#his head piece is maybe different now but im going to draw him. hes so funny<3

[pearlzier]

────⠀ ⠀FRESH LOVIN' w/ CHRIS.

NOTES .ᐣ ana writing chris ????? its a literal miracle..... yeah hes been lookin a little too good lately... also ive been thinking of this for weeks now so uhh yeah !

WARNINGS .ᐣ p in v. uhhh dirty talk. afab!reader. no protection 🙀. im not great at writing chris i dont think... better at writin matt but i tried.

IT SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN AS AROUSING AS IT WAS to see you wearing his merch. chris gives you the pieces you like for free anyway, you're his girlfriend—half of the time you help with the designing process anyway. so he's used to seeing you in.. well, his brand. the sight of 'fresh love' written across your chest is nice, he likes it a lot, but he's used to seeing it when you're with him. you'd told him plenty of times that the hoodies and shirts are super comfortable, so you wore them often.

so that is exactly why he was so confused as to why the sight of you modelling his merch made his dick as hard as it did. it wasn't.. that different. was it? he doesn't get it. maybe it's the professionalism of the photos, or just how official it all is. that's his girlfriend wearing his brand. no one else's—just his. a funny feeling fizzes in his abdomen, a warm feeling flooding his chest. both of those things at the instance he sees your pretty body wearing something he created.

his baby wearing his baby—that kind of thing. its corny, sure, but still. it made his head all murky and fuzzy, and his jeans tighten around him so uncomfortably it was impossible to ignore it. being at the photoshoot was a fucking nightmare, let alone seeing the photos all over instagram. people loved the photos, of course they did, you looked really good in them, and yeah, he loved them a lot too. which was why it was agony going on any social to find the exact thing that gives him a raging hard-on.

it was merely a coincidence that you'd walked in wearing merely a fresh love shirt and not much else. he lets out a low groan at the sight of you, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip for a moment with his eyes raking up and down your figure. matt and nick weren't in, the entire reason you were wearing so little, so.. it wouldn't be completely wrong of him to have you bent over the couch due to your little get up, right? he's hoping so, since that's the only thing clouding his brain right now.

"actin' like you're not just as bad as me," he mutters, scoffing in return as you'd done previously. "actin' like your panties ain't soaked."

"you're starin'," he glances up at your words, his blue eyes wide and surprised for a moment before a smirk flits at his plush lips. yeah, of course he's staring. your nipples are hard beneath the cotton of the shirt, poking out a little and drawing his attention directly to them. soon, his eyes drop down to the curve of your ass beneath your underwear. slowly, he slides his hand down to adjust himself over his sweats with a quiet grunt.

"can you blame a guy?" chris murmurs, biting his tongue for a minute before he looks you up and down. "bein' such a fuckin' tease walkin' 'round like that," you scoff at his words, a soft smile playing on your own lips. a tilt of your head, and you're looking him up and down too. he looks good, he always does, but he does look really good. folding your arms beneath your chest, you lean against the kitchen island. "we both know you're soaked, baby." his words are practically a growl.

"you ain't got any proof," you grumble, feeling a surge of heat pool between your legs despite your own words. he wasn't wrong, you know, and he knows that too. all you wanted was to make something to eat, albeit wearing the least amount of clothing possible, but sure.

his smirk widens, "no? do you want me to check?" he knows you're wet, he can see it. from the way your thighs press together and how you're a little stiff whilst wandering around. all tell tale signs that you're just as horny as he is. "you're drippin', baby. don't even try to pretend with me," chris is quiet for a moment, before he pushes up off of the couch slowly. his eyes rake over your frame, and it only makes you feel more flustered in a way.

"don't gotta check 'cause i ain't wet," you mumble immediately, your skin warming up. you're lying through your teeth right now, and chris knows it. he knows you better than literally anyone, even if you don't want to admit it. trying to focus your mind on anything other than well, that, you turn away to open up the fridge and get something to eat. chris is making his way over, eventually standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest.

chris chuckles quietly, a low and rich sound. wandering a little closer to you, he stops right behind you with a click of his tongue. you shiver almost immediately when his hand slides over your side, skimming towards the swell of your chest. "liar," he murmurs, letting his nose trail along the skin of your neck lazily as he draws you a little closer to him. "you're always drenched for me, just as much of a mess as i am."

your eyes flutter over to him for a second before you swallow hard, "ain't a liar," you insist, head tilting to the side a little bit at the feel of his head by the crook of your neck. but back to the food, you tried to will yourself, as you bent over to grab a cutting board from a lower drawer. "yeah, can feel you pokin' my thigh with that ragin' hard-on of yours." chris scoffs at that, corners of his lips flitting up at the corners in a lazy smirk.

"s'not exactly a trade secret, is it?" chris mumbles with soft amusement, leaving gentle, warm kisses over the skin of your neck. his hands roaming gently over you doesn't stop him from pulling you back into him. he presses up against you as you're bent over, slowly rocking his hips up against you with a small, strained noise escaping him.

"you feel what you do to me, princess?" was pretty hard not to.

a soft gasp followed by a soft moan escapes you, "chris—" and you grasp at the drawer to keep yourself steady. a shaky breath slips past your lips and you feel it soon hitch in your throat. "don't," in the kitchen? matt and nick could walk in at any moment, you knew, but chris seemed like he didn't care at all, actually.

"don't what, baby?" he coos, taking a breath as he slowly alides his hands down to your hips. at the same time, his own hips grind enticingly into your ass, his aching erection pushing up against you. he needed you so bad. there, in the middle of the kitchen, he shamelessly grinds up against you. "don't what? don't touch you, don't make you feel good, don't love you?"

you let out this pretty moan, folding your arms beneath you to lean up against the counter. "no, no, no—mmh," you wanted him to keep going, you knew he'd make you feel good, he always did. made it his mission, actually. chris grind at your words, head tilting to the side a little bit now. "keep goin', please," well, you don't have to ask him twice, he'd do anything you asked of him.

"mhm.." chris hums quietly, considering whether he should take off the shirt so he can get his hands all over you before he decides not to. the shirt's the appeal, seeing you wearing something he made. fucking you in something he made. "keepin' this on," he adds, letting you know what was going on in his head.

as much as he'd usually keep you waiting, he was far too pent up to do so now. he lets go of your hips momentarily, his free hand moving to his sweats already hanging low on his hips to push them down a little bit to free his cock. a groan escapes him at being exposed, and he shuts his eyes for a minute when he wraps his hand around at the base and gives himself a languid stroke. he could get off right here at the sight of your ass clad in pretty panties pushed up against him like that, but the warmth of your cunt was a safety he couldn't deny.

"probably soaked all the way through these panties of yours, huh?" at the sound you let out, he smiles a little more, his hand slipping inside your panties almost immediately to test his theory. his fingers slowly start to brush against your clit, feeling how slick you are from just his words alone. "told you," you're sopping wet, and he loves it. his head tilts to the side a little, and he applies a little more pressure before gliding his fingers through your slick folds. biting his bottom lip at your sounds, he groans.

"chris, shit," you mewl softly, hips slowly bucking up towards his fingers as he pushed them up against you. he lets his thumb brush against your entrance, gliding over it easily before he glances back over at you. "that's it, let me feel you," for a few long moments, he makes tight circles over your bundle of nerves before his impatience gets the best of him. "feels so good—"

"i know, mmh, gotta feel you, baby," he tells you, tugging down your panties in a swift movement. you gasp quietly at the cold air hitting against your warm folds, and secondly at the feel of his cock pushing against your entrance. he's gentle, always is, his free hand moving to hold you steady at your hip. "you alright?"

you swallow hard, trying to figure out a way to say it without sounding desperate as all hell. "uh, yeah, yeah," you nod, shifting your hips back against him to feel him properly. a laugh escapes chris, and he hums, slowly easing himself inside you with a little buck of his hips. his hand moves to join his other one at your hips and he groans gutterly, eyes squeezing shut. "so fuckin' tight, baby."

"holy shit," you're clenching on him like a damn vice already, a moan escaping you as well in a similar fashion to chris'. he takes his time with it, lifting his hand from your hip to place it on the kitchen counter and grasp at it to keep him steady. he soon enough buries inside you to the hilt, hands roaming over your hips and ass, occasionally squeezing as he looks you up and down.

"such a dirty little thing, aren't you?" slowly, he shifts his hips back so just his throbbing tip is inside you, before he snaps his hips forward again so he's back to where he was moments prior. the sounds you let out practically have him coming right there, but he's got enough restraint to hold on for maybe a few minutes more. "lettin' me fuck you in the kitchen against the counter, knowin' anyone could walk in."

his words barely register to you with how he thrusts in and out of you, practically molding your insides to fit him, taking him so good like you do every damn time. "chris, mmh—! feels so.. ah, shit—!" your tits bounce beneath the fresh love shirt, drawing his eyes there almost immediately. he moves his free hand to cup your chest, thumbs circling over your hardened nipples and pinching momentarily.

