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anakinstwinklebunny · 5 months ago

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ANAKIN SKYWALKER HEADCANONS

Author's note: this may be.. different

Anakin Skywalker who has an incredible long-term memory but an awful short-term memory. He is the type to remember something from years ago in painstaking detail—like the exact color of your dress the first time he saw you or a specific phrase you once said that made him laugh—but completely forget why he walked into a room five seconds ago.

He’d be so frustrated with himself, too:

«I can rebuild an entire podracer from memory, but I can’t remember where I put my damn lightsaber five minutes ago!»

If you would just tease him about it, his lips would twist into a pout;

“Well, at least I remembered the anniversary of our first kiss.” (Cue him smugly crossing his arms while you roll your eyes.)

Anakin Skywalker who has a diary that he writes in with a glittery gel pen;

He’d sit cross-legged on his bed in the quarters, hunched over the journal with the sparkly pen in hand, writing furiously:

«Mission Log: Obi-Wan still doesn’t get it. He says I’m reckless, but who saved his ass again today? Oh, right, me. Also, y/n smiled at me when I said goodbye, and I’m not saying it means anything, but maybe it does. Anyway, I need a new purple pen—this one’s running out of glitter ink.»

Anakin Skywalker's diary would be filled with doodles of podracers, little hearts around your name, and the occasional rant about sand;

Humming softly, he bent over the page, scrawling your name in his bold, messy handwriting. He frowned, mumbling under his breath about his uneven letters before shrugging it off. Next to your name, he started to doodle little hearts, as if each colorful heart was the show of his affection. Pink, silver, gold—he used every glittery color he had, filling the margin with love-struck decorations.

He paused, tapping the pen against his lips thoughtfully before scribbling, «You’re my favorite everything», right under your name. The ink shimmered in the dim light, catching his eye in a way that made him grin.

He felt ridiculous, like some love-struck teenager, but he didn’t care. This was for you, even if you’d never see it. A quiet, glittery tribute to the person who made the galaxy feel a little less dark.

A soft knock startled him, and his head snapped up, his heart skipping when your voice came through the door.

“Anakin? You still awake?”

Scrambling, he slapped the diary shut and stuffed it under his pillow, cheeks burning as he tried to change his expression into something casual. “Uh, yeah! Just… meditating!”

When the door slid open and you stepped in, his breath hitched. You were in your sleepwear, hair slightly tousled, and that soft smile on your face made him melt. You tilted your head, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Meditating, huh? With glitter on your fingers?”

He looked down, cursing under his breath at the sparkling pink smudge across his thumb. “Uh… yeah, it’s a new technique.”

Anakin Skywalker who has a sketchbook, where he draws A LOT of things. Podraces, you, ships, speeders, random people on the street

Anakin Skywalker who once brought you flowers after a mission;

He trudged through the Jedi Temple’s halls, boots barely making a sound on the polished floor as he fidgets with the bouquet in his hands. Well, bouquet was a generous term. It was more of a sorry-looking cluster of flowers, their once-vibrant petals now limp and pale, some barely clinging to their stems. A petal fluttered to the ground just as he took another step, and he stopped mid-step to glare at it, like he could will it back into place.

He groaned softly, running a hand through his messy curls, smearing a streak of dirt across his cheek. This had seemed like a good idea earlier. Why does everything he does fall apart before it even gets to you? His pout deepened as he plucked out the most shriveled flower, tossing it to the side with a defeated sigh.

Finally, he reached your chambers. Standing outside the door, he took a deep breath, smoothing down his tunic with his free hand and rearranging the flowers one last time. Maybe if he held them at just the right angle, you wouldn’t notice the sorry state they were in.

The door slid open, and there you were, rubbing sleep from your eyes, your expression softening the second you saw him.

“Ani?” you murmured, stepping aside to let him in.

His voice was unusually sheepish as he held out the flowers, eyes darting everywhere but your face.

“I, uh… I picked these for you. On my mission. But, um… they didn’t exactly survive the wait.”

You looked down at the wilted bouquet in his calloused hands, a few petals already scattered on the floor at his boots.

“They’re perfect,” you said softly, reaching for the flowers.

He blinked, pout fading into something almost hopeful. “You don’t have to say that. They look terrible—”

You cut him off with a kiss, lips pressing to his tenderly, hands resting on his chest. He stiffened for half a second before melting into you, his arms wrapping around your waist, the bouquet forgotten as it dangled by his side.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” you whispered against his lips, kissing him again for good measure.

He huffed, but his cheeks were pink, his free hand gently stroking your back. “I just… wanted you to know I was thinking about you. Even while I was out there. I saw them and thought you’d like them.”

“I love them,” you assured him, cradling his face in your hands, thumbs brushing over the dirt smudges on his cheek. “And I love you for bringing them to me, even if it meant walking through the Temple like this in the middle of the night.”

Anakin Skywalker who sneaked out with you to lower levels of coruscant;

As you passed by a flower stall, the vibrant colors caught his attention. He paused, eyes scanning the rows of flowers, before reaching out and plucking two purple blooms—one light lavender, the other a deep, rich violet.

“Perfect,” he murmured to himself, flashing you a smile as he walked back to you, holding the flowers gently.

“Here,” he tucked the lighter lavender flower behind your ear. Fingers lingered on your skin just for a moment, a little touch, a little enough to make your heart skip a beat. You giggled softly, cheeks flushing.

He grinned mischievously, then slid the darker flower into the breast pocket of his jacket. "For me," voice low, teasing.

You stared at him, smile widening as the warmth spread through you. “Now, that’s a perfect match,” you whispered, giggling.

“Mm-hmm,” the grin on his face stretched even wider. You could see the mischief dancing in his eyes, the way his lips curved up as if to say, «this is my favorite moment ever»

“Got it,” you said with a laugh, pressing your hands together like you were taking a picture in the air.

Anakin's face softened for a moment, and then a gleam sparkled in his eyes. “Wait, wait,” he said, holding his hands in front of him like he was about to snap a photo, just like you did. He mimicked your pose, grinning widely “Got it,” he repeated with a smirk.

Anakin Skywalker who as a young baby used to give you flowers from Jedi temple garden;

“This is for you!” he’d chirp, holding the flower up as if it were the most precious gift in the galaxy.

You’d kneel down to his level, heart melting into a puddle at how shyly he’d avert his gaze, cheeks tinged pink. “For me? It’s beautiful, Ani.”

His smile widened, bright enough to rival with the Coruscant sun. “I thought it’d look pretty on you,” he’d mumble before stepping closer, his small fingers fumbling to tuck it behind your ear.

Affection swelled in your chest as his fingers brushed against your skin, before he’d pull back to inspect his handiwork with thoughtful expression. “There,” he’d declare softly, looking utterly pleased with himself.

Your little arms would wrap tightly around his neck, voice muffled against his shoulder. “Thank you, Ani. You’re my favorite Jedi, you know that?”

“You’re my favorite everything.”

Anakin Skywalker who would eat most of your food he'd find in your chambers

Anakin Skywalker who smells like vanilla

Anakin Skywalker who loves when you stroke his back in the morning while he's still sleepy and just nuzzling to his pillow;

Soft, golden glow of the sunrise gently filtered through the curtains in your chambers , casting a gentle illumination across the side of the room. Anakin laid sprawled across the bed, body entangled in sheets. His breathing was slow and steady, tousled curls sticking to his forehead in a mix of shadows cast by the night and the faint morning light. You, propped up on one arm, tenderly stroked his back, fingertips gliding over his skin while time to time pressing gentle kisses to his bare shoulder. The sensation stirred his body slightly, and he shifted beneath your touch, acting like a contented puppy who curled up to enjoy the affection.

his words laced with a lazy, sleepy drawl. "Don’t stop," he murmured, a soft groan escaping his lips with his eyes remaining closed. With a gentle smile, you continued your gentle caresses, tracing small circles across his back, watching him shift and sigh while his muscles relaxed under your touch.

But as you took your hand away to change your position, he stirred once more, rolling onto his side to face you. His eyes were half-lidded and clouded with the remnants of sleep, a soft, pleading expression in his tone. "C'mon... more... please," his hand reaching out towards you, pulling you closer, fingers grazing along the sheets. You let out a soft chuckle, but without hesitation, drew closer to him and your hand shot out to find itself in his curls. With delicate fingers, you ran them through the soft strands, lightly massaging his scalp, causing a small hitch in his breath.

Anakin Skywalker who read tons of books, watched a lot of videos about gardening all to make you proud that he could seed tulips and make them grow

Anakin Skywalker who secretly sips on your coffee, always muttering that «sharing is caring»

Anakin Skywalker who makes «your mom» jokes

Anakin Skywalker who constantly hacks their stats in every video game he plays

Anakin Skywalker who uses the word «fuck» like a comma.

Anakin Skywalker who definitely has a roblox account and even though he's a softie, he bullies some kids there;

He logs in with the most ridiculous username, something like DarthSlayer69, and his avatar is over-the-top—dark cape, glowing red eyes, and a lightsaber accessory. He’s spent way too much time customizing it because, of course, he has to look intimidating.

And then? He enters some innocent game like Adopt Me! or Brookhaven and immediately starts causing mayhem.

"Get off my property, kid," he types in the chat, standing in front of a house he didn’t even buy.

In Tower of Hell, he’d purposely push people off platforms, then type: "Too slow. Guess you weren’t strong enough."

If anyone dared to clap back, he’d go full into fighting back; "Do you know who I am? I’ve fought in wars. You’re just a noob with bad Wi-Fi."

When you walk into the room while he’s cackling at his antics, you took one look at the screen, and roll your eyes.

"Anakin, are you bullying children again?"

"No, angel, I’m teaching them a valuable lesson." He'd say too smugly

Anakin Skywalker who uses two-in-one shampoo and conditioner yet still has the softest hair ever, which obviously makes you mad because you have to use tons of products to make your hair look decent.

Anakin Skywalker who fixes your lightsaber too often;

Anakin leaned back against the workbench, arms crossed over his chest, as he watched you sheepishly place your lightsaber in front of him. His expression was equal parts of amused and exasperated

"Again?" he drawled, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze as you fiddled with the hem of your tunic. "It... broke."

"It broke," he repeated, tone dripping with mock disbelief. He picked up the hilt, turning it over in his hands like inspecting some troublesome droid. "No, sweetheart, you broke it. What did you do this time? Smash it against a rock? Use it to pry open a door?"

"I didn’t!" you protested, immediately crossing your arms in self-defense. "I was fighting, and—"

"And you lost control," he finished for you, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You know, lightsabers are meant for precision. Not..." He gestured vaguely, as if mimicking you wildly flailing the weapon around.

Your face flushed at that, and you jabbed a finger at him. "Are you going to fix it or just stand there and tease me all day, Master Skywalker?"

At the sound of his full title, he grinned, as if it alone was enough to satisfy his ego. Setting the hilt down on the bench, he reached for his tools. "Oh, I’ll fix it. Like I always do. But you know..." He shot you a sly glance. Uh, oh.."If you keep this up, I’m going to start charging you."

"Charging me?" You blinked, incredulous. "With what? We don’t even use credits in the Order!"

He leaned in closer, smirk deepening. "Not credits, sweetheart. Favors." his eyes roamed down and up your body

Your stomach did a little flip "Favors?"

He nodded, picking up a small tool and starting to carefully disassemble the damaged saber. "Mm-hmm. Maybe you take over my chores for a week. Or you could cook dinner for once instead of ordering ration packs. Or..." He set the tool down and leaned in again, voice dropping to a near-whisper, eyes darting down to your lips. "You could just kiss me every time you break it."

you scoffed "That’s a ridiculous system," you muttered, but you didn’t pull away when he leaned even closer

"Is it?" he murmured, breath warm against your skin. "Seems fair to me. I put in the work, and I get a little reward."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. "Fine," you relented, leaning in to close the distance between you. Your lips brushed against his in a soft, quick peck, and you felt him smile against you.

When you finally pulled back, he looked far too pleased with himself.

"See?" tone smug. "Much better payment than credits."

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celestialspark · 6 months ago

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Look at this!! It's so beautiful! Chama is WONDERFUL at pixel art!

Their compositions are always so nice and there are so many details ♡

I immediately fell in love with how they portrayed Men De and An Ju in the sketch phase 🥰 Thank you so so much! ✨️

Pixel wallpaper comm for @celestialspark ! (IM SO SORRY I TAGGED THE WRONG PERSON TT-TT)

Once again, thank you for the opportunity~ i had so much fun doing this!! <3

#Pages and Petals #ship: Pages and Petals #art by op #commissions #aaah thank you so much Chama!!#it's always such a pleasure!#and this is such a nice holiday gift ♡♡#camamah

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shaiyasstuff · 2 months ago

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stay | sylus

synopsis : You tried to forget him. But love doesn’t forget. It lingers in doorways and unsent goodbyes—until running feels safer than staying.

content : some other alternate reality, best friend’s brother trope

word count : 7k

now playing : paris in the rain - lauv

You smiled to yourself, barely, the corners of your lips curling as the knife tapped rhythmically against the cutting board.

