touch and concedes, “I suppose I can rearrange my schedule just this once.”

Though that’s what he said before, and this certainly won’t be the last time either.

Still, you let out an excited squeal, dragging him down to press a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Ah, we’re going to have so much fun! Let me lie out the tarp, I know how much you like this table.”

Sylus chuckles as you jump out of his grasp to get everything ready. It’s like watching a little bird flutter around, rearranging its nest to perfection. You move as if he might change his mind at any moment, though he subtly offers his help, using his evol to set the vinyl. The music crackles softly in the air before it smoothes into the familiar tunes you adore, only adding to the buzzing excitement in your chest.

Once everything is ready, you drag him to sit down beside you. Sylus lets you push him around, amusement curling his lips at the unbridled enthusiasm in your voice.

“Okay! So I got everything we need. Even stencils, though to be honest, I’ll be really disappointed if you use one. I really want to see what the leader of Onychinus can create. Have you carved a pumpkin before?”

You plop down on your chair, round eyes set on him expectantly.

Brow perking, Sylus huffs, “What do you take me for? An uncultured heathen?”

“A little.” You bite back a giggle at the deadpan scowl that earns you. “I’m kidding! Kind of. It’s not like you’ve told me a lot about how you grew up and all that. And I don’t really care, not for now at least, but I figured it’s better to ask.”

“How considerate of you, sweetie,” he hums sarcastically. His eyes shift over to observe the pumpkin you’ve set him in front of, head tilting ever so slightly in thought. “While I didn’t carve one when I was young, I’ll admit that after seeing them over the years, I grew curious. Luke and Keiran insisted on having a contest one year, so I decided to join.”

Now that, you believe. Sylus could also be remarkably lenient with the twins at times. You’re still not exactly sure of what kind of relationship they all have, but it’s certainly cute at times. You can just imagine the boys begging Sylus to join them and him giving in begrudgingly.

“Good,” you chirp, snatching up a marker from the table, “Cause I really want to win this, so I’ll take all the help I can get.”

“Wouldn’t it be considered cheating if you were to submit a pumpkin carved by someone else?” Sylus still follows suit, picking his own marker and setting to work. “What is the prize you so desperately want? You are aware I could just buy it for you myself?”

“One, no, it’s not cheating. They said it could be a family submission, so for all intents and purposes, you’re my family in this.” You try really hard to ignore the look Sylus gives you at that, your cheeks already tinging a soft pink. You’re quick to move on before he can tease you, “Two, the prize is a set of tickets to that new movie that’s coming out on Halloween. You know, the one I’ve been telling you about. And three, it’s not as fun if I don’t earn it!”

“You know, sweetie, there are other ways you could earn-”

“Shush!” You cut him off, ears burning the same color red as his eyes. “Just start carving!”

Sylus chuckles, but obliges. The two of you fall into comfortable conversation as you design and carve, talking about work and the twins and all the plans you have for the season. For the most part, Sylus just listens. Your excitement is nearly tangible as you talk, lighting up the room more than any light could. And it’s quite entertaining to watch you gesture so animatedly as if you’re not holding a knife in your hands. 

You eventually focus in, though, falling into the groove of carving out your design. It’s been too long since you’ve done this, you think to yourself, but it’s just as fun as you remember. And getting to look over and see Sylus working with the same level of dedication he gives everything else? Well, you’re not sure a more perfect night exists.

“Aaaaand…” You draw back, surveying you work with narrowed eyes, before clapping your hands together. “Done!”

Sylus, who had been done for a while, raises a brow. He subtly leans over, eyes scanning your carving. Biting your lip, you watch, delight warming your chest when you catch the flicker of surprise pass through his eyes.

“Is that…Mephisto?”

“Yes! Isn’t he so cute?” You twist the pumpkin so he can see it more clearly. While it’s maybe a little rough around the edges, “I think I captured his essence pretty well.”

Sylus leans back, lips twitching with a suppressed smile, “It certainly is…accurate to his character.”

“I’ll take it! What did you carve?” You jump from your chair and drape yourself over his shoulder. And the sight in front of you makes your jaw drop. Because of course this is Sylus, and of course Sylus is good at practically everything he does. “Is that a wanderer? It looks so accurate!”

“It seemed to suit the theme.” He shrugs as if it’s nothing, though a tiny smile twitches at the corner of his lips, betraying his satisfaction with your reaction. “So which will you submit to your little work contest?”

“I don’t know,” you hum, resting your chin on his head. 

Sylus huffs, reaching up to squeeze one of your arms, glancing up at you with a smug look, “Perhaps you can think about it over a movie, hm? We still have much of the night left, afterall, and I did move around my schedule for you.”

Something warm flutters in your chest, and you nod, “Yah, I’d like that.”

“Perfect. Then, shall I grab some wine?”

“I’ll grab the blankets!”

---

Xavier

“What are we doing again?”

“We’re carving pumpkins!” You cheer excitedly, dashing back into the room with the pack of carving knives you bought. “You said you’ve never done it right? It’s basically a right of passage!”

Xavier sits perched on your couch. Two large pumpkins rest on the coffee table in front of him, on top of a rather large tarp. There’s no way you’re getting orange stains on your rug after all, but getting messy is half the fun. You drop down onto the couch beside him, biting your lip to hold back some of your giddiness.