"can't even think straight, can you? too busy thinkin' 'bout my cock, mmh.. i know it feels good, baby, feels right," chris keeps up the pace of his thrusts, practically pounding you up against the counter. "feels so, fuckin', good," he punctuates each of his words with a sharp buck of his hips, but making sure that you didn't hurt yourself in any way and holding you up.

"can't.. think straight," you agree breathily, practically panting with every push of his hips and feel of your pussy tightening around him. you shut your eyes, lashes fluttering as you practically squeal around him. "can't think straight, that's right. just focused on makin' a mess on my cock," and making a mess you were, feeling that burst of pleasure as he brought you over the edge.

soon, he got there too, the movements of his hips stuttering as he let out out a low sound, finally coming to a stop once he'd stuffed you full of his cum. "did so good for me," he murmurs. eyes darting up to yours when he managed to coax your eyes open with his hand. "did perfect.."

"yeah?" you ask, voice all airy and breathless. you feel so warm and fuzzy, a bliss washing over you. with a soft sound, you relax against the counter with his help and the feel of him easing out of you. his eyes dart down to his release leaking out of your hole, and he hums quietly, letting his hand trail back down and circle his thumb around the mess he'd made for a moment.

"and i thought you were hungry, baby."

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @dayzeandhaze, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @55sturn, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @beetlejenna, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @deansbite, @beridollie, @pr3ttyf4wn, @sincerebabydoll, @pillwebb, @cayleeuhithinknot, @j2ss7, @sweetrelieef, @l3sbiancvnt, @fallbhind, @beausling ִ ꒱

[itneverendshere]

Just saw the new popular movie ’’This ends with us’’ and I beg of you to draw from the actual beautiful love story, so pure! So same concept of the love story: Pouge!Rafe has been kicked out by his mom and her abusive boyfriend, Kook!Reader sees him homeless & hiding. Reader does small acts of kindness, which builds up to a romance but they separate for whatever reason (could be because they get discovered, he joins the military, like the movie, or something different). It could also be reversed with Pouge!Reader instead being homeless, you pick! Years go by, Reader meets an abusive partner, she bumps into a now grown up Rafe. Lots of angst, lingering feelings and longing, he sees the signs of abusive and gets protective. But without the movie plots of reader getting pregnant and married) I adore and worship your writing skills, truly have a gift to make you feel all the emotions!! <3333333

invisible string - r.c series (one)

i loooove this request because pogue!rafe so i decided to turn into a mini series (two or three parts). im personally not a fan of it ends with us, but i love your requests bc it's still very different from the original plot.

pairing: pogue!rafe x kook!sweetheart!reader word count: 6k chapter warnings: domestic violence; absent parents; angst; fluff.

Rafe was born rough around the edges.

There was never any sugar-coating about it; with his hair always messy, sun-bleached and salty, and his hands perpetually stained with the grime of whatever job he'd taken up that week, Rafe Cameron had never known peace. He moved like a stray dog that had learned to fend for itself, his eyes always scanning for trouble. 

Most people kept their distance, and he liked it that way.

There wasn’t much softness in his life. His mom tried her best, he supposed, but that wasn’t saying much. She had a new boyfriend every few months, and they were all the same — mean, drunk, and looking for a fight. Rafe learned early on that if you couldn’t fight back, you were nothing. So he fought. A lot.

He fought the men who walked into their house at night, stinking of cheap whiskey and cigarettes. He fought the kids at school who called him trash, who mocked the way his clothes never quite fit or how he always seemed a little too hungry. But mostly, he fought himself — every time he looked in the mirror and saw his father’s eyes staring back at him. The man who left and never looked back. 

Another piece of shit. 

He kept his head down, kept his hands busy, and kept his mouth shut unless he had something to say. He wasn’t nice. Nice got you nowhere; nice got you used, broken, and left behind. He had seen it too many times to believe otherwise. The world wasn’t a kind place, and he wasn’t a kind guy. 

Most days, he’d finish work covered in sweat and salt, with just enough money in his pocket to get by. He'd dropped out of school years ago and head to the docks, sit on the edge, and smoke a cigarette while the sun dipped below the horizon.

The only real moment of peace he had.

Rafe took what work he could find — fixing up old fishing boats for the few Kooks who’d dare come down his side of the Cut, pulling shrimp nets in the dead hours of the morning, his back aching and his muscles screaming at such a young age, but at least it was better than being home. If he could call it that.

Home, where his mom was probably passed out again, where the latest loser she'd dragged in might be passed out on the couch or looking for a fight.

He could hear them shouting before he even got to the door. His mom’s voice screaming her throat out, and he could hear something crashing inside — a glass, maybe, or a plate. Then came the matching scream of the new boyfriend, Tony or Tommy or something — they all blurred together after a while. Rafe paused on the porch, his hand hovering over the door handle, debating whether it was worth going in at all.

Inside, she was standing in the middle of the living room, her face flushed, her blonde hair a mess. Tony stood over her, fists clenched, his face red and veins bulging in his neck. 

Rafe knew that look. 

He’d seen it before — seen it in a dozen men who thought they could push their weight around, thought they could break whatever they wanted.

“What the hell’s going on?” 

Tony turned, eyes narrowing. “None of your damn business, boy.”

Rafe took a step forward, his fists balling up instinctively. “If it’s in my house, it’s my business.”

His mom spun around to face him, her eyes wild and desperate. “Just stay out of it, Rafe. You always have to make things worse!”

He felt the sting of her words. He should be used to it by now. “I’m not the one who brought this piece of shit in here.”

That was all it took. Tony lunged at him, shoving him hard against the wall. Rafe felt the air rush out of his lungs as pain flared in his back. “You watch your mouth, punk,” Tony hissed, his face inches from his, his breath a disgusting mix of beer and god knows what.

“Or what?” Rafe shot back. If there was one thing he’d learned, it was how to keep his anger in check — at least most of the time.

Tony’s eyes flicked to his mom, like he was making a point, and she just stood there, watching. He’d lost his faith in her a long time ago but it still blew him away how she never lifted a finger to help him. 

“Get out,” she said finally, hand moving to point towards the bust-up wooden door.

“What?” Rafe blinked, caught off guard. He must’ve heard her wrong.

“You heard me. Get out!” She was shouting now, her voice high-pitched and desperate. “I can’t have you here, always stirring things up! You make everything worse!”

It had to be a fucking joke. He was the only one bringing in money to pay the rent, the only one who kept the house clean enough so it wouldn’t look or smell like someone died in there. Paid the hospital bills when they hit her too hard. He did everything, always. 

Tony shoved him again, harder this time, toward the open door. “You heard her. Get the hell out.”

Rafe stumbled backward, catching himself before he fell. He looked at his mom, his chest tightening in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a kid. “You’re really gonna choose him over your own son?”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Just go, Rafe. I can’t do this anymore.”

He forced himself to nod. He almost wanted to laugh. “Fine,” he muttered, pushing past Tony and heading for the door. “Don’t call me when he sends you to the hospital again.”

He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. The moment he stepped outside, the wind hit his face like a slap, the kind that made his eyes sting and his heart pound. Things had never gotten to this point before. He would’ve rather taken a beating then get kicked out. 

He walked, hands stuffed into his pockets. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he couldn’t go back. Not now. Not ever. He’d die before he begged his mother or Tony to let him in that shithole again. His feet took him along the edge of town, past the marina and the fishing docks, and eventually, he found himself in the wealthy part of town, near Figure 8.

It was ironic, almost funny.

The Kooks lived here, the ones who wouldn’t give him the time of day if they saw him on their streets. And here he was, a beat-up pogue, walking right through their territory, angry and suddenly so damn tired.

He spotted an old, abandoned house, sitting at the end of a street where the mansions stood tall and proud. He had walked by it a few times before and noticed it had been empty for years, the paint peeling off in strips, the windows boarded up, and the grass overgrown. He crossed the street, glancing around to make sure no one was watching, and pushed the broken gate open. The hinges squeaked loudly, proving just how long it had been since someone had been there.

The front door was unlocked; it opened with the slightest push. Inside, it smelled of dust and mold, but it was dry, and it was quiet. It was enough. He made his way to a small room in the back, what must have once been a kitchen. There was an old sofa left behind, covered in a dirty sheet. He pulled the sheet off, threw it in a corner, and sank onto the sofá, finally breathing properly. 

He stayed there, staring at the cracked ceiling and the empty walls, wondering how the fuck he was going to get himself out of this one. 

For the two next days, he moved carefully, quietly, in and out of the house. He didn’t want anyone to know he was staying there. He wasn’t getting his ass thrown into jail again. He found a way in through the back window, kept to the dimly lighted areas, and avoided the main roads. He didn't have much — a few changes of clothes, some cash from odd jobs, and his dad’s old pocketknife, the only thing he had left of the bastard.