The sound was steady, soothing—just beneath the surface of Shaiya’s voice as she launched into another retelling of her morning. Something about the god awful traffic.

Something about how her brother had the audacity to drop her off late. Again.

Her brother.

Sylus.

The name alone was enough to loosen the air in your lungs.

Tall, quiet, eyes like burning coals beneath a winter sky. That strange silver hair that caught sunlight like it was spun from frost.

Too beautiful for his own good.

Your fingers faltered for half a second. Just half. Heat bloomed across your cheeks like petals unfolding at dawn, and you bowed your head, willing the blush to pass as you resumed cutting.

“You good?” Shaiya called, amused. “You look like a cherry blossom sneezed on your face.”

You huffed a laugh. “That’s rude.”

The door chimed—a soft jingle that pulled you back into motion. You stepped out front with a practiced smile, greeting customers, taking orders, keeping your hands busy so your heart wouldn’t wander too far.

Behind you, Shaiya leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, her ponytail falling loose with the humidity. “Thank god you’re here,” she said, voice warm with truth. “I’d be six feet under in espresso by now.”

You laughed, tossing a dish towel over your shoulder. “What kind of best friend would I be if I let you go down with the coffee ship?”

“Twelve years of friendship,” she declared dramatically, pouring a latte. “Still worth it.”

Shaiya’s café sat nestled in a quiet curve of the downtown street, ivy creeping over its brick exterior like an old secret.

You’d stepped in to help right after graduation—just a temporary thing, you told yourself.

Until the next door opened.

Until you figured things out.

Three years later, and you were still here. Same apron. Same view out the window. Same quiet life, small and steady and full of tiny comforts.

It wasn’t extraordinary.

But it was enough.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Because you held a secret.

Not the kind that could be confessed in passing or laughed away over coffee.

No, this one was older—worn soft at the edges from being held too tightly. A quiet ache you carried like a pressed flower between the pages of your life.

It had lived there for years. Tucked beneath every stolen glance. Every heartbeat that stuttered when he entered the room. Every time his name passed through Shaiya’s lips like it meant nothing—when to you, it meant everything.

You had feelings for Sylus.

And that truth, as fragile as it was, felt too dangerous to speak. Because if it ever left your chest, it might ruin the only thing you had—this life, this café, this careful closeness you shared with the sister of the boy you loved.

So you buried it.

Deep beneath laughter and routine.

And told yourself it was enough.

—•

“Why should we need your permission to date your brother?”

“Yeah, screw off before I beat you up!”

Your heart hammered in your chest, wild and thunderous, as you stepped forward instinctively, placing yourself between Shaiya and the group of girls closing in.

Their bats gleamed under the afternoon sun, cheap wood and bad intentions.

Shaiya scoffed behind you, utterly unfazed. “I have standards, thank you. No way I’d let my brother date girls who smell like expired perfume and desperation.”

“Shaiya,” you hissed under your breath, throwing a hand back to keep her behind you. “Stop.”

One of the girls snarled and raised her bat. Your breath hitched. You shut your eyes, bracing yourself.

And then—

“Walk away before I make you regret it.”

That voice.

Low. Gritted. Cold as steel dragged across gravel.

Your eyes flew open.

There he stood.

Sylus.

A wall between you and the world, sleeves rolled, expression carved from stone.

Back turned to you like a shield.

That was when you had realised, you were in love with him.

“Y/N.”

Shaiya’s voice stirred you from your thoughts, soft but amused, pulling you back to the present like a thread tugged gently through fabric.

You turned, blinking as if waking from a dream.

“Yeah?”

She tilted her head, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “You’ve been staring at my brother for a while.”

Heat rose unbidden to your cheeks. You started to speak—some excuse, some denial—but she was already following your gaze.

Sylus stood just beyond the counter, sleeves still rolled, wiping his hands with a towel. His expression unreadable as always, but there was a quiet in him today. A stillness, like the hush of the sky before the first snow.

Shaiya chuckled softly. “He can be quite gentle sometimes, right?”

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… he can.”

But what you didn’t say hung heavily in the space between you.

He’s gentle when no one’s looking.

Gentle in the way he hands you your favorite mug without asking.

Gentle in the silence he keeps so you don’t have to explain your sadness.

Gentle in a world that rarely offers you kindness.

You looked away, afraid she might see too much.

And perhaps she already had.

“Look at you,” Shaiya drawled behind you, her tone sing-song and merciless. “Always avoiding him. Do you like him or something?”

You nearly tripped over your own feet as you spun around, heart lurching. “W–What? No way! He’s not even my type!”

She only laughed, loud and unbothered, slipping beside you as if she hadn’t just tossed a grenade into your carefully maintained composure.

“Oh? Then what is your type, hmm? Tell me, I’ll play matchmaker. I know people.”

You said nothing. Couldn’t.

Your blush spoke louder than any words could manage, burning across your cheeks like dawn creeping over a horizon.

And still—your eyes betrayed you.

They flicked toward Sylus, where he stood in the soft golden wash of closing hour, wiping down tables, sleeves pushed up, silver hair catching the fading light.

How could anyone not like him?

The street outside had grown quiet. The kind of quiet that comes after a long day, when even the city holds its breath.

Shaiya stepped out, tugging her coat tighter as she made her way to the waiting car.

“She’s not coming?” Sylus asked, eyes on the rearview mirror, though his tone barely gave him away.

Shaiya smirked, arching a brow as she slid into the passenger seat. “You already know the answer. Shouldn’t you be used to it by now?”

He grunted, low and dismissive. “Shut up.”

The engine hummed to life. The car pulled away.

And from the second-story window, you watched them go—hands pressed lightly to the glass, breath fogging the pane.

The lights of the café flickered out behind you, the night folding in like a sigh.

“I have someone I like.”

Even now, the words echo—soft but sharp, like a paper cut across memory. He had said it so casually, as if it meant nothing, as if he hadn’t just split your world in two.

It was during your school days. Shaiya had teased him, poked at his ever-serious facade like she always did, and he’d let the words slip without looking up.

Your heart had leapt in that moment. Both soaring and sinking.

Maybe… maybe it was you.

But maybe—more likely—it would never be.

You sighed, the weight of the past settling over your shoulders as you closed the book in your lap. Its spine creaked softly in protest, like even it didn’t want the chapter to end.

A small mewl cut through the silence.

You looked down to see Lucifer—your cat—padding toward you, his ruby eyes curious, head tilted just so.

You smiled, leaning down to scoop him into your arms. His body was warm against your chest, soft and alive.

“Oh, Lucifer,” you whispered, voice barely more than a breath, “what am I gonna do?”

He blinked at you slowly. Then let out a plaintive little meow, as if he understood every syllable of your sorrow.

That night, you fell asleep curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, Lucifer pressed at your feet like a silent guardian.

And in your dreams, you stood in the rain. Your voice trembled, but you said it anyway.

“I like you.”

For once, he looked back. And for once, he didn’t walk away.

—•

The café smelled of rain and something sweet—vanilla, maybe, or the promise of a slower morning.

You arrived earlier than usual, unlocking the doors just as the first light stretched pale fingers across the street.

Clouds hung low, the world still damp from last night’s drizzle, the sky a soft gray that made everything feel softer, quieter.

The bell above the door chimed, and in walked Shaiya—hood up, sleeves too long, a coffee cup clutched between her hands like a lifeline.

“You’re early,” she said, voice half-yawn, half-surprise.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you murmured, smoothing your apron as you tied it on.

She hummed, setting her cup down and stretching her arms overhead. “Must be the weather,” she said, “feels like the world’s still dreaming.”

You didn’t answer. You were still dreaming, in a way.

Of a boy with silver hair and tired eyes.

Of a voice that once said, I have someone I like.

Of a you who was brave enough to ask who.

The machines whirred to life beneath Shaiya’s hands, the café waking up with its usual rhythm.

You moved through the motions without thinking, the warmth of routine grounding you, though your mind wandered far from the tile floor and polished cups.

“You know,” Shaiya said as she handed you a mug, “sometimes I wish he came by more often.”

You blinked. “Who?”

She gave you a playful look. “Sylus. My brother. You two used to talk more when we were younger, right? I always thought it was nice.”

Your fingers tightened around the ceramic.

She didn’t notice—just smiled, breezy and warm. “He acts cold, but he listens, you know? Always ends up remembering things you didn’t think he would.”

You nodded wordlessly.

Then Shaiya laughed.

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to set you up or anything. He’s too grumpy for that. Still… I think he could use someone who softens him a little.”

Your heart stuttered.

But you said nothing, just took the mug to the window seat like she asked.

Outside, the rain had stopped. The sky remained gray, but there was a certain kind of stillness in the morning light that made everything feel possible.

Even if it wasn’t.

The morning unraveled slowly, like yarn slipping from loose fingers.

You refilled sugar jars. Wiped down windows. Let the hush of early hours settle into your bones like a familiar lullaby.

Outside, the street was quiet—just the occasional passing car, the rustle of trees shaking off last night’s rain.

Shaiya worked beside you, sleeves rolled, hair pinned in that messy way she always insisted was intentional. She hummed under her breath, some nameless tune, soft and off-key.

Every now and then, she’d bump her shoulder into yours, and you’d smile like everything inside you wasn’t carefully folded and hidden.

“I wonder what it’d be like to live somewhere else,” she mused suddenly, hands deep in a bag of beans. “Not forever. Just… to try. Big city. Rooftop bars. Men in suits who aren’t chronically sleep-deprived.”

You laughed under your breath. “Sounds dangerous.”

She grinned. “Sounds alive.”

You didn’t respond. Because your version of alive wasn’t neon lights and unfamiliar sidewalks—it was something smaller. Simpler.

It was a cup placed silently beside you, before you even asked.

It was a glance across a quiet room.

It was a boy who rarely spoke, but always seemed to understand.

“I think he’d visit,” she added, almost absentmindedly. “If I ever left. Sylus, I mean. He acts like he wouldn’t, but he would. He always shows up eventually.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

Eventually.

The word clung to you like steam on glass.

Somewhere behind the counter, the coffee dripped slow and steady into the pot.

The smell was warm, bitter, comforting.

And time passed, as it always does.

Quietly.

Until something changed.

The hours slipped by, unnoticed.

Midday brought a flutter of customers, laughter echoing off the café walls, the hum of conversation filling the empty spaces between your thoughts.

Shaiya handled the register, you manned the bar—falling into rhythm, into habit, into the gentle blur of familiarity.

By the time the sky began to dim, the scent of rain was already in the air—earthy, electric. Shaiya checked the weather app and groaned.

“Looks like we’re getting another round,” she muttered, shrugging on her coat. “I texted Sylus. He’s picking me up again.”

You nodded, wrapping up the last few dishes. The café was quiet now. Nearly closed.

“Need a ride?” she asked over her shoulder, already halfway out the door.

You shook your head, too quickly. “It’s fine. I’ve got my umbrella.”

She didn’t press. Just smiled and left with the soft jingle of the door behind her.

From the window, you watched her climb into his car—Sylus in the driver’s seat, leaned slightly back, hand resting on the wheel like it belonged there.

The rain came quickly.

A sudden hush, then the soft patter against rooftops, then more—a steady rhythm that blurred streetlights into halos and soaked the world in silver.

You stepped outside, umbrella opening with a reluctant click. The chill clung to your clothes, and the air smelled like memory.

You walked. Slow. Head low. Feet careful on the slick pavement.

And your thoughts—of course—drifted back to him.

To the way he never looked surprised to see you, even when he should’ve been.

To the way he never said much, but when he did, you listened.

To the space he occupied in your chest without even trying.

Maybe it was stupid, still hoping. Still thinking of him when he likely thought of everything else but you.

You sighed.

Then—headlights.

A soft purr of an engine drawing closer. Slowing.

Sylus’ car pulled up beside you, its lights casting long shadows across the rain-soaked road. The window rolled down.

Shaiya leaned across from the passenger seat, grinning through the drizzle. “What did I say about walking home like a tragic novel character?”

You blinked, startled. “I— I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not,” she cut in. “Get in, dummy. Before you start narrating your heartbreak to the clouds.”

Her tone was light, teasing. She didn’t know. She never knew.

The passenger door opened—Sylus had leaned across silently, unbuckling her seatbelt to make space. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes were on you. Unmoving. Waiting.

Rain slid down your umbrella, pooling at your feet.

And before you could stop yourself, your hand moved.

The door creaked open.

You got in.

The door closed.

And for the first time in a long time, you were three people in a car—with one secret pressing against your ribs like it wanted out.

Your gaze wandered, following the sway of rain across the windows, the blur of passing streetlights painting golden streaks over the glass. Then it caught—something small, familiar.

Hanging from the rearview mirror was a charm—woven thread, pale blue and white, worn slightly at the edges from time and touch.

Your breath caught before your voice did.

“I always wondered where it went,” you murmured, leaning forward slightly. “Why is it here?”