“And what do we do with them once they’re carved?” Xavier asks, peering down at his pumpkin as if it might attack him suddenly, like some kind of Wanderer.

“We put them outside your front door, so everyone can see.”

“Why?”

You shrug, using your teeth to break through the packaging of the carving set (though you definitely have scissors somewhere). Xavier watches you carefully, wariness shifting from the pumpkin to your feral techniques. You just shoot him an unabashed grin when you successfully get it open.

“I think people used to do it to scare away bad spirits. Now it’s just a part of the season.” You carefully lay out all the tools, going through a mental checklist of everything you need. “We carve pumpkins, bake the seeds, and watch scary movies.”

The mention of snacks makes Xavier perk up. A glint of curiosity brightens his sleepy, blue eyes. “Baked seeds? Like the ones sold in the stores?”

“Yah, but way better,” you hum, “We can season them however we like! I like to make them how my Grandma used to, but we can also try some other seasonings if you want?”

“I’ll rely on your expertise,” the hunter murmurs with a small, teasing smile, “You seem to be quite the master of this season.”

Your cheeks flush a faint pink. You do love this time of year. You always have. There’s something about the chill in the air, the scent of pumpkin spice drifting from the cafes, the perfect crunch of the leaves under your boots. All of it just makes your heart feel so…happy.

And now you get to share it with your favorite person. Your partner. Your star.

How could you not love that?

“Okay, first things first, we draw our designs.” You snatch a sharpie from your pile of tools and hold it out to him.

Xavier takes the pen, looking almost hesitant, “And it’s meant to resemble a face, correct?”

“It can be whatever you want,” you tell him, “Most people try to do scary faces or silly ones, but I’ve also seen plenty of tombstones and moons, stuff like that. That’s the fun part, it’s all up to you.”

“I guess I’ll just have to use my imagination then,” he murmurs, as if the concept is completely foreign. Which, honestly, given his straightforward tendencies, wouldn’t be surprising to you.

“Exactly.” You lean over and nudge your shoulder against his playfully. “Just have fun, Xav. We don’t even have to put them outside if you think your pumpkin will get bullied. This is just for us.”

Xavier huffs out a faint laugh, some of the tension finally slipping from his shoulders. “One might think you’re doubting my artistic capabilities.”

“Xavier, I once turned in some paperwork that you doodled on and Captain Jenna asked if my nephew was visiting.”

You watch with a rather delighted smile as his ears go positively red, his eyes looking everywhere but you as he tries to move right past your truthful jab, “Shall we begin, then?”

Of course. You don’t even hesitate in snatching up your own marker, if only to give him a moment of peace, even though you really want to tease him further. Cradling your pumpkin in your lap, you start by mapping out a classic jack-o-lantern face. You don’t want to do anything too fancy and actually make him feel bad. This isn’t about making the best one, after all, it’s about doing it together. And the classics are classics for a reason, anyways.

Every so often, you steal a glance at the man beside you. There’s something divinely sweet about the moment, the contented breath in the room, the slight shuffle of your sweaters brushing against each other every so often. 

It almost surprises you how much Xavier seems to get into it. His brow furrows ever so slightly, eyes taking on that serious gleam they only get when he’s focusing. The sleeves of his sweater bunch around his elbows cutely, like a little kid trying to stay clean, though you can already spot a small fleck of orange on his cheek.

How adorable…

“Shouldn’t you be more focused on your work?” Eyes never leaving his pumpkin, a small smile tilts the corner of Xavier’s lips, his ears still a pretty shade of pink. Embarrassed by your staring but confident enough to tease you back a little now.

“Hmmm, but it’s so fun to watch you,” you tease back, tone dripping with something soft, “And you have something on your cheek, by the way.”

Xavier blinks, eyes widening a fraction. He quickly swipes at his cheek - the wrong cheek - and glances at you expectantly, to which you shake your head.

“Here, let me-” The hunter freezes when you lean across the couch, reaching toward his face. You don’t miss the way his breath falters, or how his skin flushes even darker when your thumb brushes against his cheek. Drawing back, you give him an amused grin, “All gone. Just a little pumpkin. Now, back to carving, mister.”

Your grin only grows wider when he grumbles and turns back to his pumpkin, as if ducking his head can hide his blush from you. For someone who’s so impassive most of the time, he’s so easy to fluster when it’s just the two of you. Like a cute little bunny that doesn’t want to admit how cute it is.

Biting back a giggle, you turn back to finish your own carving.

It doesn’t take long for you both to finish, since neither of you went with particularly complex designs. You went with a spooky face, sharp teeth, horns, the works. And you’re definitely proud of how sinister it looks.

Xavier’s also turns out much better than you were expecting, all his experience with swords and daggers really paying off in a strange way. It’s adorable really. You can’t help but smile when he turns his pumpkin to reveal a small star with a smiley face on it. It’s a little wobbly and uneven, but still absolutely cute.

“That looks great, Xav! He’s so cute!” You gush, tracing the outline. “I’m impressed.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, unable to hide his own glow of pride, “So now what do we do?”

“Noooow…we bake the seeds!”

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I'm incapable of writing short blurbs apparently, which is really annoying. Sylus' was my favorite though. Best spooky boy.