It was on the third day that he saw you.

He was sitting on the front steps, having a cigarette, when he heard the sound of a bike chain clicking. He glanced up, and there you were — riding a yellow bike, hair pulled back, and eyes glued to him as you pedaled down the street.

He stiffened, quickly stubbing out the cigarette, his heart rate picking up. You were one of them, a Kook, from one of the mansions just a block away. He’d seen you before, always biking around town, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone.

He didn’t know you, didn’t even know your name, but he knew the type.

You saw him, too, and slowed your bike. His first thought was to get up and disappear back into the house, but he knew that would look suspicious. So he stayed put, trying to look casual, as if he belonged there.

You stopped a few feet away, still on your stupid bike, one foot on the ground to steady yourself.

“You live here?” You asked, not in a mean way, just curious.

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” he lied, “Why?”

You shrugged, “Just… didn’t think anyone did. Looks pretty empty.”

He tensed, waiting for you to say something like, “I’m going to tell someone,” or worse, to start asking more questions. But instead, you just gave him another curious look, nodded, and biked away.

Weird girl.

The next day, you were back. This time, you had a bag with you. He watched you approach, wary. You stopped in front of the house and took something out of the bag — a sandwich, wrapped in paper, and a bottle of water.

You held them out to him, a gentle smile on your face, “Figured you might be hungry.”

He thought maybe you were just trying to make yourself feel better, some Kook guilt thing, like feeding the stray cat in the alley so you could pat yourself on the back for being such a nice person.

And he hated that. Hated you for even thinking he needed your stupid charity. So he gave you every reason to leave him alone.

When you handed him that sandwich, he barely even looked at you.

He just grabbed it and then turned his back, heading into the house without another word. But the next day, you were there again. And the next.

He started making it obvious he didn’t want you around. He’d grunt when you said hello, roll his eyes when you tried to make small talk.

One time, you offered him an apple, and he snatched it out of your hand without a word, just to see if you’d get annoyed enough to leave. You didn’t. Like some fucking saint.

Instead, you kept coming back, like some sort of annoying, persistent fly he couldn’t swat away. Every time, your smile was a little nicer, your eyes a little more curious.

He didn't get it. Why the hell were you still trying? Didn’t you get it? He didn’t want you here. Didn’t want to talk to you. Didn’t need shit from a Kook.

“What’s your problem?” he muttered one day when you showed up with a bag of groceries.

You blinked, “What do you mean?”

“You keep coming back here like I asked you to. I didn’t. I don’t need your charity.”

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, still not leaving. “I’m not doing charity. I jut figured you could use a little help.”

He scoffed, turning his back on you again. “I don’t need anything from you, princess.”

You hesitated, then placed the bag on the steps anyway. “Well, it’s here if you do.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes again. “Great. Another pity gift from the rich kid. Thank you so much,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You clenched your jaw, but still didn’t leave. He expected you to finally get the hint, but you just shook your head and walked away.

The next day, you there you were. And the day after that. Always bringing something, always with that same annoying, stubborn smile.

By the end of the week, he was done. You rolled up with another bag, and before you could even open your mouth, he let out a loud groan, throwing his head back. 

"For fuck’s sake, don’t you have anything better to do than bother me every damn day?”

That was it — you snapped.

Your eyes flared, and you stepped in closer, voice getting louder. "Will you just eat the damn food before I throw it in your face?" You shouted, cheeks going red with frustration.

He blinked, caught off guard. He didn’t expect you to clap back.

You’d been silent and too sweet for his liking. Most Kooks would’ve run back to their fancy houses by now, but you were still standing your ground, fists clenched, breathing heavy. Cute.

He almost laughed. Almost. “What’s your deal? You think you’re some kind of hero bringing food to the poor pogue? You think you're gon' save me or something?”

You glared at him “I’m not trying to save you, jerk! I’m just trying to be a decent human! Maybe you should try it sometime!”

He stared at you, face set in a deadpan, but he felt something— something he hadn’t felt in a while. Respect, maybe? But for some reason, he didn’t tell you to get lost.

Instead, he snatched the bag out of your dainty small hand. “Fine. I’ll eat your stupid food. But don’t think this changes anything,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Oh, trust me, I don’t.”

You both stood there in this weird silence for a minute, glaring at each other. Then you shook your head, and smiled like you hadn’t read him to filth ten seconds ago. “See you tomorrow, Rafe.”

What? You knew his name?

He watched as you rode away and he realized he was grinning, just a bit. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel completely alone.

And somehow, that pissed him off even more.

Days turned into weeks, and you kept showing up, like a plague.

No matter how much Rafe grumbled, no matter how many times he rolled his eyes or muttered under his breath, you just kept coming back. It was always something small — fruit, a bottle of water, a warm meal in a container. Every time you showed up, you had that same stubborn look in your eyes, like you weren’t going to back down no matter how much he pushed you away.

He hated to admit it, but he started to look forward to your little visits. He hated even more that he noticed things about you. Like how your hair fell in your face when you leaned over to hand him something or how your laugh sounded when he said something sarcastic. He noticed the way you seemed to care, even when he made it clear he didn’t want you to.

One day, you showed up with a duffel bag. Rafe looked at you suspiciously as you parked your bike and slung the bag over your shoulder.

“What now?” he grunted, eyeing the bag like it might bite him.

He could tell you were nervous and that weirded him out even more. Since when could he read your mind? 

“I was thinking… maybe you’d want to come to my house. Just to shower and get some real rest. My parents are out of town, and y’know, you could use it.”

He stared at you like you’d grown another head. “You want me to come to your house?”

You nodded, looking a little unsure now, hands tightening around the bag’s strap, “Yeah. Just for a bit. I thought you might like a break from this place.”

He scoffed. “And why the hell would I want to do that? You think I’m gonna be some charity case you can parade around to make yourself feel good?”

You sighed, clearly getting frustrated. “No, Rafe. I just thought… I just thought you might want a hot shower. But if you don’t, that’s fine.”

He usually cleaned himself up near the docks, but the water was freezing during this time of the year. Every time it felt like his balls were going to drop to the floor. So yeah, a hot shower in a big mansion sounded tempting.

Even if he didn’t want to give you that satisfaction.

A hot shower… a real bed, even for a little while. He hadn’t had that in what felt like forever. He looked at you again, trying to figure out if this was some kind of sick twisted plan, but all he saw were those stupid glowing eyes staring him down like he’d be dumb to refuse you. 

“Fine,” he muttered, standing up. “But just for a shower. And if you try anything weird, ’m outta there.”

Your nose scrunched up, “As if.”

Your house was everything he expected from a Kook — big, clean, and way too fancy. He felt out of place the moment he stepped through the gigantic door, like he was tracking mud on a white carpet. You led him upstairs, pointing out the bathroom.

“You can use this one. Towels are in the cabinet, and I’ll leave some clothes outside if you want them.”

Rafe grunted in response, still unsure why he was even there. He went into the bathroom and locked the door, leaning against it for a moment. The place smelled like lavender or some other fancy soap he couldn’t name. He turned on the shower, and the hot water poured out instantly, filling the room with steam.

He stripped off his dirty clothes and stepped under the water, hissing as the heat hit his skin. But then he relaxed, letting the water wash away the grime, the salt, the exhaustion he’d been carrying for so long. He stayed under the spray longer than he should have, almost losing track of time.

When he finally got out, he saw the clothes you’d left outside the door — a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, nothing flashy, but clean. He put them on and headed back downstairs, finding you in the kitchen, making coffee.

You looked up when he entered, “Feel better?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

You handed him a cup of coffee, and he took it reluctantly, still waiting for the catch. But you just sat across from him at the kitchen island, sipping your own cup, not saying anything.

He found himself watching you, noticing the little things again.

The way you tucked your hair behind your ear, the way your fingers tapped against the mug when you were thinking. He hated that he was noticing, hated that he found any of it interesting. He took a sip of the coffee and scowled when it tasted good, because of course it did.

“You do this shit for everyone?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You looked at him, “What do you mean?”

“This.” He gestured around. “Invite random guys to your house, make them coffee, act like you care.”

You laughed, a light sound that made his chest feel weird. “No. Just you.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just looked away, taking another sip of coffee. He didn’t do nice. He wasn’t used to nice. This was weird.

You kept doing these little things for him — small acts of kindness he didn’t ask for and definitely didn’t deserve. You’d leave extra food by the house when you knew he’d be there, sometimes even a blanket or a pillow you said you didn’t need. You’d offer to let him use the house again, and every once in a while, he’d accept, hating how much he craved the simple comfort of a shower or a bed.

And all the while, he stayed the same — gruff, sarcastic, always trying to push you away with his attitude. But you didn’t go. You took his crap and came back.