Shaiya turned in her seat, grinning as she glanced between you and the charm. “Because my emotionally constipated brother’s car needed more colour,” she said sweetly.

You blinked, startled by the honesty and the ease of it.

Sylus reached over without a word and pinched her cheek, earning a dramatic yelp. “Ow! Hey! I was complimenting your character development!”

“You weren’t,” he said, low.

You laughed—quiet and real, the sound catching you off guard more than them.

And for a moment, everything felt suspended. Still.

You didn’t see it—but in the rearview mirror, his gaze never left you. Not even for a second.

Not as your laugh faded into silence.

Not as you leaned back again, hugging your arms to your chest.

Not even when the charm swayed gently with the motion of the car—between you both, like a secret too old to speak.

The drive wore on under a blanket of rain, the world outside blurred into watercolors—streetlights smearing gold across windows, puddles blooming across the road in soft ripples.

Shaiya’s voice, once a constant stream of stories and laughter, had faded into a gentle hum. You glanced forward.

Her head had lolled slightly against the window, breath steady, hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket.

The rhythm of the rain had lulled her into sleep, and she looked younger like this—softer, peaceful in a way you rarely saw.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did Sylus.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was full—of things neither of you dared to say.

He didn’t look at you, eyes fixed on the road, one hand resting on the wheel, the other relaxed near the gearshift.

You sat in the back, still, the sound of rain once again filling the space between you and him.

The charm swung faintly from the mirror—your charm. The one you gave Shaiya years ago, when you were both too young to know what permanence meant.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t look back.

Just reached out and adjusted the rearview mirror.

His eyes met yours.

For a moment, nothing existed beyond that small reflection. Just you, and him, and the impossible weight of everything you never said.

Then—

“You still make those?” he asked, voice low and rough from disuse.

You blinked. “Huh?”

“The charms,” he clarified. “You used to give them to everyone. Shaiya… your classmates. You stopped.”

You hadn’t realized he remembered. Or noticed at all.

“I don’t know,” you said softly. “I guess I didn’t feel like they worked.”

A pause.

“Yours did,” he said, and looked away too quickly, like it hadn’t meant anything at all.

Your heart beat too loudly in your chest.

The rain continued to fall, and the car sat still in the quiet streetlight haze.

Outside, the world was wet and golden and lonely.

Inside, you could barely breathe.

The car slowed to a stop in front of your apartment building, tires humming against the wet road. You reached for the handle, but paused, your gaze slipping once more to Shaiya.

She had fallen asleep not long after the roads grew quiet. Her head rested against the window, her breath fogging the glass in gentle bursts.

In sleep, she looked small again.

Softer. You wondered if she was dreaming of home.

You moved carefully, not wanting to wake her, fingers brushing over the door latch—

“I’ll walk you,” Sylus said.

You froze, glancing toward the front. His voice was calm, low, like always—but there was a firmness in it, an edge of something unreadable.

You hesitated. “It’s fine, really. I’m used to—”

“I’ll walk you,” he repeated. No space left for argument.

So you nodded.

Outside, the wind met you first—cool and damp, threading its way through the folds of your coat.

You opened your umbrella with a soft click, the rain meeting the canvas with a hush like whispers.

He didn’t open one of his own. Just stepped beside you, hands in the pockets of his dark coat, silver hair catching droplets like a halo.

You walked side by side beneath the streetlights, the silence between you stretching long and delicate.

Each footstep was a quiet echo, each breath shared in the fragile space beneath the umbrella.

It should have been easy.

It wasn’t.

Your chest felt tight. Like something was blooming inside you, too wild to hold, too old to ignore.

The charm still lingered in your mind—the one you gave Shaiya so long ago, now hanging from his rearview mirror like a memory refusing to fade.

He kept it.

You didn’t want to think about what that meant.

Didn’t want to let your heart believe.

You glanced at him, just once. The side of his face was quiet in the dark, sharp in its stillness. His eyes fixed ahead, unreadable. Distant.

Like always.

And then, like a ghost, the voice of memory stirred.

“I just don’t want anyone to steal my brother from me.”

Shaiya had said it once, back in school. Half-pouting, half-serious, when the two of you sat eating cheap snacks behind the gym.

The sun had been warm that day, and you’d laughed at her dramatic tone.

You remembered your response.

A quiet vow, almost silly back then.

“I won’t.”

You never meant to fall for him.

But feelings don’t ask for permission.

They just… grow.

And now—now that vow clung to you like a chain.

I can’t be the one who steals him.

You reached your door.

Fumbled with the keys, hands trembling slightly—whether from the cold or something else, you couldn’t tell.

Sylus stopped beside you, saying nothing.

The rain gathered at your heels. The light above your door flickered faintly.

You turned the key. The lock clicked open.

But you didn’t step inside.

You stayed there, fingers curled around the doorknob, eyes downcast.

“Thanks,” you murmured. “For the ride. And… for walking me.”

He didn’t respond right away. You thought that would be the end of it.

But then—

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

The words cut through the quiet like a thread snapping under tension.

You turned to him too fast, heart stumbling. “I haven’t.”

He gave you a look. One that didn’t accuse. Just… waited.

You swallowed hard. “I haven’t,” you said again, softer. “I just… didn’t want to get in the way. Of you. Of Shaiya. This life.”

A silence.

Rain fell between your words, steady and unrelenting.

“You’re not in the way,” he said, voice low. Rougher now. “You never were.”

You looked at him then. Really looked.

His eyes weren’t cold like you remembered them. They were… tired. And something else. Something quiet. Something like—

Hope?

The umbrella drooped slightly in your hand. Neither of you moved.

The rain kissed his hair, clung to his coat, shimmered along his lashes. And he was just standing there, saying the smallest things that somehow meant the most.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you confessed, barely breathing. “I think I’ve been waiting. For something. For… nothing. I don’t know.”

He didn’t offer comfort. Didn’t reach for you. Didn’t promise anything.

But he didn’t leave.

And that, somehow, was everything.

You stepped back slowly, into the warm light of your apartment, your heart pulling at the doorway like it didn’t want to part.

“Goodnight, Sylus.”

A pause.

Then, “Goodnight.”

And just before the door closed, your eyes caught his one last time.

He hadn’t moved.

Just stood there.

Looking at you like he didn’t want to look away.

The door shut behind you with a soft, final sound—

Like the closing line of a story he hadn’t finished reading.

Sylus stood there a moment too long, rain slipping down the collar of his coat, trailing along his jaw, gathering at the edge of his lashes. He barely noticed.

The cold didn’t bite.

What did—was the look in your eyes.

I didn’t want to get in the way.

You weren’t in the way.

You were the way.

He drew a breath through his nose, jaw tightening as he turned and made his way back to the car.

Inside, the heat hit him like a held breath released—warm, fogging the windows, thick with the scent of sleep.

Shaiya was still curled in the passenger seat, head tilted toward the window, breathing slow.

He slid behind the wheel, closed the door with care. Tried not to disturb the quiet.

But she stirred anyway.

“Mm,” she mumbled, her voice sleep-rough, teasing as it slipped through the dim. “You watched her the whole way to the door, didn’t you?”

Sylus didn’t answer. His hands rested on the wheel, knuckles pale beneath the soft glow of the dashboard lights.

Shaiya cracked one eye open, catching the tension in his shoulders. A slow smile tugged at her mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”

She yawned, arms stretching as she added, “I should charge you every time you look at her like she’s the only thing left keeping you tethered.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t deny it.

She studied him for a beat longer, then softened.

“She doesn’t know… does she?”

Still, silence.

“I mean, you’ve liked her for what—ten years? Since that day she tripped and dropped her lunch in the hallway and you picked up every last grape?”

His brow twitched. “That wasn’t—”

Shaiya snorted. “Please. You’ve been quietly pining like some tragic poetic antihero since we were teenagers.”

“She’s your friend,” he said at last. “I didn’t want to cross a line.”

Shaiya turned to face him fully now, voice gentling. “She’s my best friend. And you’re my brother. I’ve watched both of you dance around this for years, and I promise—there’s no line except the one you drew yourself.”

Sylus looked out the windshield. Rain slid in ribbons across the glass.

“She already looks back,” he said, barely audible.

“Not the way you want her to,” Shaiya replied softly. “Not yet.”

His grip tightened. “I don’t know what she feels.”

“Then ask,” she said simply. “Show her something real.”

He said nothing.

So she smiled, more gently this time. “You’re not going to break her, Sylus. And she’s not going to disappear just because you’re scared.”

His eyes drifted to the charm swinging faintly from the mirror—your charm. The one she’d given him quietly, without fanfare, like she was handing over something sacred.

He reached up and steadied it with two fingers.

Still holding.

Just like him.

Shaiya leaned back in her seat with a soft sigh, watching him like she had all the time in the world.

“I never told her how you’d ask about her after class,” she said, a smile in her voice. “Or how you’d sit by the door until she finished packing her things just to walk her halfway home.”

Sylus shot her a look.

She grinned. “Don’t worry, I kept your tragic romantic streak a secret. You’re welcome.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m your sister,” she replied, tone light but grounded. “I don’t need to imagine. I see you.”

There was a long pause.

“She makes you softer, you know.”

That caught him.

“You’ve always been difficult, guarded. But around her, it’s different. You laugh more. You try.”

He turned his face slightly toward her, eyes shadowed under the low light. “And if I mess it up?”

“Then at least you tried.” She gave him a small, earnest smile. “She deserves to know she’s wanted. You deserve to stop pretending she isn’t.”

Sylus looked away again, the city blurred in rain outside the windows. But his hand hadn’t left the charm.

“I just…” he began, but couldn’t finish.

Shaiya’s voice softened to a whisper.

“You wouldn’t be taking her from me, Sylus,” she said. “You’d be choosing her.”

And maybe—for the first time in all these years—he allowed himself to imagine what it would feel like…

To be chosen too.

“You’re leaving?”

The knife paused for a split second above the cutting board, but you didn’t look back.

You kept your tone light. “Yeah. You know me—I’ve always wanted to travel. See more of the world than this little corner.”

Shaiya didn’t answer right away. You heard her footsteps behind you, pacing the narrow kitchen floor like she didn’t know what to do with the space between you.

“I guess,” she said finally, but her voice was quiet. Brooding.

You tried to chuckle. “You can visit me when you’re free. I’ll send postcards. Bad ones.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then her arms wrapped tightly around your middle, hugging you from behind like she could hold you still.

“Can I bring Sylus?”

Your hands stilled. The knife froze mid-slice, blade reflecting pale lime and trembling fingertips.

You looked down. Smiled softly to the floor.

“That… probably wouldn’t be a good idea.”

She said nothing at first. Just held you a little tighter, like she knew what your voice was trying to hide.

Then, suddenly—blunt and impossible to ignore.

“But he really likes you.”

The words hit like thunder under skin.

Your hand jerked, slipping.

A sharp sting followed, the blade grazing your finger. A single drop of blood swelled and fell against the lime.

“Shit,” Shaiya hissed, rushing to grab a towel. “Wait—here, let me—”

You took it from her silently, pressing it to your finger, heart pounding in a rhythm you wished you could silence.

You didn’t look at her.

“He’s never said anything,” you murmured, voice quieter than the rain outside.

Shaiya exhaled, almost a laugh—fond, exasperated. “Of course he hasn’t. He’s Sylus. But he’s been in love with you for years, you know that, right?”

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

She leaned against the counter, watching you, her voice softening as she continued.

“You remember my birthday in high school? That girl who tried to flirt with him the entire time?”

You nodded, eyes still on the towel, watching the red fade into pink.

“I dragged her out by her extensions,” Shaiya said proudly. “Told her he wasn’t available. Not for anyone but you.”

Your head snapped up, startled. “What?”

She shrugged, sheepish now. “I’ve done it more than once, actually. Fended off half the women in town. I always thought you two would end up together. You belonged together. You still do.”

Your throat tightened.

“But…” you began, voice cracking like old glass, “you once said—you didn’t want anyone to steal him from you.”

Shaiya blinked. Then her face softened into something bittersweet.

“I was a stupid kid,” she said quietly. “I was scared of losing you both. But if I had to lose you, I’d want it to be to each other.”

You closed your eyes.

The towel in your hand was damp now. Your chest ached with everything you never let yourself feel.

He likes you.

How were you supposed to walk away now?

You stood in silence, your finger still wrapped in the towel, the lime forgotten on the board, its scent sharp in the still air.

Shaiya leaned back against the counter beside you, arms folded loosely over her chest, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Then, teasingly—like the sting of truth wrapped in silk:

“So…” she tilted her head, eyes glinting. “When did you start liking my brother?”

You blinked. Heat flooded your cheeks instantly.

“I—what?”

She grinned. “Come on. Don’t give me that. You think I never noticed? The way you go all quiet when he’s in the room? The way you look at him like he built the moon?”

You scoffed, half-horrified. “I do not—”

“You do,” she said, laughing now. “It’s kind of adorable, actually. Tragic. But adorable.”