One night, after a particularly rough day where everything seemed to go wrong, he found himself standing outside your house again. Your parents were out of town again, and he didn’t have anywhere else to go. He hated that he was here, hated that he needed this, but he knocked anyway.

You opened the door, your face lit up with that familiar smile. “Rafe,” you said, voice warm. “Come in.”

He liked the way his name sounded on your lips.

He hesitated, but he did. You led him to the living room, and he noticed a few things this time — the family photos on the walls, a vase of flowers on the table, the soft throw blanket on the couch.

Your home was nothing like his, but it felt… safe.

They sat in silence for a while, and he noticed how you didn’t bother him with questions, didn’t try to fix anything. You just sat there, close but not too close, letting him breathe. He found himself looking at you more, catching the way your lips curled up at the corners, how your eyes seemed to soften whenever they landed on him. He felt something strange, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He sat on that big couch, staring at his busted-up hands, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest. You were just a few feet away, eyes flicking over to him now and then, like you were waiting for him to speak. But he didn’t know what to say.

He felt… uncomfortable. Not because of the place, or you. No, never because of you. But because of this strange feeling that kept crawling up his spine, making him feel restless.

You were sitting on the arm of the chair, legs tucked under you, looking at him with that familiar, gentle expression that made him feel like maybe he wasn’t such a screw-up. He didn’t know what to do with that. You were the kind of girl who should have nothing to do with him. Yet here you were, again and again, showing up, like you didn’t know any better.

He cleared his throat, trying to push back whatever weird tension was building between you. “So… your parents,” he muttered. “They’re out of town a lot?”

You nodded, sighing, “Yeah. They travel for work. I’m used to it.”

“Must be nice,” he said, but his voice came out rougher than what he was going for. He didn’t know how to do gentle and he was still half-convinced you were going to kick him out or tell him you had enough of his crap.

“Sometimes,” you replied, “But it gets lonely, too.”

He wasn’t expecting that. He glanced at you trying to read you. He knew you weren’t looking for sympathy; you were just stating a fact.

He wasn’t sure what made him ask, but he did anyway. “Why do you keep helping me?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I— I don’t know. I guess… I just see something in you. Something good.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “There’s nothin' good in me.”

“There is,” you insisted. “I see it. Even if you don’t.”

He felt his chest tighten, and he had to look away. “You’re wrong.”

“Maybe,” you said quietly, “but I don’t think so.”

He feel your eyes on him, could feel the way his pulse was racing under his skin. He hated it. Hated that he wanted to believe you, wanted to feel whatever it was you seemed to see in him.

“You’re too good,” he muttered. “Too good for someone like me.”

You laughed softly. “You don’t know me as well as you think, Rafe.”

He glanced up, surprised by the boldness in you. You were so soft most days it always threw him off when you took the reins. You were closer now, leaning forward just slightly, eyes fixed on his. He felt that breathtaking tension tightening again.

Before he could think better of it, he spoke, voice coming out meeker than what he was going for, “You really think there’s somethin' good in me?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of him for a second, “Yeah, I do.”

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know what possessed him, but before he could stop himself, he reached out, his hand finding yours. You didn’t pull away. Didn’t flinch in fear or scrunched up your nose in disgust.

Instead, your fingers tightened around his, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Why?” he asked again, desperate.

 “Because I just do.”

Something snapped in him then, something he’d been holding back for too long. He moved closer, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your delicate skin. You didn’t pull away again, only leaning into his touch. 

He hesitated, just for a moment. “I’m not— I-I’m not a good guy,” he murmured.

You smiled again, softer this time, the way he hoped you only did for him, “I don’t need you to be.”

He didn’t get it, but he didn’t have time to figure it out.

He leaned in and kissed you. It was clumsy at first — just a touch of lips, a bit hesitant. But then you kissed him back and suddenly he understood those stupid cliché novels his mom used to read when he was younger. He’d never kissed anyone before. 

He was too aware of how inexperienced they both were, of the way his lips barely brushed against yours. He felt stiff and unsure, like he didn’t know if he was doing it right. But it felt right. It wasn’t smooth or perfect — there was hesitancy and uncertainty, but it was real. He felt your hand touch his cheek, your fingers warm and trembling just a little.

His hand slid from your cheek down to your neck, pulling you closer, fingers curling into your hair. He couldn’t get enough. It was messy, frantic, his heart racing like it was trying to break out of his chest, and for once, he didn’t care. He felt your breath hitch against his lips, the warmth of you pressing into him, and all the walls he’d built up, all the reasons he’d given himself to push you away, disappeared. 

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his old shirt like you didn’t want to let go, and that did something to him. Made him feel more alive than he had in a long time. Every time he kissed you, it was like he was drowning in you, like nothing else mattered except for this — your lips, your skin, the way your body pressed against his.

He pulled away, just for a second, eyes wide and breathing heavy, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

He looked at you, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and wet from the kiss, and damn, you looked beautiful. More beautiful than he ever let himself admit before.

But then you smiled, that same heart-shattering smile, and it was like you were pulling him back in, “You don’t have to be afraid,” you whispered.

“I’m not…” he started, but even he didn’t believe it. Because he was. He was terrified as hell of this, of you, of the way you made him feel like he wasn’t a complete mess. But before he could say more, you kissed him again, and this time, he didn’t hold back.

He didn’t think about what he should or shouldn’t be doing, didn’t overanalyze the way his hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you closer until there wasn’t any space left between you. You melted into him, your body warm and soft, like you belonged there and he felt like he was burning up from the inside out.

His hands roamed, exploring, memorizing the curve of your waist, the way your body fit so perfectly against his. Every little sound you made, every breathless gasp, made him feel like he was on fire.

You broke apart again, both of you panting, and he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath.

“This is crazy,” he muttered, his voice all shaky.

You giggled, the sound making his chest tighten in the best way.

“Maybe. But I don’t care.”

He opened his eyes, staring into yours, and he knew you meant it.

You didn’t care about the Kook vs. Pogue thing, about the stupid rules that had been drilled into them from birth. You just cared about him. He didn’t know how to let himself want something good, something real. But he wanted you. God, did he want you.

From that night on, everything changed. 

You started seeing each other in secret, meeting up when your parents were out of town or sneaking off to some hidden spot by the beach at night where no one would find you. Every time he saw you, it was like a high he couldn’t get enough of. You’d kiss, talk, hold each other like you were the only two people in the world, and he’d forget about all the shit in his life. Forget about the fact that he was supposed to be a screw-up who didn’t deserve someone like you.

You sat side by side at the dock, feet dangling just above the water, the tips of your shoes barely touching the surface. Something was calming about the sound of the gentle waves lapping against the dock, the world feeling small and distant for once, like it was just the two of you.

He leaned back on his hands, staring out at the horizon, not saying much. He’d been quiet today, more so than usual. You nudged him lightly with your shoulder.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He snorted, shaking his head slightly. “You don’t want ‘em. They’re not worth much.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him again. “C’mon. You’ve been quiet all day. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He hesitated, glancing down at the water, his fingers curling into the wood of the dock. He was biting back whatever was eating at him. He wasn’t the type to open up easily, you knew that, but he wanted to, for you. You wanted to know him, all of him, not just the fake exterior he put up for everyone else to see.

“You ever think about… like, how different your life would be if shit didn’t go so sideways?” he asked, his voice low, almost like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud.

You frowned, turning to face him, “What do you mean?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair.

“My mom, she… she used to date these losers. Real pieces of shit, y’know? Guys who’d roll through, thinking they owned the place, treating me like I was some kind of burden just because I was around.”

It wasn’t easy for him to say it, but he was doing it anyway, like the words had been stuck inside him for years.

“She didn’t really care what they did. As long as they paid for her booze, she was cool with whatever. They’d knock me around sometimes, tell me I wasn’t worth shit. But she never did anything about it.” He paused, swallowing hard, his gaze fixed on the water because he couldn’t look at you. “One of ‘em got real bad. Fucker hit me so hard one night, I thought I was gonna pass out. And when I told her… she didn’t care. Told me I was a liar. Said I probably deserved it.”

“Rafe…” you whispered, reaching out to take his hand. He didn’t pull away this time, just let you hold it, his fingers squeezing yours a little too tightly.

“I tried to stick it out,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Tried to stay for as long as I could. But one day, she kicked me out. Told me I was too much trouble, and she didn’t need me around anymore.” He laughed, but it was hollow, bitter. “I guess I wasn’t worth the space I took up.”

You were quiet. He liked that about you, that you didn’t try and get his thoughts out of his head, just let him do his thing, on his own time. There was nothing that could make up for the kind of pain he’d been through. You just squeezed his hand tighter, and he just knew you wished you could take some weight off his shoulders.

“That’s why you were in that house?” You brushed your lips against his shoulder.

“Yeah.”

It was hard for him to talk about this stuff. Hell, it was hard for him to talk at all when it came to anything real. You just sat there, holding his hand, being there. That was what made you different. Most people didn’t wait for him. They’d get frustrated, give up, move on.

You just... stayed. And that scared him almost as much as it comforted him.

“You didn’t deserve that.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. Deserve’s got nothin’ to do with it.”

You shifted closer, your knees touching his now. “It matters to me.”

He didn’t understand how you could look at him like that, like he was worth something.

“You knew my name.”

You nodded, “You delivered fresh seafood to the house once.”

His eyes nearly popped out from their sockets, “I was fourteen.”

“Yeah?”

“And you remembered that?”

Your brows shot up like he’d said the dumbest thing ever. “Obviously.”

His breath caught, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, pulling you into his lap. His hands found your waist, desperate, almost frantic, holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

"You shouldn’t—" he started, but the words died on his lips because you were already kissing him, and it was like everything stopped. The world, his thoughts, all the shit that weighed him down. It was just you, your lips, the way your hands tangled in his hair, and the soft sounds you made against his mouth.

He kissed you harder, more urgently, like he was trying to prove something to himself — that he could have this, that he could deserve this. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His lips moved against yours and he felt like he was falling apart and putting himself back together all at once.

When he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his chest was heaving, and you were looking at him with that same softness that made his stomach twist.

"How—How the hell did I get this lucky?" His voice cracked, just a little. He hadn’t meant to say it, but the words spilled out anyway. 

You smiled, brushing your thumb across his cheek, and he realized then that his face was wet. He hadn’t even noticed the tears slipping down, hadn’t noticed the way he was trembling.

"You deserve this" you whispered. 

That was it.

That was the breaking point. A choked sob escaped him, and before he could stop himself, he crashed his lips against yours again, kissing you so hard it hurt, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t hold back the way he felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. For you.

His hands cupped your face, fingers trembling as he kissed you again and again, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he stopped. 

And as his tears mixed with your kiss, he realized that for the first time in his life, he wasn’t running.

He wasn’t pushing you away. He was falling, hard and fast, and he didn’t care. Because for once, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

[azullumi]

summary — cuddling times with you and him.

characters — kaveh, alhaitham, tighnari, cyno, wanderer (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, cuddling, established relationship, not proofread; headcanons

words — 1373

note — trying to get back to writing after like being stressed for the past few days but im fine now but anyways, have this ^^

kaveh

He's a very cuddly man and he always have the time to cuddle, often wanting to keep you close to him even if it's just in those small and simple moments like sleeping together underneath the same sheets—thus he doesn't have any favorite position as long as he gets to feel you so closely against him.

He doesn't mind either being the big spoon or the small spoon, it all just depends on the mood to be honest. If he wishes to be comforted or protected, he'll rather be the one being held and if it's just his normal sappy mood or if he wants to become something like a protective figure to you as you try to sleep, he's going to be the big spoon.

He's so insufferably clingy, always wanting to kiss, hug, and cuddle as much as possible—he wouldn't let another day pass without him not getting to feel your warmth in his arms and being comforted as he dwells in your peace. He just loves the idea of how intimate and affectionate a simple action could be, of how it can bring two different people closer, of how a peaceful and silent moment could be so loud and be filled with love, and he loves it more because he's doing and spending it with you.

If he would be given a chance for the two of you to be one, snuggling and merging one another like puzzle pieces settling on the board and forming an image, he would instantly grab on it but this is the closest he’ll ever get and even if it's only that, he'll take it.

alhaitham

He can and he will cuddle you in any situation despite not asking for it, he just always tries to cuddle as much as he can. 

One moment, you'll be walking around the room while trying to accomplish something then the next he's pulling you towards him and you find yourself in a position where your back is facing him and he's wrapping his arms around you as he tries to fall asleep, having you as some sort of pillow that gives him all the comfort and warmth he needs. You just find yourself often being disturbed or distracted because of how needy he gets.

Taking a break from any activities or tasks like studying or just resting overall will only lead you to on a bed or a couch—or maybe on the floor if you two are fine with the cold and hard feeling of it—and being in each other's cradle, embraced and locked in one another's arms as you silently breath against one another, sharing one's thoughts, and exchanging gentle and tender words.

While snuggled in each other's embrace, he loves to talk and listen to you do so and oftentimes, cuddling times with you ends up in a discussion about any topics that could be strange or weird—yet you still entertain each other—it varies and it's a wonder that you two never seem to run out of ideas inside your head; "Have you ever thought about how a snake would walk if it has legs? Will it have two and walk while standing or will it have four or more? Honestly, how many legs will it even have?"

wanderer

Always chooses to be the big spoon, however, if the roles were to be switched and he’s the one being cradled and held in one’s arms instead, he wouldn’t mind and would, in fact, love it—although he wouldn’t outright admit it. Perhaps he had never told you about how he feels safe in your arms, being comforted by the sense of security you give him as if you’re protecting him from any harm that comes to threaten but you you could tell it from the way he just lets you wrap your arms around him without complaint and cradle him like a small child.

He can get extremely touchy, his hands not settling on a single spot and would often be roaming around your body, trailing your skin, playing with your fingers, drawing shapes on the back of your palm, and everything. He just wishes to feel all of you, every inch of you, and he takes this moment when the two of you are nestled in each other's arms as a chance.

He loves it when he sneaks his hand, especially when it's feeling cold, underneath your shirt and feeling your skin on his palm which catches you off-guard and startles you—seeing your reaction makes him chuckle every time. He wouldn't remove his hand though if you were to say so, only reasoning that he needs to keep both he and his hands warm even if it's not that cold.

He would complain how his arms are feeling sore already but try to even budge and move away and he'll raise an eyebrow at you, asking you what you are trying to do—I mean, he never said or told you to leave.

tighnari

He likes being held, he loves laying his head on your chest or burying his face on the crook where your neck meets your shoulders while you could play and twirl strands of his hair on your finger or while you rub his back and draw circles on it, he especially loves it when you massage his scalp and comb your hand through his hair.

Comfort cuddles are fairly something that would commonly happen between you two. He loves those instances wherein you’re holding him to your chest as you allow him ease himself while you lull him to sleep with the sound of your heartbeat while perhaps as you talk to him in a gentle voice.

He mostly seeks out to hug and cuddle whenever his stress levels are too high and he needs to relax himself so cuddling times often happens either during the afternoon or after his occasionally stressful patrols and duties, oftentimes when the day ends and the two of you have nothing left to do. Honestly, he looks for you when he's being overwhelmed by his feelings, whether jealousy, sadness, joy—it's just that your warmth brings him so much comfort and helps him in grounding himself.

Well, he's not the only one being comforted here, it is also you, even if it's just in a small gesture that he does while drawn close to each other. It could be the way he drags his fingers across your skin or ghosts his touch over you, in a manner that doesn't tickle you but simply in just desiring to touch your skin and feel what's underneath it.

cyno

The two of you mostly spend your time cuddling in silence and sleeping, there's no conversations being held and only rarely will it happen. However, it's not a dreadful silence nor is it an uncomfortable one but it's one of languidness and tranquility.

He doesn't move a lot in his position, only staying in one, and it makes you wonder if his body gets sore or anything because of how still he is while cuddling each other—you can offer to massage his shoulders and if he would allow you, you could feel how stiff his shoulders are and you couldn't tell if it's because of the heavy burden of the responsibilities resting on top of it or if it's how he holds you so much, so close, and so still when he wraps his arms around you.

He can cuddle you for hours and wouldn't easily let you go if you try to leave even if his hold on you isn't not that tight and even when he is also asleep—he has never told you of how he hates that feeling of absence right beside him, on the side of your bed, when he wakes up.

Cuddling, holding, and being up against each other is one thing he looks forward to in each day, he just simply adores the way you feel, the way your chest rises and falls, the feeling of your breath fanning his skin as he holds you against him, listening to he relaxed beating of your heart that gently lulls him. He just adores having you underneath the touch of his fingertips and in between his arms. 

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 3

Chapter summary: Joel needs help with his yard, you need help with figuring your feelings out

A/N: Im so excited you guys have been liking this!! last chapter was a good one, but this is my favorite so far. I also started a tag list so if y’all want to be part of that comment down here <3 Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: No outbreak AU, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Mean!Joel if you squint, some accidental physical contact lol, sexual tension but no smut

Series masterlist

“You can’t spend your whole summer doing nothing. You should really find something productive to do while you’re back home.”

Four years of college, every summer break, and most holidays spent working to cover tuition and other expenses—a lifetime of never catching a break until now—and that’s what your mother tells you after just two weeks of "doing nothing"?

You knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time before she decided to insert herself into your life and dictate your every move. It’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. “I’ve been helping out around the house,” you say, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “that’s not what I meant. You can’t be locked up in here all day. People will think you’re wasting your life away. I’ve been asking around at the town’s pageant commission, and they would be absolutely delighted to have you around to help us organize this year’s Teen Country Queen Pageant.”