You turned back toward the board, trying to hide behind the task, your voice barely a whisper.

“It was a long time ago.”

Shaiya’s smile faded into something softer. Waiting.

You swallowed, fingers trembling as they smoothed over the edge of the counter.

“I kept telling myself I couldn’t. That I shouldn’t.”

Shaiya was quiet for a moment, then stepped closer. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

You met her eyes. “Because you’re his sister.”

A beat.

Then she smiled again—wry and achingly fond. “God, you’re both so stupid.”

You let out a breathless laugh, eyes stinging.

“Seriously,” she continued, nudging your shoulder. “I’ve been watching you two orbit each other for years like it’s some forbidden fairy tale. Do you know how frustrating it is? I practically wrote wedding vows in my head.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile broke through the ache. “Stop.”

“I won’t,” she said proudly. “Because you love him.”

You didn’t deny it.

And for once, it didn’t feel like something to hide.

There was something comforting about saying it out loud. Here. Now.

In the kitchen that had always been a kind of sanctuary.

Where grief had been met with coffee and heartbreak stirred gently into soup.

Where silence never lasted long, and everything, somehow, returned to warmth.

Shaiya leaned beside you at the counter, arms crossed, smirk playing at the corners of her lips like it was muscle memory.

“You’re really going to leave without telling him?”

You didn’t lift your eyes. Just kept them fixed on the cutting board, where the lime’s bright green bled faintly into the grain.

“It’s not like it would change anything,” you said quietly.

She gave you a look—not cruel, not even stern. Just one part teasing, one part exasperated affection. “That’s probably the most melodramatic thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

You let out a soft, half-hearted laugh, one that barely stirred the air. “I’ve spent so long pretending I didn’t feel anything. Saying it now—it just feels like bad timing.”

Shaiya didn’t say anything for a while. The silence stretched comfortably, but not without weight.

You could feel her gaze on you, studying you the way only someone who’s known you half their life can.

Then, casually—too casually—she reached into her back pocket, thumb tapping quickly across her screen.

You blinked. “What are you doing?”

She shrugged, sliding the phone back out of sight. “Nothing. Just texting Eli. Or… you know, Sylus. Who’s to say, really?”

You turned toward her, brow arching. “Shaiya—”

She looked at you, all innocence and mischief. “Yes?”

You sighed, already regretting every life choice that brought you to this kitchen, this moment, this woman’s friendship.

She only smiled wider.

Like she knew exactly what was coming next.

You stared at the cutting board a moment longer, hands steady but your breath unraveling.

The lime had bled into the towel beside it—green, acidic, staining the fabric the way certain memories stain you. Subtle, but forever.

Your voice came quietly. Too calm for the storm that lived inside your chest.

“I’ve loved him for so long.”

Shaiya blinked, her teasing expression softening instantly.

You didn’t look at her. You couldn’t.

“It started before I realized it. Before I knew what it even meant to feel something that big. It was just the way he stood behind me when I was nervous. The way he remembered how I took my tea, even when I forgot. The way he looked at me like he already knew what I wasn’t saying.”

Your throat tightened.

“And I thought maybe—maybe it meant something. Maybe I meant something.”

You shook your head slowly.

“But then you said you didn’t want anyone to steal him. And I told myself I couldn’t be the one who did.”

You pressed your fingers to your eyes, as if it might hold the feeling back, keep it from spilling over.

“So I buried it. I buried every glance, every wish. I pretended it wasn’t real. And now I’m leaving. Because I thought if I put enough distance between us, I could finally be free of it.”

A pause. The air held still.

Then Shaiya raised an unimpressed brow. “I literally just told you he likes you.”

You blinked. “It doesn’t mean it’s that simple—”

“Actually,” she cut in, stepping closer, her arms crossed again but her voice gentler now, “sometimes it is. You’re acting like this is some doomed fairy tale. But he’s not a prince trapped in a tower, and you’re not cursed. You’re two emotionally repressed idiots who have loved each other in silence for too damn long.”

You opened your mouth, but she wasn’t done.

“And let me just say, if I went to all the trouble of pushing away every girl who blinked at my brother for you, and you still run away, I swear—”

You let out a breath of laughter, shaky but real.

“I was trying to do the right thing,” you whispered. “For you. For him. For me.”

Shaiya tilted her head, expression softening again. “Then do the right thing now. Let him decide if he wants to stop you.”

And just as those words settled into your bones—

The front door slammed open.

It echoed through the café like the sudden snap of a thread pulled too tight.

You startled, the sound cutting straight through your chest—and through the storm of emotions still settling after Shaiya’s words.

Your hands froze on the edge of the counter, breath caught mid-inhale.

Behind you, Shaiya looked up casually, as though she’d been expecting this precise moment down to the second.

And then, there he was.

Sylus.

Soaked to the bone, rain dripping from the sleeves of his coat, his breath uneven and labored as though he’d run the whole way here.

Which—knowing him—he might have.

Your eyes met his across the café, and for a moment, time did that impossible thing it always did around him. It stilled.

He didn’t speak. Just stared.

His chest rose and fell with effort, like every breath carried the weight of words he didn’t know how to form yet.

“Wow,” Shaiya muttered beside you, barely holding back a grin. “That was fast.”

You could barely process it. Could barely breathe.

You turned to her, your voice a whisper. “You really texted him?”

She shrugged, all faux innocence. “I said maybe.”

You opened your mouth, heart in your throat, but she was already backing toward the kitchen door, hand raised like a curtain call.

“I’ll be upstairs,” she said lightly. “Don’t break anything. Or do. Emotionally.”

And then you were alone.

With him.

The door swung shut behind her with a quiet click, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Even the rain seemed to still outside, giving the moment a reverent hush.

Sylus didn’t move right away. Neither did you.

Then.

“You weren’t going to tell me.”

His voice was hoarse. Barely above the hum of the overhead lights.

You swallowed hard. “I hadn’t… finalized anything yet.”

His brow creased, but he took a step forward. “You’re leaving.”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“That’s not better.”

You looked down, suddenly very aware of your hands. “I just… I needed space. A change. Something new.”

“From what?” he asked, a little too quickly. “From this place? From me?”

You winced. “From myself.”

He paused. And for the first time since he walked in, you saw it—the flicker of pain behind his eyes.

“I thought,” you whispered, “if I left, maybe I’d finally stop waiting. Stop hoping.”

He blinked slowly. “Hoping for what?”

Your laugh was small and bitter. “Do you really not know?”

He didn’t answer.

So you went on. Soft. Shaking.

Truth peeling itself from the edges of every word.

“I’ve loved you for so long it feels like part of me. And I thought—if I stayed here, I’d always be waiting. Always watching you walk into the room and pretending it didn’t feel like gravity. And that’s not fair. To me. Or to you.”

He was still. Completely still.

You pushed the words out, afraid they might choke you if you didn’t.

“I’ve loved you for years. Quietly. Stupidly. I thought it would pass—but it didn’t. I buried it for Shaiya’s sake. For yours. I thought I didn’t have the right.”

Sylus stepped closer. The air shifted with him, thick with rain and unsaid things.

“I wanted you to cross the line,” he said. “To look at me like I wasn’t just your best friend’s brother. And you did. You do. But you always looked away after.”

Tears welled in your eyes, hot and unrelenting.

“You never said anything,” you whispered.

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “I thought I had time.”

A silence fell, full of things neither of you had the language for.

Your heart stuttered.

“Don’t go,” he said, stepping close enough that his voice dropped to a whisper. “Not yet. Not when we haven’t even started.”

You stared at him, trembling.

“I don’t know what happens next,” you said. “I don’t know if this will work.”

His eyes searched yours, steady and soft.

“Then let’s figure it out. Together.”

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

But the distance had never felt smaller.

And for the first time in years, you weren’t waiting anymore.

But everything between you pulsed like a thread pulled taut—one heartbeat, one breath, one word away from breaking open.

Sylus raised a hand, slow and unsure, as if even now he feared he’d be pushing too far. His fingers hovered at your cheek for a moment—then touched.

Lightly. Like rain. Like memory.

Your breath caught.

His touch was careful, reverent.

Like he wasn’t sure you were real.

Like he didn’t believe this was happening.

“I should’ve said something sooner,” he murmured. “I should’ve fought harder.”

You leaned into his palm, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re here now.”

That was all that mattered.

He didn’t ask.

He didn’t need to.

Because when he leaned in—slow, like the world might shatter around him—you met him halfway.

The kiss was soft. Tentative at first. Like two people learning each other in a new language, after years of speaking only in silence.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, and your own clutched the fabric of his coat, holding him close, holding him steady.

It was warm. And aching.

And full of every breath you’d held back since the day your heart first whispered his name.

When you broke apart, it wasn’t with urgency. There was no panic now.

Just his forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathing the same rain-damp air, the same stunned stillness.

“I haven’t bought the ticket,” you whispered again.

“Good,” he murmured, thumb brushing gently across your cheek. “Stay.”

You closed your eyes. And for the first time, you didn’t feel like running.

You didn’t feel like waiting.

You just stood there, in the middle of a small kitchen that had seen your tears and your laughter, wrapped in the arms of the boy you had loved in silence for too long.

And this time—he held you back.

masterlist

#lads #lads x reader #love and deepspace #lnds x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lnds #l&ds x reader #lads sylus #lads sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus qin #qin che #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus #sylus x mc

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honeyncherry · 2 months ago

Note

hiii lexi can i request a fluffy SOU blurb where they have a date night at home and play with legos?

part of the sou universe but can be read as a standalone

content fluffff

જ⁀➴°⋆

“Look,” Joe holds his arm out. “Tulip.”

You look up from the vase you’re working on assembling. “Joe, that's a poppy.”

His brows furrow, eyes narrowing at the tiny Lego flower cradled in his palm. “Nah, it’s a tulip,” he insists, shaking it slightly for emphasis. A single red petal pops off, rolling to the floor.

You set your half-built vase down and reach forward for the fallen piece. “Tulips have those rounder petals. That’s definitely a poppy.”

Joe watches you with his legs crossed beneath him, the Lego instruction booklet tossed somewhere to the side. He’d said something about how flowers shouldn’t need instructions, “just a little imagination”, but now you’re left with a half-finished vase and a pile of mismatched pieces that definitely don’t look like anything blooming.

Every Wednesday night, a new set arrives on your doorstep, overnight shipped from whatever Lego collection Joe’s decided you’re building next. Buildings, cars, flowers—it’s his way of carving out time, making sure you still get him, even when practices run late and the days feel too short.

“Whatever,” he mutters, but there’s a twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Still pretty.”

You lean back on your heels, holding the petal between your thumb and forefinger, and offer it to him. “So pretty.”

Joe tips his head to the side, a slow grin spreading. “You know what would be really pretty?”

“What?” you ask, your voice a little softer than you mean for it to be.

“If we finished the set before you call me out again,” he says, pushing the petal back into the flower and holding it up in triumph. “Look. Perfect tulip.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling, too. “Still a poppy.”

“Still perfect,” he murmurs, leaning forward to nudge your shoulder with his. And when he does, his hand slips to your knee, thumb grazing just once over your leg.

You blush, looking back down at the vase, eyebrows scrunching up. “Okay, but I think I missed a step.” You glance around, spotting the crumpled instruction pamphlet under the couch. “Can I see the booklet?”

“Nope,” Joe says, reaching for the vase. “Trade. I’ll do the vase. You can handle the tulips.”

“Poppies,” you correct, handing it over with a pointed look.

Joe doesn’t reply as he takes the vase and stares at it like he’s trying to solve a complex math equation. The room is quiet except for the rustle of Lego pieces shifting under his hands. You watch him frown, his jaw tightening, his brows pulling together until finally, he huffs out a frustrated breath and mutters, “This is stupid.”

Your head tilts, and you bite back a grin. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, eyes flicking to the instruction booklet he tossed aside earlier. He reaches for it, flipping through the pages with an exaggerated scowl. “Just… seeing what you missed.”

“Oh, I missed something?” you tease. “I thought flowers didn’t need instructions.”

Joe ignores you, eyes moving between the diagram and the vase in his hand. When he finally looks up, there’s a stubborn, boyish pout on his face. You bite back a smile as he mutters under his breath, fitting some pieces that were pushed aside together until they click. Then he lifts the vase, turning it slightly, inspecting it from every angle.

“There,” he says, pushing the last piece into place with a little snap. He leans back, hands braced behind him, and nods at the completed vase. “Wasn’t that hard.”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing between the vase and the crumpled booklet still open beside him. “Oh yeah? Didn’t seem that way a minute ago.”

Joe rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. “It’s not about being hard,” he says, voice softening. “Just takes a little patience.”

You snort, crossing your arms. “Oh, so you’re the patient one now?”

“Absolutely,” he says, straight-faced, but his eyes are sparkling. “I’m basically a saint. Very patient. Very calm.”

You arch a brow, reaching over to pick up a stray piece and holding it up between you. “Saint Joe, huh?”