There it was. Nothing your mother did was ever for anyone’s interests other than herself. If she had no interest in parading you around her pageant organizer friends, you were absolutely sure she couldn’t care less what you did with your days.

Right on cue, just before you’re about to give her a piece of your mind, your dad walks in. “What’s the long face for?”

“Oh, Hank, great! You can back me up here. I was telling her she needs to find something to do with her days. All this lazing around can’t be good for her. My friends at the—”

“Actually, I was thinking the exact same thing,” your dad says, surprising both of you.

“Really?” you ask incredulously. For all his flaws, your dad has never been one to meddle in your affairs.

“Yeah, Joel has been complaining about his front and back yard looking like shit since Cindy left.”

“Hank! Language!” your mom’s voice rises to that ear-shattering pitch she uses when she’s trying to be stern.

“Sorry, looking terrible since Cindy left,” your dad corrects himself, laughing it off. Sometimes he forgets he can only be that relaxed when he’s alone with you; your mom is a whole different ballgame.

“Um… Cindy?” you ask, drawing a blank on the name.

“The ex-wife. That’s not the point, kiddo. The point is he’s been whining about it for the longest time but is always too lazy to figure out gardening by himself. Then I remembered you were in the gardening club back in high school. It’d be nice of you to offer him some help. Poor man doesn't know how to keep a cactus alive.”

“Dad, that was ages ago. I don’t know if I remember much of it anyway. I only joined for my college applications,” you retort.

“It’s just a few plants and flowers here and there. How hard can it be? He even said he bought everything he should need for it but never got ‘round to actually doing it, so it’s all laid out for ya.”

Your choices were clear: spend however long it took to finish Joel’s yard while pretending you don’t have a massive crush on your dad’s best friend, or run around town with your mom organizing a beauty pageant. The decision wasn’t hard at all.

“I’ll go over and check it out.”

The walk to Joel’s house should’ve been short—barely a five-minute stroll up the road—but a nasty crack in the pavement had other plans. You were so lost in your thoughts today that you missed it entirely, stepping right into the trap.

Alright, maybe it wasn’t just today. You’ve been in your head ever since you first saw Joel standing at the bottom of your stairs. The way his hands had gripped your arms, steadying you, had left an imprint that you couldn’t seem to shake. And now, here you were, back in that same position, your mind consumed by this man who seemed to be as bad for your sanity as he was for your attention span.

So what should’ve been a walk up the road turned into a drawn-out pause as you sat on the sidewalk, waiting for the sharp pain in your twisted ankle to dull.

About ten minutes later, you finally make it to Joel’s lawn. You brace yourself to climb his porch stairs, pretending your ankle wasn’t bothering you, when you notice his garage door open. You hadn’t seen him from your previous angle, but as you got closer, the view of Joel's back muscles came into frame. And what a view that was. He was leaning over his truck, completely absorbed on whatever needed fixing under that hood.

For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the way his shirt clings to the sweat glistening on his skin. It takes a few seconds to remember that it isn’t socially acceptable to ogle someone from their front lawn, so you clear your throat and take a few more steps toward him.

“Hey” he greeted you, looking up from his work.

“Hey, yourself” you say back, playing it as cool as you could. It wasn’t a particularly hot day, but Joel's face glisten with sweat, as do his arms and you don’t not even want to think about what’s going on under that t-shirt.

“Come to pay me a visit?” he asked with a smirk

“My dad didn’t tell you? I’m your gardener for the day… or however long it takes to make your front lawn and back yard pretty.”

Joel’s response is a breathy laugh, followed by him dropping his head between his forearms resting on the truck.“My gardener, huh?” he finally brings his eyes back up to meet yours. “Your daddy don’t know how to mind his own business, do he, sweetheart?”

Let’s unpack that. This motherfucker didn’t just throw in a new pet name you’d be replaying in your mind at any random moment of the day, but he also said it in that tone he seems to reserve only for you—or so you hoped, at least.

And that other word coming from his lips… you were aware people in the south used it more casually, without the connotation it had in your mind, but the way it sounded coming from him…

Oh, it made you think of a million ways Joel Miller could say the word Daddy in plenty of different contexts.

You quickly drop your gaze, hoping to hide the intense blush creeping up your cheeks. “I uh… I’m afraid not.”

The sound of his boots on the garage floor pulls you back to reality as he steps closer. “You don’t gotta do this, y’know?” His tone shifts, becoming more serious. “It’s no big deal, I’ll get to this mess eventually.”

You look up at him once again, more desperate than you’d like to admit. “Joel, I’ve been cooped up in my house with my mother and her pageant friends for weeks now. Please, give me an excuse to be anywhere else.”

A chuckle. You could live for those, make it your entire profession to earn them. You really need to calm the fuck down and get a grip if you were to spend the entire day around this man.

“Alright, then. If it’ll make you happy, I’m not gonna say no” says before turning back into the garage. He returns with a small crate filled with gardening tools and a few potted plants, setting them down on the grass. “Got most of what you’ll need here. Not much, but it’s a start.” His gaze drops to your ankle. “You doin’ alright? You’re limping.”

You wave off his concern, not wanting to admit just how much your ankle is actually bothering you. “It’s nothing, just a little misstep on my way here . I’m fine, really.” You flash him a smile you hope is convincing enough.

Joel studies you for a moment longer, then nods. “Alright, but if it gets to be too much, you let me know, okay? Last thing I need is you hurtin’ yourself on my account.”

“Deal,” you lie. There’s no way in hell you’re backing out of this now.

He gestures toward the mess of overgrown grass, weeds, and flower beds that haven’t seen attention in who knows how long. “I guess that’s the worst of it. Clearing out the weeds should leave enough space for these plants. Don’t overthink it, I trust your instincts.”

You take your first good look at the pots he brought from the back of the garage. “Oh, daisies! They’re my favorite.” You glance up at him, sweetness lacing your tone.

He pauses, something unreadable passing over his face. “ ‘Course they are.” He says, the corners of his mouth tugging up a bit. “Well, let me know if you need anything else. I'll be working over there.”

With Joel back under the hood, you set to work on the lawn. Despite the dull throb in your ankle, you find a steady rhythm in the repetitive motions—pulling out stubborn roots, digging small holes for the flowers, and patting down the soil around them. It’s oddly satisfying, watching the neglected garden start to come to life under your hands. You’ve always had a knack for taking rugged things and making them pretty.

Every so often, you glance over at Joel, who’s completely engrossed in whatever he’s tinkering with under the hood. The way his muscles flex as he works, the concentration etched on his face and how it makes him look a lot more serious than he ever is when talking to you—it’s hard to not get distracted.

There’s something about him, something that pulls you in despite your better judgment, despite every self-preservation instinct in you. Maybe it’s the way he makes you feel grounded, even when your mind is spinning out of control. It’s such a foreign concept for you, you’ve always been the one who has to defuse tensions, be the bigger person, manage the chaos. It’s never like that with Joel.

You’re careful to keep your ankle steady, not wanting to give Joel any more reason to worry. But as the hours pass and the sun climbs higher, you can feel the strain starting to build. Ever the overachiever, you push through it, there isn’t much left to get done in the front lawn anyway.

By the time you’ve planted the last of the daisies, you’re more than a little proud of yourself. There are still a few bare spots here and there and a handful of marigold pots waiting to be planted, but the lawn is starting to look less like a jungle and more like somewhere you’d actually want to spend time in. You wipe your brow, satisfied.

Joel must’ve noticed you slowing down because he calls out from where he’s working, “How’re you holding up? You thirsty?”

You hadn’t realized how parched you were until he mentioned it. “Yeah, a drink sounds good.”

Joel gives you a quick once-over, his eyes lingering on your ankle for a moment longer than you’d like. But he doesn’t say anything as he leads the way into the house, holding the door open for you.

The cool air inside is a welcome relief from the midday sun, and you sigh as you step into the kitchen. Joel pulls a couple of glasses from the cupboard and fills them with ice water, handing one to you. You take a sip, feeling the cold liquid soothe your dry throat.

You lean against the counter, trying to take some weight off your bad ankle. But as soon as you shift your weight, a sharp pain shoots up your leg, and you can’t hold back the small whine that escapes your lips.

Joel’s eyes snap to yours, his brow furrowing with concern. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, Joel. I’m fine,” you insist, even though you know you’re not fooling him. “It’s just—”

“ ‘S that why you’re whining every time you put weight on it?”

“It’s just a bit sore. Don’t—”

Before you can finish, Joel’s on you in a flash, closing the distance between you. He’s careful but firm as he lifts you effortlessly, setting you down on the kitchen counter. “Let me see.”

“Joel, really, it’s not a big deal,” you start to protest, but the look he gives you silences any argument you might have had.