He leans forward, taking the piece from your hand, thumb grazing yours a little longer than necessary. “Yeah,” he says, a small, crooked grin forming. “And this very calm, very patient saint just finished the vase. So I think he deserves a reward.”

Your chest warms, and you lean back, giving him an exaggerated once-over. “Oh, yeah? What kind of reward?”

Joe grins, dropping the Lego piece into the vase with a soft clink. “I don’t know,” he drawls, leaning in until his face is inches from yours, his knee bumping against yours again. “Maybe a kiss from the girl who doubted him.”

You bite your lip, fighting a grin. “Hmm. I don’t know. That girl’s pretty hard to impress.”

“Oh, yeah?” Joe murmurs, leaning in a fraction closer, eyes flicking between yours. His lips hover just shy of yours, his breath warm, the air thick and sweet, until he pulls back with a teasing grin. “Maybe I should get her some tulips.”

You let out a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Mm. Maybe,” you say, nudging him with your knee. “But I think she likes poppies better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, your chest warm, the air between you still buzzing.

Joe leans back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Guess we’ll see next Wednesday.”

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader

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quartz-kilsviken · 5 months ago

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Written in the Runes

Chapter 1

➸ Synopsis: Ekko, your mischievous yet endearing local troublemaker, trails a wealthy academy student from the topside. When you end up with the student’s satchel, you find a notebook filled with intriguing magical research. Unable to resist, you embark on a quest to uncover the secrets of this mysterious scholar.

➸ pairing: jayvik x reader

➸ word count: 3,649

➸ tags: Slow Burn, yearning, eventual smut, not canon compliant

➸ notes: This is going to be an eventual Jayce/Viktor/Reader romance. I want a boyfriend and I want my boyfriend to have a boyfriend. The goal is for this to be an incredibly slow burn. Timeline might differ slightly to the show, and I’m making shit up as I go. I don’t understand LOL lore or magic, nor do I want to. You can also find me on AO3 Quarts_Kilsviken :)

➸ Next Chapter Link- Pt.2

For centuries, art has served as a means to capture moments otherwise lost to time. It functions as a time capsule, preserving not only events but the emotions felt by the artist. Families fleeing war, yet pausing long enough to capture the image of a single flower—the delicate curve of its petals, the vivid color stark against an ash-covered ground. A mother, imparting forgotten magic beneath the soft glow of firelight, a pale blue shimmer in the child’s wide eyes. Runes etched into the dirt, knowing they can be erased in an instant. These fragments call to you, urging you to remember moments you’ve never known. Moments your mother never had the chance to share with you.

As your pencil glides across the thin paper, you wonder if, one day, someone will look back at your captured moments. Will they find meaning in the images of waves crashing against the dock and sense the longing that fills them? You doubt it. The flimsy paper will likely disintegrate into dust within a few years. Still, you continue—perched atop a warehouse roof, waiting for the familiar ship to arrive. These moments are yours, the sunrise painting colors across your pages unseen in your home.

With a long stretch, you stuff your sketchbook into your bag and begin the familiar descent down the side of the building. The cool breeze from the water seeps deeper into your jacket as you approach the ship. After a minute of waiting, the cold settles into your bones and you decide it’s far too frigid to remain outside any longer. Avoiding the eyes of the workers, you slip up the ship's ramp, hurrying down into the cabin.

“Got anything good today, Khal?” you call out, trying to suppress a wince as you hear the loud thump and the string of curses that follow. The yordle emerges from behind a stack of crates, rubbing the top of his head.

“Ah, damn it, I told you to stop coming in here. Couldn’t you wait another five minutes?” Khal mutters, continuing to gather various items from the crates, placing them carefully into a large black bag.

“I’m doing you a favor, really. Now you won’t have to make the trip outside. It’s windy today, Khal—you might get blown away,” you tease. He glares up at you, unamused by your joke as you stand over the bag. Realizing he has what you want, you try to smooth things over with your most innocent smile. “Seriously, you don’t have to thank me for going the extra mile. But if you do—”

“Sorry, kid, no magic stuff today.” He shakes his head, zipping the bag shut with a snap. “They’ve been cracking down at the borders. Rumors of a new drug shipment coming to the docks are making it impossible to get anything in.” Khal sighs, sensing your disappointment, though it’s clear he’s frustrated with the situation as well. “Look, I managed to get some paint from Noxus for you and the kid. I know it’s not what you were hoping for, but—”

You cut him off with a tight hug, leaning down to wrap your arms around the furry little man. Though he doesn’t return it, when you pull away, you spot the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Now get out of here before the enforcers start their rounds.” You grab the bag, tossing it over your shoulder. With a quick farewell, you make your way away from the water.

As you enter the Lanes, the cool breeze morphs into warm, acrid smog. Your feet instinctively know the route home, staying in the shadows so no one catches sight of the bag hanging from your back. You push through the door of the familiar shop, relieved to unload the weight of the bag. Benzo looks up at you from behind the counter as you make your way over. With a grunt, you hoist the bag onto the table,

“You know, Benzo, I should get hazard pay for this. My back’s gonna be shot by the time I’m thirty, I swear. Should start saving for an early retirement,” you joke.

“You’re already robbing me blind with what I pay you, little lady. Anyone give you trouble on your way back?” Benzo peers at you over the rim of his glasses.

“Nah, not today,” you say, hopping over the counter and tossing a few items onto the shelves. “With all these new trade precautions, I bet most people don’t think it’s worth the hassle anymore.” You wrinkle your nose at a rusty pocket watch, trying to decide if it’s even worth trying to sell. Benzo sighs and settles back in his chair, apparently leaving the rest to you. You continue sorting through the shelves, but something’s off. No, scratch that—a lot is off. You stop mid-motion, eyes darting to the now-empty display. “Were we robbed?”

It takes him a second to figure out where you’re looking, and when he does, he chuckles, clearly unbothered. “Nah, some academy kid cleared out the display a couple hours ago. Ekko made a killing off him.” You knew you’d never have enough to buy even one of the items, but it still stings to know they’re gone.

“What would an academy kid even want with magic artifacts?” You bite the words out, too sharp, too bitter. You immediately try to reel it back. “He probably doesn’t even know what he’s got—just hoarding them to show off to his rich friends.”

Benzo shrugs like he’s heard it all before. “You know the drill. We don’t question customers.” He takes a beat, then adds, “But if it helps, the kid seemed pretty knowledgeable.” That makes you feel a little better, though not enough to erase the empty, hollow feeling in your chest. The case sits vacant, mocking you.

Suddenly, the door slams open with a crash, followed by a flash of white hair as the little whirlwind zips across the room. Before you can even react, the kid darts through the back door like he’s on a mission.

You can’t help it—you burst out laughing at the sight of Benzo, stone-faced, staring after the boy. With a quick swipe of your hand, you snatch the paint from the now empty bag, slip through the door, and head after him. Listening carefully, you figure he’s made it down the stairs to his room. You knock softly before poking your head inside. Ekko’s in the process of shoving something under his bed, looking incredibly guilty. When he sees you, his face lights up with a giant smile. The kid’s clever, but not great at hiding things.

“I’ve got something for you, little man,” you say, leaning against the bed. You wave the paint palette in front of his face, teasing him, but snatch it away before he can grab it. “If you want it, you’re gonna have to tell me what’s under there.”

Ekko starts pacing, looking like he’s weighing his options, then stops, squints at you, and says, “You have to promise you won’t tell Benzo.”

You put on a mock-serious face, tapping your chin. “Depends. Did you kidnap someone? ‘Cause I’m not sure I wanna be an accomplice to kidnapping.”

“No,” Ekko says, a little too quickly, his eyes darting nervously under the bed.

“Fraud?”

“No.”

“Murder?”

“No.”

You chuckle and shake your head, finally giving in. “Fine. I won’t tell Benzo.”

Ekko resumes his pacing, looking oddly pleased with himself. “Okay, so this guy comes in earlier today. Buys a bunch of fancy stuff—the kind we usually keep behind glass. He’s got a ton of money, I’m talking a lot.” He pauses, grinning. “Obviously, I charged him double.” He snickers to himself, then continues. “Anyway, I was curious, so I followed him.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised, but somehow, you still are. You stare at him, rubbing your forehead. “Ekko, really? Benzo said he’s an academy student. You followed him all the way topside?”

Ekko avoids your eyes, and you already know the answer. “Ekko.”

“No one saw me, I swear!” He glances back at the bed, stalling. After a deep breath, he adds, “Okay, so the guy put his bag down to grab his keys, then went inside—probably too distracted with the rest of his stuff to remember he left it behind.”

You gasp. Without thinking, you dive under the bed and, sure enough, pull out a satchel. You immediately regret your earlier promise. “Ekko, what if there’s something valuable in here? If he gets enforcers involved and this is going to be the first place they look.”

Ekko waves a hand dismissively. “Come on. Think about it. He came in for a bunch of illegal stuff. He’s not going to risk it. Plus, he’s loaded. Whatever’s in that bag, he can buy it again.”

You look at the satchel again, hesitating for a moment. Then, curiosity wins out. You pat the floor next to you, and Ekko eagerly plops down beside you. You pop open the bag and dump its contents onto the floor in one smooth motion. Ekko dives into the mess with excitement, while you start inspecting the items. It’s a mess—books, pens, random junk. Exactly what you’d expect from an academy student.

Ekko picks up a wallet and flips through it before remembering that he already cleaned out the guy’s coin. Losing interest, he starts to toss it aside, but you snatch it up before he can. It’s plain, brown leather with neat stitching—nothing special, but maybe it’s worth a little something. As you dig inside, your fingers catch on a student ID card. It’s scratched up but still in decent condition. You flip it over, and a pair of big eyes stare back at you. The blurry picture shows a young man, maybe in his early twenties, with a wide, gap-toothed grin. Handsome, you think, not at all who I imagined. You slide the card back into place and shove the wallet into your jacket pocket.

Ekko’s rummaging through the rest of the bag, clearly unimpressed by the contents. You laugh at the face he’s making and, still grinning, grab the paint you’d dropped earlier. “Khal said these are from Noxus. Definitely worth a lot. So, don’t let Mylo use them to paint middle fingers on Jericho’s stall.”

Ekko snickers, jumping up to stow the paint away, tossing the pens he grabbed from the bag into a drawer with a careless flick. He starts cramming the rest of the bag’s contents back in, and you look over at him, an eyebrow raised. “Do you mind if I, uh, borrow your stolen bag?”

Without missing a beat, Ekko flashes you a sly grin. “Sure, but just so you know, that officially makes you an accomplice now.”

You can’t help but laugh as you leave Ekko’s room and wander down the hall. By the time you collapse on your bed, the exhaustion hits you like a wave. Dock runs only happen once a month, but they require staying up all night—leaving right after sunset and staying until the ship docks at sunrise. It used to be so much easier—endless nights that never seemed to take a toll. But now, as your joints creak and protest, you feel like a 23-year-old who’s already past their prime. You glance down at the satchel, chewing the inside of your cheek. You’ve already gone through it—hell, you dumped its contents all over Ekko’s floor. So why the sudden wave of guilt?

You decide to be more careful this time, taking things out slowly. The first item is a crumpled piece of paper, which turns out to be a grocery list. You set it aside with a sigh and reach for the next thing: a hardcover book, dark blue canvas, its corners fraying with age. The moment you touch it, you can tell it’s old—the scent of it, the brown tint of the pages. The text is foreign, some language you can’t quite place. Maybe it’s from overseas? Curiosity gnaws at you, but you set the book aside and move to the next.

This one catches your attention immediately. The cover’s worn, but it’s the script inside that makes your heart beat a little faster. You flip through the pages and realize it’s a grimoire. Runes cover every inch, some familiar, others completely alien. How did he get his hands on this? Sure, he’s rich, but something so detailed, so rare? There’s no way it would’ve come from Piltover. The heat of anger burns through you, a deep, familiar ache that’s almost like grief. He’s carrying around a book that details the same magic your family nearly died for. But is it really just anger? No, it’s something else. The pages seem to hum, drawing you in, much like your mother’s paintings once did—pulling you toward something. Your past? No… not this time. It’s something else entirely.

Finally, you pull out the last book from the satchel. It feels heavier, like it’s carrying something more than just weight. You run your fingers over the hammer etched into the cover, studying its details before opening it. Inside, it’s filled with messy notes and diagrams, all jumbled but with a clear purpose. This is it—this is what he’s been working on. He’s trying to harness magic.

Though your body is screaming for rest, you can’t bring yourself to put the book down. When you finally glance at the clock, it’s already 5 AM, but you’re still lost in the pages. You’re hooked—caught in the madness of it all. It’s brilliant. Insane. Revolutionary. And completely, utterly terrifying. His scrawl is all over every page, his signature tucked into the corner of each one. Even though this is clearly just one of many notebooks—a fraction of his larger body of work—it all makes perfect sense. Harnessing arcane energy through crystals. Capturing raw, chaotic magic and transforming it into a usable, practical source.

It’s clear he knows what he’s doing, but there’s something missing in his understanding of the arcane itself. His notes drip with frustration, especially where he’s tried to decode the runes—almost every page filled with scribbles, crossed-out lines, and half-baked theories. It’s as if he’s so close, yet there’s a final piece that eludes him.

And then it hits you. You might be that missing piece.

You’re no scholar, and you certainly aren’t a genius, but you know more than most when it comes to the arcane. You’ve lived it, felt it, and you can see the gaps in his research—things that could be the key to unlocking it all. Maybe you could help him. You feel the weight of the possibility, the urgency of his discovery. It’s world-changing. The visions he’s drawn out on each page show the immense potential for how this technology could revolutionize not just Piltover, but the Undercity, too. His research could bridge the gap between the two worlds, completely reshaping everything in its wake.

But as the minutes slip by and your eyelids grow heavier, you realize your body can no longer keep up with your racing thoughts. The words on the page blur into one long stream, and before you know it, your head tilts to the side. Your hand slips from the notebook as sleep finally pulls you under, the weight of your thoughts fading into the quiet dark.

You’re stirred awake by a quiet knock on your door. “You dead in there?” Benzo’s voice filters through, soft but insistent. As your mind clears, you realize your bed is strewn with the contents of the stolen satchel. Panic flickers for a moment before you shove the books back into the bag, tossing it under the bed just as he softly cracks the door open. Benzo stands in the doorway, glancing over you with a raised brow.

“You look like death,” he says with a tired chuckle. “How long you been sleeping?”

“Uh...” You glance at the clock. It’s already 6 PM. You wince. “About thirteen hours.”

He rubs his temples, sighing. “Get cleaned up, then come watch the shop for a while. I’ve gotta head out with Vander.” The fatigue is clear in his face, the lines around his eyes deepening.

“What happened? Is he okay?” You start picking out clothes, your movements automatic as the weight of the situation begins to settle in.

He exhales sharply, dropping down onto your bed with a heavy sigh. “Vander’s fine. But the kids... well, they’ve stirred up some serious trouble. You missed all the fun. Yesterday there was an explosion and a chase topside. And today? Enforcers barging in here looking for four kids. They tried to rob a rich academy topsider, but things went sideways. I heard the whole side of the building got blasted off, and now the Enforcers are crawling all over the Undercity.”

Your stomach drops. “Was anyone hurt?”

He glances at you, his expression softening. “No, thank the gods. But the building—turns out it was the Kirammans’ place. What was in there? I don’t even want to think about it.” His gaze sharpens. “The kids will be fine. Vander and I will handle it. But they need to lay low for a while. Knowing them, though, that’ll be a battle.”

You nod quietly, though the weight in your chest only grows heavier as he exits your room. After a quick shower, you find yourself behind the shop counter, brown cloak draped loosely around you, trying to mask the weight on your shoulder. The place is eerily still, save for the hum of your own racing thoughts. Your eyes stay fixed on the door as you wait, the uneasy silence pressing in.

When the door finally opens, it’s Ekko who walks in, looking surprised to see you behind the counter instead of Benzo. His usual brash energy is subdued, and he leans against the counter, avoiding your eyes.

“Bet you already heard what happened,” he mutters, picking at some invisible spot on the counter. “Vander’s really upset with us.”

The weight of his words hits harder than you expect. For all the bravado Ekko tries to show, you know how deeply he feels. You reach over, ruffling his hair, offering what little comfort you can. “Hey, little man, it’s gonna be okay. Everyone makes mistakes. I get why you did it. Vander and Benzo, they’ve made their own share of screw-ups, so they have plenty of experience fixing them.” Ekko gives a small, grateful smile at that. “Go get some sleep, alright? Things’ll cool down by tomorrow.”

Just as you finish speaking, the bell rings, and Benzo reappears, starting to lower the shutters. Before he locks the door, you move to slip out. “Get some rest, you two. I’m heading out for the night.”

Ekko gives you a tired wave as he heads for the back. Benzo, however, doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“You know,” he says, arms crossed, voice low, “I can’t stop you, but I’m still gonna tell you—it’s a bad idea. Enforcers are everywhere. There’s fighting on every corner.”

You both hold eye contact for a long beat, but he lets out a resigned sigh. “No arguing with you, is there? Go on, get out of here.” He opens the door for you, and you catch him off guard with a quick hug before slipping out into the night. His grumble follows you as the door clicks shut behind you.

The streets are a war zone. Enforcers litter every corner, and the air is thick with tension. You move through the Undercity carefully, staying in the shadows as much as you can, until you reach Piltover. There, it’s quieter, and for a moment, you feel a strange kind of relief.

There’s no sign of enforcers from atop the large buildings, but as you crouch to catch your breath, the sight in front of you makes your chest tighten. From this angle, calling it an explosion doesn’t even come close. The place looks like it’s been torn apart. A sinking feeling settles in your gut.

It makes sense the building looks abandoned now—who would stick around in a wreck like this? But then you realize it: you came here without a plan. What was your angle? Strut in, say you’ve got stolen research, and hope for the best? Ridiculous. Still, you’ve come this far. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt to get a bit closer.

With a deep breath, you sprint across the gap to the next rooftop, landing lightly and pausing to steady yourself. And there they are. Two figures, barely visible in the wreckage, illuminated only by the faint glow of a lamp. One is scribbling on a chalkboard, broad shoulders following the movements of his writing. The other holding a book in one hand and gripping a cane in the other, standing a step behind him. You squint, trying to make out the messy writing, but the shadows blur everything.

Just then, they turn—though you know they can’t possibly see you. Still, a chill runs down your spine, and you freeze, watching them move through a door, disappearing deeper into the building.

That’s when it hits you—the pull. The whispers, soft in the breeze. The tug in your chest. Every moment, every choice, has led to this. The memories flood back: your mother’s hands glowing with magic, her soft voice teaching you. Benzo, taking your hand as he led you from the ruins of your home, offering you a new place where you could rebuild, and with it, the hope that you could be more.

And now you’re here.

You feel the wind, the pull drawing you forward. Without thinking, you leap.

#viktor arcane #jayce x viktor #viktor x reader #jayce talis #arcane jayce #jayce x reader #jayvik #jayvik x reader

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spookymultimedia · 1 month ago

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I got the idea to design a small theme park for Welcome Home. It's heavily inspired by Holiday World. It was only in business for 8 years until the park closed with the cancelation of the show.

Eddie- the entrance of the park is Eddie's post office, in the front you buy tickets and on the other side there's maps, a medical station and coloring pages with a shaded area for coloring at. Left from that is Eddie's Mail Route. A slow car track ride that seats two. Or one adult and two small children.

Frank- on the right of the entrance there's Frank's Butterfly Swings. A basic spinning swing ride that lifts up and then sets you down after. Each swing has a different color butterfly.

Wally- straight foward is Wally's walk through house. It's basically like one of those houses from Toon Town in Disneyland but with the quality of that Wiggles dark ride. There's little buttons that will make Home do different noises depending on where you are. Sometimes if you're lucky you'll see Wally around there as a mascot suit, but he's only out at certain times of the day for meet and greets. There's also a little face paint area around there you can get of different characters of animals or patterns.

Poppy- from the left of Home there's Poppy's Cottage. That has drinks you can buy from the outside and a sunblock dispenser station. Inside you can sit down and eat food. Pizza, Salad, Hotdogs. Stuff like that. Cheap stuff. There's also restrooms inside.

Howdy- to the right of Home there's Howdy's Catapillar Crawl that's meant for younger children and parents. Next to it is Howdy's gift ship. There's no doors you just walk in. Inside there's fans and Air Conditioning. There's also bathrooms in there too. You can get little snacks as well. Apple slices, cookies, candy, popcorn. There's the regular gift shop items you'd expect like plushes, shirts, hoodies, sunglases, ect ect.

Julie- Above Howdy's gift shop is Julie's Flower Petal Playground with giant flowers and some you can climb on. Basic playground with swings, a merry-go-round, slides and hopscotch that's permanently there with paint. It has that bouncy playground rubbery ground if you understand what I mean.

Sally- left diagonal from Home is Sally's Sunshine Theatre. There they do live shows and sing alongs. It's not always open, only for special events. Sometimes it's there for live music concerts for adults. You get a good view of the rollercoaster behind it too.

Barnaby- at the very back of the park is Barnaby's Barnyard Whirlwind. It's half a dark ride and half a rollercoaster. You ride through on a buggy first. Inside are animatronics. The story is revolved around visiting Barnaby's Mom. After the dark section you go up to the second floor and strap into the rollercoaster. Then you exit the back of the building to Julie's Flower Petal Playground. The entrance has water mist fans. This ride is inspired by both Holiday World's Thunderbird and Gobbler Getaway.

Howdy, Eddie, Frank, Julie are characters only seen on signs and decorations.

Barnaby and Poppy are walk around mascot suits and also seen in decor and signs. They can always be fround. Poppy us usually at the restaurant or playground. Barnaby can be found either at Wally's House, the playground or around the entrance of the Barnyard Rollercoaster. There's multiple mural paintings of Poppy in the walls of the restaurant.

Wally and Sally are walk around mascot suits that are only seen in person during special events or live shows. Otherwise they're only seen on signs and decor.

There were plans for a water park extension that would have been themed around Barnaby and Sally with other beach themed art of the characters but the park shut down mid production.

The first picture is the Barnaby's Puppy Pool area. The second are two scrapped waterslides that were my ever finished. The top one is Sally's Water Swirl. If you can guess what this is based on, then good for you lol. The second slide never got an official name but there are shapes in slide would be lights that would fly by inside the side. This is a parody of ZOOMbabwe from Holiday World

#welcome home #welcome home fanart #welcome home theme park au #eddie dear #frank frankly #poppy partridge #wally darling #howdy pillar #sally starlet #julie joyful #barnaby b beagle

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moonlightfiction · 4 months ago

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OCkiss25 Day 3 - Stolen

Good luck kiss

This one is dedicated to a ship that can never sail in canon but will sail even more in modern AU in exchange.

@fakecheshirecat and I have always talked about possibly giving Ji Hui and Lang Lang a chance in the original story but as the events kept on unfolding, at some point Ditto and I have realized that it would never be possible for them to be a couple - they wouldn't even ever consider it.

But then in modern AU it was just so natural for them to gravitate to each other that them not being together would actually be weird.

So here's a tribute to one of our most favorite ships in the Pages and Petals universe~

#OCkiss25 #Pages and Petals #Pages and Petals art #Pages and Petals bonus #Pages and Petals modern AU #ship: prince in distress #oc: Xun Ji Hui #oc: Yang Lang Qing #gosh i love them #i do want to write a whole novel about modern AU too ...

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perseephoneee · 6 months ago

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winter ball [ficmas day 14] [kol mikaelson x f!reader] cinderella au

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2024

author's note: this is less wintery than i intended (whoops) but also this might be one of my favorite things I've ever written!!! i'm literally so hyped for it!!! p.s. thanks to charmed for all the spells lol

playlist:

once upon a dream -- lana del rey

that's so true -- gracie abrams

just like christmas -- low

The floor was ashy again.

Your sisters were horrendous with maintaining the fireplace, and always left the place filthy. Of course, it fell on you to clean up. You always had the clean up.

You were cleaning the apothecary, brushing up all the scattered herbs and dead things that your stepsisters would drag in under the guise of 'magic.' They had no magic of their own, you knew that. Your stepmother always indulged them, always.

They never stayed long at work, though, always finding an excuse to go somewhere else. So it was just you in the shop.

The bells rang above your door.

You looked up to see Prince Kol walking into your store. You straighten up immediately, dipping into a curtsy. He waved you off.

"No pleasantries, it's pretentious, and I hate it," he drawled. He was the youngest of his three brothers, commonly known as the wily one. Also known as the devilishly handsome one. Not that you thought about it.

"Apologies, Your Highness," you murmured, head still bowed. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"According to my network, you're the best apothecary in the kingdom," Kol shoved his hands in his pockets, rifling around until he found what he was looking for. He planted a flower on the table. "I want your help identifying this."

You picked up the flower, twirling it between your fingers. It seemed like one of the common valley flowers, but the energy of it felt off. You touched some of the petals.

"I'd have to consult my books; I don't recognize it immediately," you hummed.

"I need it identified sooner rather than later, and I'll pay handsomely," Kol grinned. You looked up at him. His eyes regarded you, cooly, taking into thought every detail. You felt shivers down your spine.

"May I ask the purpose of this project?" you inquired.

"Secrets, darling," Kol put a finger to his lips. "This is also confidential; don't mention it to anyone."

"To whom would I mention it?" you muttered. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop any more comments. He smiled gleefully. "I'll check in tomorrow."

You watched him leave the way he came, a flurry of energy here and then gone. You sat down at the desk in the back, twirling the flower stem. No one was in the shop to witness you, so you flicked your fingers and brought several books over to your table. They flipped open to the pages you needed. You were too lazy to stand up and peruse the shelf, especially after your morning. You stayed camped over your desk until your stepmother and sisters got back. They whisked through the door like a tornado.