“Humor me,” he says, his voice low and steady. There’s a note of authority there that makes your heart race. There’s no disobeying him when he uses that tone.

You sigh dramatically, letting him gently take your injured ankle in his hands. His touch is warm, and the way his fingers graze your skin sends shivers down your spine. He inspects your ankle with a seriousness that makes your heart flutter, his brows knitted in concentration.

“This is more than a ‘little misstep,’” he looks back up, his eyes stern and serious. He slowly drops your leg, turning back to reach into the freezer and pull out a pack of frozen peas. He presses it against your ankle, holding it there with one hand while his other hand lingers on your calf.

It doesn’t take long for his thumb to start brushing up and down in a way that feels more comforting than it should. He starts adding a little pressure to his touch, the lingering touch from before turning into a massage up and down your calf.

Your breath catches as you look down at him, the way he’s so focused on taking care of you. The tenderness in his touch is at odds with the roughness of his hands, and the combination is making it hard to think straight. It’s even harder to keep the little sounds his touch arises in you contained, some of them escaping out of your parted lips despite your best efforts.

“Joel,” you start, your voice softer now, almost hesitant.

He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. His hand is still on your leg, his face overtaken by a dark expression you hadn’t seen on him until now.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The air between you feels charged, like something unspoken is hovering just out of reach. You can feel it in the way his grip on your leg tightens ever so slightly, in the way his breathing seems to sync with yours.

And then, as if realizing where his hand is, Joel slowly pulls back. “I should get you back home, let you rest that ankle.”

You frown slightly, the way he spoke such a stark contrast to the tenderness of his touch still lingering on your leg. “I’m alright. I’m gonna have to be kneeling down for most of what’s left anyways, so I won’t be putting any weight on it.”

“No, it’s best if you just go. I’ll sort the lawn out later.”

The words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You’re left staring at him, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor. Normally, your pride would keep you from asking, but something about Joel makes it impossible to let this go. “Did I… do something wrong?”

Joel pauses, his eyes softening for a split second before his expression hardens again. “No, you're fine. Thank you for your help, but I’m taking you home.”

He doesn’t leave room for discussion as he brushes past you, heading into the living room to grab his truck keys. Your chest tightens, the shame of the moment crashing down on you all at once.

Except… you didn’t do anything wrong. You weren’t the one who was running her hands up and down his body, or pulling him close and throwing him on the counter like it was nothing. He did all that. He made you feel like something more was happening, and now he’s treating you like some desperate girl who threw herself at him, needing to be ushered out of his house as quickly as possible.

The ache in your heart is quickly overshadowed by a fiery rage, building more and more with each passing second. You turn sharply in the kitchen, your mind made up as you march toward the open door leading to the garage.

“Don’t bother,” you snap, your voice cutting through the silence as you head for the exit.

“What?” Joel turns around just in time to see you storming out.

You don’t even answer him, your steps quickening even as pain shoots up your leg with every movement.

“The hell are you doin’? You can’t walk home with that busted ankle,” he calls after you, his tone much harsher than it was just moments ago.

You laugh bitterly, not bothering to look back. This man clearly doesn’t know you and your stubborn ass well enough yet. “Oh, I’ll fucking live.”

Without another word, you push through the pain, taking it one torturous step at a time. Each step feels like defiance, a middle finger to your own pride and to Joel’s sudden coldness. But it’s better this way—better to feel the sharp sting in your ankle than the dull ache in your heart. The whole way home, you curse yourself for being so goddamn stubborn, even as the fiery rage keeps you moving forward.

Tag list:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee

[klausysworld]

Can you make a smut like just pure smut klaus x reader (preferably black/mixed reader)reader is hope Mikealson’s best friend and reader is finally meeting hopes family and she is all hot and bothered by klaus and klaus can tell

“Hii how are you could you maybe make a smut klaus x fem reader hopes best friend (reader)finally meet hope’s family and reader is drawn to klaus and can’t take her eyes off of him and he notices and something happens between them :)”

this was also requested and i wasn’t sure if you could respond to two at once??

Hope and i had been best friends for a while now and i was so nervous about meeting her family. I’ve seen pictures and been told all about them so hopefully everything will be fine but i sort of already have crush on her dad even though i haven’t actually met him?

Hope knows i find him attractive and always makes jokes about it, thankfully she finds it funny instead of making it weird

“i know they’re all gonna love you! You, y/n y/l/n, are gonna become an honorary Mikaelson… or maybe an actual Mikaelson if you marry my dad… will that make me your daughter? should i start calling you Mommy?” i shoved her as we laughed and got out of her car to start walking to to her house, i ended up chasing her most of the way to the door as she fake screamed and ran

“i call maid of honour!” she called as we got to the entrance

“who’s getting married?” was said from behind me making me jump forward towards Hope, she had a big smile on her face as she grabbed my arm

“Dad!! this is y/n remember i told you all about her!?” my face heated up as i ran a hand down my face and glanced at Klaus who looked somehow even better in person than in the photos

“oh god what did you say?” i mumbled shaking my head and both she and her father laughed

“nothing bad love, in fact she said many wonderful things, you enjoy art?” i side eyed a very smiley Hope who was practically buzzing

“she does, she paints too, she’s really good, i think you should show her your art room cuz i know for a fact that she would just looove it, i showed her some of your pieces and her mouth was hanging open like a fish she looked adorable” she rambled but i don’t think Klaus was listening much, he was looking straight into my eyes as his pupil dilated as he licked his bottom lip and hummed

“well them we’ll take her up yes?” he cut hopes rant off and she nodded excitedly

“sure well im gonna see aunt Bex so if you take her to see that- the art! i’ll see you both in a moment” she literally slid out of the room as she slipped and skidded round the corner

“you don’t have to, i think Hopes in a…funny mood” i explained and began walking after her but his large hand took ahold of mine and he spun me back to his chest

“we should go see the art, if she thinks we should see the art then it’s what we should do” i whispered an “okay” in response and he led me up the stairs.

He showed me many paintings and sketches letting me touch the different textures and flip through his books. All the way through he kept a hand on my waist, his face was practically sat in the crook of my neck and he whispered stories of why painted different things. One sketch book had paintings of naked women, or hands touching intimate parts of someone, i felt my panties dampen at the thought of him painting my body, his hands cupping my breasts. He inhaled deeply through his nose and let out a little grunt

“which is your favourite?” he muttered as he bushed himself against me letting me feel his hard on against my ass

“probably that one…” i said quietly pointing to the painting of the women lead on the bed with her back arched and her head thrown back

“mm that was actually a very interesting person, she had very lovely hands you see?” he moved my hand to where hers were, she was squeezing her own breasts, i realised that was the main focus of his drawing, her hands

“you’re very talented Mr Mikaelson” he smirked and rubbed my hip with his thumb

“1000 years of practice can do that, perhaps…you’ll let me do you?” i gulped and slowly turned around so our chests were touching, i was breathing pretty heavily and could feel my breasts brushed against him, i locked eyes with his sapphire ones as i tilted my head up. He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to mine which i immediately reciprocated, they were plump and soft making me push my tongue through them and taste his. He tasted rich and intoxicating making me moan into his mouth and moved my hands to hold the back of his head while his held onto my waist pulling me tightly against him. He moved a hand down and lightly squeezed my ass under my skirt. He pushed his leg in between my thighs and moved me along his jeans, the fabric quickly darkened with my wetness as it went through my underwear onto him. I panted when he moved his mouth down to suck along my jaw and then down and back up my neck finding my sweet spot just below my ear and paying it extra attention. I moaned again louder and i began grinding against him harder. He brought his hands down to lift me up by my thighs, i wrapped my legs around him as he connected our mouths again.

Our tongues entwined and the sound of pages scattering the floor filled the room, i was put into the now empty table, i was pushed flat on my back and my legs were pulled to the edge

“you look so bloody beautiful spread our like this, suck a lovely dress” he told me and kissed down my neck to my cleavage, he ran his tongue along the swell of my breasts. I arched my back and moved my hands up to undo some of the buttons going down so he had better access to them. Klaus gently cupped them both and then attached his lips to my left one making me gasp. He tugged on it and swirled his tongue around it before giving the same affection to the other one. He undid the rest of the buttons and pushed it off my arms leaving me completely bare for him.

Nervousness flooded through me and i brought my knees up to my chest so i was covered

“i want to see you y/n, all of you” he whispered and pulled my knees apart to look at my most private area. The vulnerability of being so open for him while he was still fully clothed had me avoiding any eye contact as he studied me.