"We must make an appointment with the modiste to prepare," your stepmother, Ms. Laurel, said. She glanced around the store as if it personally offended her and as if it wasn't the thing that kept her finances. Your step sisters, Hana and Monet, were not much better.

"I will have the best chance because of my lovely neck," Monet crooned. She acted like a swan. Hana nudged her over.

"But I have the best ankles."

"He will not care if neither of you can carry a conversation," Ms. Laurel groaned, hand on her head. She finally noticed your presence. "You still need to dust."

You had, but she would never admit that.

"What's at the modiste?" you asked, voice small. Ms. Laurel rolled her eyes.

"Dresses, you dull girl," Ms. Laurel took a seat by the shelf, rubbing her temples. "Prince Elijah is seeking a wife before his coronation, and he's opening invitations to every eligible girl in the kingdom."

No wonder your step sisters were in a tizzy. Not that they'd have a chance. Hana could be mean, but mostly, the two of them were the product of their upbringing. Vapid and clueless to true suffering. You closed your books, hiding the flower under some papers. No, you wouldn't tell your stepmother about Kol's arrival. That was something you'd keep to yourself.

"And before you ask, you are not attending. I'll need someone to manage the apothecary."

"Not that I wanted to go anyway," you grumbled. Her excuse was false; no one would have come to the apothecary if the crown prince had a ball. Both of you knew that.

Ms. Laurel whisked out of the shop soon after with your sisters in tow. Some excuses are being made for their absence. Her name might've been on the lease, but it was not hers. It was yours. You waited until the last rings of the bell on the door could be heard before bothering to use magic again. Your books weren't giving you any information, so it was time to try a little trick.

Like an extension of yourself, you let your magic weave around the petals, dancing across as it sought its origin. Tastes and purposes came to your mind, and with perfect clarity, you knew the flower for what it was. You dropped it hurriedly on the table, alarmed. At least you weren't a fool and didn't ingest the flower. You'd probably be dead already.

You were a little annoyed at the prince for just leaving it with you.

Like clockwork, he came in again tomorrow. He was once again dressed very casually for a man of his status. He wore the same flirting grin.

"Have you discovered its origins yet?" he asked, hands clasped behind his back. You leveled a glare at him.

"Capriforacacus," you raised a brow. "Commonly known as the 'devil's eye,' it's a type of extremely poisonous huckleberry. It's the only one that happens to flower."

"Ah, so you are as good as they say," he purrs. The low timbre of his voice sends shivers up your spine. "Little witchling."

You bristle at the name. "I'm no witch."

"Only magic can truly identify devil's eye," Kol tsked. "That borne of magic can only be found the same ways."

"You tricked me."

"I tested you," Kol shrugged. "I'm so happy I did. You are a sight when you are angry."

Despite him being a pain in your ass, there was nothing malicious about the youngest prince. He was a trickster and annoying, but he looked at you in wonder and intrigue. This was only a witchhunt in the sense that he needed a witch. He had no intention of hurting you. It didn't do much to take away the sour taste on your tongue.

He leaned as elbows against your table, leaning in close to you. If it were polite, you would've pushed your seat back. As it was, you didn't want to show any vulnerability. Kol grinned.

"Now that I know I can trust you," Kol smirked. "I do have a real task for you."

"Identifying poisons?"

"Unsure," he said. He pulled out a bunch of random things from his breeches pockets. A coin from the Gulf Coast, a bird's femur, dried plants, and more. It looked like a bad collection of oddities. "This is a secret, darling, so don't utter it to anyone."

You had no one to tell, even if you wanted.

"I shall be made Spymaster when my brother, 'Lijah, becomes king. I'm adept at sneaking around, and I have no desire to rule. Elijah, despite boring me, knows that. I've already started into my role even though coronation is not for a while."

You had the sense that Kol made a very good spy. He was charming and mischievous and didn't seem to initially come off as threatening. You got the feeling he was actually one of the most dangerous.

"I have reason to believe that someone is making an attempt on my brother's life," Kol said delicately. Your breath caught in your throat. "We've had various dignitaries coming to stay for the ball at the end of the month, and I've been finding various totems such as these throughout the castle. I've run with enough witches in my day to sense a hex."

He wasn't wrong. Much of what was on the table were various elements in spellwork. Not necessarily evil, but it ws safer to imagine it was for nefarious reasons. You picked up one of the bird bones and grimaced. There was no 'light' spell that utilized animal bones.

"What are you hoping I will do?" you asked, looking up at him. His dark eyes regarded you cooly.

"Figure out the spell, figure out the caster," he grinned, the light making his teeth look as sharp as fangs. "I'll be visiting periodically to help, of course. Monitor your progress."

"Make sure I'm not spilling your secrets to the highest bidder," you answered. He quirked a brow, confirming your answer.

"You will be paid handsomely for your task."

"I'd hope so," you answered without thinking. Curse your stupid tongue. It only spurred him on further.

"Aren't you a firecracker? I look forward to our next meeting," Kol bowed to you, heading back out of the store. He paused at the threshold, turning to look at you. The sun from the outside gave his hair a warm glow, and he looked every part of the ruggedly handsome prince. "Till later, witchling."

You seethed at the nickname.

When you weren't doing chores for Ms. Laurel, you were researching the various objects.

The only benefit of your 'room' was that it was on the lowest form of your modest townhome. It was essentially a closet, but far away from prying eyes that allowed you to practice your magic freely. Your body grew hot and itchy when you couldn't cast, and you reveled in the times by yourself when you would conjure the elements. It served even more use now as you utilized your magic to further your research. You weren't closer to an answer, although you were eliminating options. That much was good.

Your room was next to the kitchen, and occasionally, you had to hide what you were doing from your stepmother, who would come to berate you, and Monet, who would come to steal food. Sometimes, she asked how you were. You weren't sure if she fully meant it.

You didn't get to see Kol until a week later.

You had had minimal interactions with the prince, but you found that you missed his energy. You were often a footnote, nothing of importance. Your father was once a respected healer, your mother a hidden witch, and the apothecary renowned for its medicine. Witchcraft was by no means illegal, but it wasn't welcome. Your mother always managed to disguise her healing as something else, even if it was a miracle. You wished you had the same grace she did.

Your father would've been able to help you with your research, especially before he started to lose his memory before he remarried a woman just so he wouldn't lose the shop. It's times like these you miss him the most.

It was late afternoon when Kol arrived. He came bearing gifts. You perked up as he took out a bottle of wine and a fresh loaf of bread.

"I thought it would be nice to have nourishment while studying."

"I think you're spoiling me," you said, mouth salivating from the scents. You hadn't had anything fresh like that loaf in a while, and the wine was way above what you could afford. Kol poured you a glass, and you took a delicate sip. It was full-bodied in a way that made your bones settle into themselves. "Thank you."

"Anything for a pretty witch," Kol winked. You wonder if he flirted with everybody. Part of you hoped it was special only to you. "What progress have you made?"

You spent hours at the shop with Kol, flipping the door sign to 'closed' to offer you some privacy. Kol was your initial assessment and so much more. He was ridiculously intelligent and very curious about the magical world. He was also a little reckless and definitely lived life hanging precariously over the edge. You wondered if he ever worried about falling.

You conjured a little apparition of a rabbit to quell his curiosity.

"Elijah plans to welcome magic users onto his court," Kol said, his eyes still full of wonder from the rabbit bouncing around the room. You perked up.

"He does?"

"He feels that the stigma has gone on too long, that it's time we utilized and appreciated the gifts of witches and warlocks."

You wondered how that would go over with the general public. Kol must've seen the hesitation in your face.

"Darling," Kol breathed. "Don't be ashamed of your talents and what talents they are." He grinned. You felt yourself grow lighter under his gaze.

"You're not bad," you whispered, the setting sun casting the shop in tones of pink and orange.

"Did you think I was?"

"I didn't know what to think," you answered honestly. "Most people describe you as dangerous."

"Who says I'm not?"

"You're nice to me," you looked at the bread crumbs from your meal. "That isn't very dangerous."

"Ah, but I did get you wine drunk," Kol grinned, nodding towards your empty glass. He wasn't wrong; your head felt full of fluff. "So, maybe I am as dangerous as they say."

"Are you trying to make me scared of you?" you inquired.

"Is it working?" He leaned forward on the table, almost nose to nose with you. He had thick lashes that you were jealous of.

"No," you responded. You were being truthful in your statement. He knew it, too. He looked into your eyes as if searching for more truths about you. You didn't know how to offer anything else to him.

He came over a few more times leading up to the ball, but you were no closer to solving your mystery. One night, you figured out the exact ingredients for the spell. It would bring its target into a deep sleep. Not death, but merely a coma. It still wasn't good, though.

"Could it be one of the female dignitaries?" you asked. "Securing an engagement so that if Prince Elijah goes into this sleep, she will have the opportunity to rule without the threat of murder?"

"Then she can con him with a fertility spell," Kol mused, tracing the rim of his wine glass with his finger. "Why a sleep spell?"

You weren't closer to figuring out who cast it.

You did enjoy your time with Kol, though. How could you not? He supplied you with wine and food and laughter, things you rarely got yourself. Camped out in the shop at night, it was your own little world. One where he wasn't the prince, and you weren't a witch. You just were. Sometimes, you caught him looking at you, and your skin would grow hot. You dreamed once of stolen kisses and lingering touches, and the next day, when you saw him, you could barely make eye contact. You were getting into territories you could never come back from. What would happen when your mission was over?

That sadness overcame you the night of the ball. Kol had promised to pay you for your services the day afterward, but then you knew you'd never see him again. Your heart hurts because of it.

You were sipping tea in the greeting room when your sisters whisked down in their gowns.

"You both look lovely," you said, giving them a small smile. Monet smiled back, but Hana ignored you, checking her reflection in a mirror.

"Of course they do; they're gorgeous," Ms. Laurel said as she came down the stairs after them. She was also dressed up, almost as flashy as them. You'd think she was also out to secure an engagement. She pointed a gloved finger at you. "We will be back by midnight. I expect you to have our rooms ready and baths drawn by then."

"Yes, mother."

"Good, we best get going. We're securing our futures!" she cheered, ushering her girls out the door. You watched them with a pang of envy. You didn't care about marrying Elijah, but you'd be a liar to say you didn't enjoy pretty things. You would've liked to wear a pretty dress and see Kol. Maybe he wouldn't have pretended you were a secret.

You made yourself some dinner with whatever you had stored in your icebox before settling down at the table with all your books again. Something was tugging at your memory, but you couldn't think about what it was. Suddenly, it clicked. You rushed to grab all the spell elements.

The lesson learned was that maybe you shouldn't always be wine-drunk while trying to find a potential killer. You would need magic for this secret. You whispered the words in the air, imagining each item being a tangled thread. You subtly unpicked all of them, untying the knots and moving them to the side until they formed a bigger picture. When you got to the last one, you gasped. You were an idiot to not see it before.

If it was true, though, then the spell would be happening tonight, and everyone could see it. You needed to get to the ball. But with what? Even if you could get there, the guards would not let a simple girl like you in. You rushed towards your mother's grimoire.

You hid it under your bed so your stepsisters couldn't ruin it or Ms. Laurel couldn't burn it. You flipped to the section about disguise spells. You thanked your mother as you found what you were looking for.

You grabbed the necessary ingredients and laid them out in a salt circle, standing in the middle. You held some loose salt in your hand and sprinkled it over you as you recited the words:

Who you were

You're now another

Take this dress

Make it something other

Your simple clothes were reimagined into a glimmering gown. Your sleeves were gossamer incarnate, the bodice tight before flowing out into the skirt in tiers of satin and chiffon. It made you look delicate and ethereal. It was perfect.

It came with matching sparkling slippers. They were annoyingly comfortable.

While you solved your problem of an outfit (and hair, your mother really thought of everything), you still needed a ride. An idea came to you. You conjured a water horse, one of the spirits from the fifth element, and using another of your mother's spells made it corporeal. It was a beautiful white steed, happy to take you where you needed. It would return to its place in the spirit realm by the end of the night.

All the magic you used made your blood sing and your vision sharper. You raced towards the castle, the wind whipping your hair in a way that made you laugh. You couldn't help it. You felt so free. You ended up at the castle in record time, and even though you were late, no one seemed to care. Everyone was invited, after all.

You caught a few glances as you raced through the front entrance, searching for the ballroom. You came onto a large staircase in the middle of a dance. Your eyes searched the crowd for Kol, but you couldn't find him, so you started making your way down. You ignored the many eyes looking at you.

You almost crashed into Kol at the bottom of the stairs. Where he had come from, you had no idea.

He was dressed like a prince tonight, not like the hellion he normally was. Your breath was taken from you as you regarded him with new eyes. He was always this handsome (you knew that), but in this look, everyone could see it too.

"Hi, witchling," Kol smiled. His eyes couldn't stop looking at you. "Care to join me?"

He offered you his hand. You heard some people start whispering to each other. You were a strange girl being asked to dance by one of the princes; you suppose it warranted some fascination. Your words were failing you, so you nodded and let him whisk you to the dance floor. He pulled you into a simple waltz.

"Kol–"

"I resent you for coming tonight," he whispered to you. You looked at him in confusion. "You make it very hard to move on from you."

"Move on?"

"You have bewitched me, darling," he murmurs. "In body and soul."

"Kol," you breathe. You wanted to ask him why you, of all people, have caught his attention; you want to grab him by his lapels and kiss him. You want to run away with him forever. But you remember why you came, not to kiss a prince, but to save one. "Kol, I know who's behind the spell."

He froze at that, his expression becoming guarded again. You whispered into his ear, and he blanched.

"We need to get you out of here. Now," he cursed, looking around the ballroom.

"What? Why?"

"He knows I've been looking into it. And you're a witch," Kol said simply. "He'll pin the whole thing on you."

"Kol–" you started but were cut off by shouts of the royal guard. Kol wasn't lying. They were going to use you as a scapegoat. Kol pushed you in the direction of the exit, trying to buy you time. You ran as fast as you could in your heels, picking up your skirts so you didn't trip and tumble on the ground. People were pushed out of the way by the guards, some crying out from the intrusion. You didn't stop, though; you ran towards the entrance.

Your feet betrayed you. You tripped on the stairs, one of your slippers falling off. You ignored it, continuing down. Several guards came out at the bottom, trapping you. You breathed heavily as you realized this was the end of the road.

"Arrest her for conspiracy against the crown," the chilling voice of Prince Klaus, the middle brother, crooned. He came down the steps without a care in the world. His eyes were cold and distant.

"Don't arrest her!" Kol yelled, running up behind his brother. He grabbed your shoe on the way down, almost brandishing it as a weapon as he skidded to a stop. "She's innocent. This is a ploy."

"My dear brother, so desperate for attention," Klaus drawled. "Using this poor girl as an instrument to get the crown. I suppose we'll have to arrest him too."

Kol bristled, and you could do nothing as two guards grabbed him and started to pull him away. Klaus smiled gleefully, no kindness for his brother. You felt the guards attempt to grab your arms, but you wrestled out of them, magic surging through you, providing strength. Your mind went on autopilot, the spells coming easily as you held off the guards with one hand and pointed an accusing finger at Prince Klaus.

"For those who want the truth revealed

Open hearts and secrets unsealed

From now on, until it's now again

After which, the memory ends.

Those who are now in this place

Will hear the truths in time and space."

Klaus stumbled back, the force of your spell knocking him off his feet. You let the guards go, and the force of your suddenly removing your shield caused them to fall on the steps. You took a step towards Klaus.

"Prince Klaus conspired to hurt Crown Prince Elijah in an effort to secure the crown for himself," you announced to the crowd. You don't remember the last time you were this brave. "He utilized witchcraft from one of the visiting nations in order to put Prince Elijah in a deep sleep. As the second eldest brother, the crown would fall to him."

The crowd gasped as Klaus' cheeks grew red, his glare focused on you.

"But Prince Elijah is his brother; he could never kill him. This was the better option. He planned to put it on one of the visiting dignitaries to act as the dutiful brother taking over a post he didn't ask for. Prince Kol started noticing the threats and started investigating, and Prince Klaus knew he needed to pivot. So, he decided to use Prince Kol and me as scapegoats. Positioning the reckless prince and the witch as the enemies."

You took another step towards Klaus, brow raised.

"Isn't that right, Klaus?" you murmured.

"That is all true," Klaus said, eyes widening as he slapped a hand over his mouth. You grinned. Your truth spell would make it so he couldn't lie.

“Niklaus, it’s true?”

Everyone turned to see Prince Elijah, face distraught. He had come out at the end of the confession. You watched Klaus struggle to stop the words from coming out.

"It's not fair that you get to be King," Klaus seethed. You thought you imagined someone fainting. Elijah looked sad, and you felt for him. You didn't want to imagine what it would feel like to have your sibling do something like that to you.

"Please release my brother, Kol," Elijah sighed. "And put Prince Klaus in the dungeons for sentencing. Everyone, please go back inside and enjoy the party while the night is young."

The guards took Klaus inside, the rest rounding up the rest of the guests to give Elijah some time to process. You tried to sneak back inside, but Elijah held up a hand, stopping you.

"You helped my brother discover the spell, correct?" Elijah asked. He was much calmer than Klaus and Kol, much more methodical. You thought its why he would make a better King.

"Yes, Your Highness," you bowed. Elijah stepped closer to you, taking your hand and kissing its back. Your cheeks flushed.

"Thank you for saving me."

"It-It was mostly Prince Kol, Your Highness," you stumbled. "He came to me for help."

"Do not sell yourself short, miss–?" Elijah paused, tilting his head to regard you. You recognized the head tilt as something Kol did as well.

"Y/N, Your Highness."

"Please, call me Elijah," he smiled. He turned towards Kol, who was standing to the side, attempting nonchalance. The desperate look in his eyes betrayed him. Elijah left your side to walk over to Kol's. He offered him his hand.

"Thank you, for protecting me and your family," Elijah smiled. Kol's expression made your heart break. "You are a better Mikaelson than any of us will ever be."

Kol shook his hand, but Elijah pulled him into a hug. He released him just as quickly. He glanced between you and Kol and smiled knowingly. He whispered something to Kol, which caused him to blush. You had never seen the younger prince embarrassed, but you were lying if you said you didn't enjoy it.

"You are welcome at the palace anytime, miss Y/N," Elijah bowed to you. "I expect to see you soon."

He left you outside with Kol. You shuffled on the steps, your bare foot cold against the marble. Kol noticed and held up your shoe.

"May I?" he asked. You nodded, your voice caught in your throat. He kneeled before you, gently lifting up your ankle and putting the shoe back on. His touch was somehow both cold and hot, the skin on his hands rough from use. The image of him kneeling before you was enough to send your heart tumbling. He stood up, giving you a grin.

"You saved my family."

"You say 'save' as if I singlehandedly figured this out," you said. "It was you as well."

"I provided wine," he laughed. "You provided the knowledge."

"At least Prince Klaus didn't intend to kill your brother," you shrugged. "Although, I know that doesn't truly offer any consolation."

"It doesn't," Kol agreed. "But it'll be okay. Because of you."

"You both are putting a lot of pressure on me."

"I can't help it," Kol shrugged. He took your hands in his, brushing his fingers over your knuckles. "You're a vision."

"You don't have to talk to me now that the job is done," you breathed, looking down at your hands. Your heart clenched in preparation for rejection.

"What makes you think you aren't stuck with me?" Kol smirked. "I've spent years looking for someone like you."

"A witch?"

"A princess."

He looked at you with a molten intensity that set your insides to ash. You wondered if you were on fire with how hot he made you. You opened and closed your mouth, unable to respond. Kol lifted your hand to his lips, kissing every single finger with a determination that made you melt.

"You can't be… I'm nobody," you stuttered, but Kol grinned, holding his hands to his chest.

"I started to fall in love with you from the first day," Kol answered smoothly. "My brother all but begged me to propose to you. You are not a nobody to me."

“But…I…”

"Most marriages have been built on less," Kol cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. "Gods know I would've been betrothed to some boring noble woman."

"I…" you had no words. You couldn't say you loved him yet, but you knew you were dangerously close to it. All those hours and days spent together, every conversation and stolen laughter. You felt genuine terror when they started dragging him away. You knew that by saying yes, you were all but solidifying your heart as his forever. You found you weren't afraid of it. You found it made you feel free. "...Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'll marry you," you breathed. "Kol–"

He cut you off with a kiss like he had been a starving man and you were an oasis. You had never been kissed before; your only expectations were those from the gossip you heard around the market. This was infinitely better than all of those. One hand cupped your cheek while the other gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, sighing. He took that opportunity to deepen the kiss. You felt like you could kiss him forever.

He pulled away to your mild protest. "You are a vision in this dress. If I were a worse man, I'd take it off of you."

"Kol," you protested, giving him a warning glare. He just chuckled, kissing you again.

"I'm all yours, darling. All yours."

taglist: @mayfieldss @rafecameronswhore @evasmlp @thefutureastronaut

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #nate buzz #daniel sharman #tvdu #tvd #the originals #mikaelson family #ficmas #ficmas 2024 #my writing

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everestgale · 7 months ago

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Hello! Hiya! And welcome! I'm Everest (they/them, the picture is outdated), but I also go by EG, Gale, Ev, and more. I'm a hobbyist artist and animator; I love creating characters and writing/drawing stories about them! ✨

IMPORTANT LINKS & NOTES:

YouTube - this is where I have all of my animations :>

Voice designs - Skeptic - Hunted - [Other voice references coming soon!]

Collective tag for design references is [#eg voices refs]

Also under the tag [#voice designs], but that includes various sketches/design concepts, old versions of my voices, random character design yap, and so on!

ART STATUS:

Commissions - closed indefinitely

Art trades & collabs - please ask! I really love doing those when I have time! <3

Requests - currently closed

MAIN TAGS:

art - any and all art I make

animation - ranging from quick doodles to full-length AMVs

comic - ranging from quick doodles to multi-page comics

eg chatting - any text post from me

eg favorites - personal tag where I keep anything I particularly like <3

ask - self-explanatory :]

reblog - also self-explanatory :]

gift - <3

MAIN FANDOM & TAGS:

My main fandom is Slay the Princess! Because that's primarily what I make, I try to categorize and tag it as best I can:

slay the princess - anything that I make StP-related (usually art, but also includes some text posts/writing)

stp fanart - any and all StP fanart

stp writing - occasional writing snippets/fics!

stp princess - my art of the princesses/vessels

stp voices - my art of the voices

other people's voices - my art of other people's voice designs :>

SLAY THE PRINCESS AUs / HEADCANONS / SHIPS:

stp au - general tag for anything related to any of my AUs

stp headcanons - general tag for various StP character headcanons, usually voices, and usually in a post-ending scenario

stp soul eater au - a crossover AU for Slay the Princess x Soul Eater created by @/pink-november! My fanart for it lives in this tag!

ddpc au OR ddpc - a collaboration AU for Slay the Princess x Doki Doki Literature Club! Features my voices in roles of DDLC characters :]

red petals au - EG's post-construct AU where through a series of misunderstandings, Smitten almost kills Opportunist, and Opportunist has to go through the lengthy recovery with Skeptic's help. Yes, this is a Skeptunist AU. No, I am not sorry /silly

pinecones and pokemon - a silly Pokemon AU where voices are Pokemon trainers. A vessel variant "princesses and pokemon" is also in the works!

sharper edges au - a post-Stranger Unknown Together AU where Hero and Contrarian discover that other voices are stuck in their respective Chapter 3 cabins, and are now have to find a way to rescue everyone

humanization - temporary tag that features art of my human voice designs, plus some lore/headcanons; this tag will update once this AU has an actual name!

voice shipping - any art/writing/etc that features shipping between voices

skeptunist - Skeptic / Opportunist, my main voice ship, I am exceptionally normal about this ship 🙂‍↕️

To find something for a specific character, the tag is "stp X", where X is a one-word name for the character. For example, Voice of the Hero is tagged under stp hero, while Princess and the Dragon is tagged under stp dragon. The only exceptions to the one-word rule are Moment of Clarity (stp moment of clarity) and Happily Ever After (stp happily ever after).

Thank you for stopping by! I hope you like what I make and decide to stick around :]

Last updated: June 14th, 2025

#intro post #meet the artist #eg chatting #tags for faster navigation:#slay the princess #stp fanart #stp princess #stp voices #stp au #stp headcanons #voice designs #art #tags for personal use:#to draw #to check #eg favorites

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selfshipyellowpages · 7 months ago

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Selfship Batch Two Is Up!

We've now got 38 blogs on The Selfship Yellow Pages! Reblog this post or this one to be included in an upcoming addition!

Please let me know if there's any typos, missing links, or if you'd prefer certain F/Os to be listed or unlisted! You can review my friendly reminders here, but in general be kind and enjoy!

The Yellow Pages currently features: 38 blogs, 67 fandoms, and I have 245 additional fandoms on stand-by waiting for a second person to share them. Current most popular selfship fandoms are BNHA and Marvel, with 7 selfshippers in each!

Added in this round:

@markbeakskisser @akashicdestiny @rhythmgame-yume @gojoslittlemonster @snow-white-ravens @tothemoon-ships @echoes-lighthouse @yumesei @selfmadescientist @caesarsprincess-selfship @blushingyandere @i-put-the-s4p-in-s4pphic @addie-cattie @lumiosenights @edgeworthsglasses @adoredbyalatus @starshroom-doodles @fuka-petals

#selfship #selfship yellow pages #the fandoms really are increasing exponentially huh #i wonder if they'll plateau or just keep increasing #help with checking my links is appreciated #i'm working fast!

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drarryspecificrecs · 2 years ago

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