“you are magnificent you know that? absolutely divine” he announced moved so he was off the table and pulling me to the edge, he went down onto his knees and held my legs open

“do you want this, love?” he whispered locking eyes with me

“i- i do” he smirked in response and his tongue darted out. His hot tongue kitten licked at my clit, my hands flew to his hair and pulled him towards me breathing out his name as though it were a prayer

“lay back love” he instructed before his actions became more. He was now sucking harshly at my clit and his tongue teased my entrance making me gasp a moan. I opened my legs as wide as they would go when his skilful tongue entered me, he expertly plunged it within me and i called out for him desperately. The dreams i had were no where near as brilliant as the real thing. I could feel myself fluttering around his tongue, his thumb went to my clit and drew figures of eight upon it, he gradually got faster and i pulled at his sandy locks. The burning sensation pulsed through me, my nails scratched his scalp, his groan adding to the pure pleasure coursing inside while my toes curled and i came into his mouth. His thumb slowed and gently tapped my clit as he licked up every last drop that escaped me.

“You taste fantastic y/n” he whispered and kissed me again letting me see how sweet i was in his mouth.

“can you take your clothes off now” i asked shyly still playing with his curls. He smirked and kissed my lips again

“i suppose it’s only fair” he said while removing his shirt. I gaped at his toned body and couldn’t help but run my fingertips down his torso as he undid his belt, when i glanced down to his underwear i audibly swallowed

“i know you’re going to be so good for me” he uttered stroking my cheek with his palm while palming himself

“how…how do you want me?” i hesitated before asking still eyeing his thickness, almost drooling when he twitched

“Let’s get you on the floor” he pulled me down from the table and onto the floor

“hands and knees love” he whispered and i did as told. He disappeared for a second before returning with a pillow, he stretch my arms and and told me to rest my head on the pillow. I arched my back for him and shivered at the thoughts running through my mind

“you’re sure?”

“i’m positive” i replied

A moment later his tongue was in my folds again gathering my juices and sliding into my centre before exiting again and shifting himself forward, his hands rubbed my ass and down my back, he gripped onto my hips and guided me onto his dick. My tight walls swallowed him as soon as he entered his thick length and we both moaned.

“oh god” i mumbled and stretched myself further

“not god love, just me” he slowly removed himself until just is tip remained inside me before thrusting back in forcefully and building a rhythm from there

“i don’t think ‘just me’ is a fair answer there, you’re basically a god” he gave a breathy laugh and continued moving, i had never felt so full in my life, his cock buried far inside me hitting my g-spot just right making me cry out for him to continue. He gave guttural moans from behind me. His hands moved up my back and got ahold of the area between my neck and shoulders, he pulled me back into him to meet his forceful jolts. I tightened around him and i could feel my clit screaming to be touched, almost as if he could read my mind one hand left my shoulder and went to his mouth before down against my bundle of nerves.

“you going to cum for me sweet y/n?” he asked as he twitched inside me and his thrusts became slightly sloppy. I nodded rapidly and my body shook with the force he used to fuck me. i squeezed the pillow between my hands and cried out a moan of his name as i clamped around him and let him fill me with his hot fluid.

He rocked into me for a while longer before slipping out of me and letting out a sigh of contentment. My body relaxed and my face pressed into the pillow, my ass was still propped in the air and i groaned at the ache in my core pushed myself up on my arms and then my hands and rolled over to sit down

“did i do okay?”

“you did perfectly, come here” i crawled over to him and he tilted my head to kiss my lips slowly and softly

“Hope’s waiting for us and you need to meet everyone else but next time i’ll take you out for a romantic dinner, i’ll get you another pretty dress, your favourite flowers which i already know because Hope has told me everything i could need to know and then if you want something like this again ill have you in my bed” i blushed dark and nodded smiling

“i’d like that very much”

[f1nalboys]

OMG. I love the tod headcannons. Would you ever do ian sleepover headcannons?

HELLOOOO ANON sorry this has taken so long, i do apologize and i hope its fun to read!!!!

WORD COUNT: 916

WARNINGS: not proofread, weed mention, ians a perv on occassion, mostly fluff

ok number one i need a sleepover with this guy NOWWWWWW

ian refuses to call it a sleepover. you two are hanging out, chilling, that’s all. if he spends the night then thats just what happens, it totally wasn't his end goal

i truly believe ian sleeps better in anyone elses bed than he does his own not for any particular reason he just loves the feeling of being on vacation and being in a different bed counts to him fr

he comes over with nothing. like deadass the clothes on his back and maybe some weed IF UR LUCKY 

he also tends to show up ‘just for a bit’ and makes a big show about sighing at the time and being like man…. i wish i didn’t have to leave but its almost time for bed……..

like girl just ask to sleep over who cares

anyways he really hates Planned Sleepover Activities

no pillow fights, no truth or dare, no spin the bottle (this can and has been done before with him, he just has to be in the mood,) no bloody mary, etc

now, of course, if he really really really loves you, he’ll do all those things and more. he is going to COMPLAIN though. like, to the point where it’s almost unenjoyable. 

he does love a good spa day though…. you ask him to put on a fuzzy robe so you can put a face mask and cucumbers on him and he’s jumping for joy lowkey

and he lets you paint his nails and stuff and he doesnt care if its messy or bumpy or if you don’t put a top coat on it, he just loves that youre doing it for ihm

ANDDDD its the quietest he’ll be. youll look up at his face and hes staring down at you with such a sickeningly sweet love sick grin that its almost enough to make you barf and he won't say a single word until youre done

and even then he’ll just go “its great baby, thank you.” heheh

like 3 hours later he’ll go “you got a lot of nail polish on my skin, god damn.” and you’ll look over and hes very methodically picking it off of his skin lol

anyways. when hes over he just wants to chill genuinely 

ian is interested in getting chinese food or pizza, getting super fucking high, and having movies or music in the background while you guys talk

and he really only does one on one sleepovers, siblings or family excluded. if you invited another friend to sleepover at the same time hes gonna be in the corner like ugh…..sigh……eyeroll…..ugh…..what no im fine its whatever……sigh…..

ian is super handsy as is but when he gets tired hes worse

you’ll know hes ready for you two to go to sleep when hes suddenly attached to your back, arms around your waist and head in your shoulder

ian loves sleepovers that are simply for you two to get shit done

like ian has to rework an art piece? hes coming over and youre finally gonna clean your room.

he tries to sleep in his regular clothes all the time (he does it at home i fear to say) so if youre against that you HAVE to have some spare clothes for him. or let him sleep in his underwear but then he’s gonna get that dumb stupid sexy grin on his face and ask if youre trying to get him naked 

which like yes ian i am but not like that….yet

waking up with ian is great if you get up before him because hes all cuddly and sweet and murmuring in his sleep and you can just stare and admire him

if he gets up first hes waking you up but hes also fucking with you

he shakes you awake and is like BABE YOU OVERSLEPT FOR XYZ!!!!! and you jump out of bed and hes like haha got you just kidding

or he draws on your face or arms if youre a heavy sleeper and he can get away with it

AND he takes photos of you sleeping all the time on his shitty little flip phone and he never tells you about it

until like weeks later when youre hanging with him in the car eating food and he laughs and turns his phone around to show you a picture of you slumped over, mouth open, drooling.

but hes a menace

hes like well im up so i need you up to????

like god bless erin for dealing with him 

but you dont have to worry about it much, he normally sleeps in if hes able to but depending on when he went to bed, he could get up before you

and good luck trying to go back to sleep because hes hitting you with pillows and squashing you and talking until you just roll your eyes and sit up

and then hed smile and go omgggg good morning sleepyhead LIKE SHUT UP

overall, ian is a fun guy to have a sleepover with if you just want to chill, not if you want to do activities if that makes sense

but hes never going to ASK to spend the night (unless youre in the car with him about to get dropped off and hes kissing you and get handsy and THEN he’ll be like babe…. cant i just hang out :((( like sigh…. of course you can bae

[rippedfleshh]

clocky & toby

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈•༶

they’re a complicated duo that fit perfectly within each other’s fucked up jagged puzzle pieces.

I wouldn’t say they’re toxic, just complex and complicated. throwing together two serial killers who most likely have attachment issues (for diff reasons) and anger issues is bound to be slightly rocky at first.

that being said, they never intentionally hurt each other or have malicious intent towards one another. their expression of love is just slightly more complex or strange.

you’ll never hear clocky tell toby she loves him. but, she’ll listen to his rambles for hours on end and carry out any drawing requests he asks. she doesn’t write him love letters and continuously shower him in constant compliments. instead, she’ll maybe splurge a bit of cash to buy him a pocket knife she thinks he’d like. she also has crow like tendencies id say, picking up little bones or rocks in the woods she thinks he’d like. yes, she’s short on words and doesn’t quite know what to say but best believe she is showing her love for him in one way or another.

now for toby, unlike what you would expect and quite literally the opposite of clocky, he knows all the right things to say. but there’s always a time and a place. if he were to say sweet things to her all the time it would become the norm. toby doesn’t want that. he wants his words to convey meaning and genuinely make an impact on her. so on the nights that everything is quiet and maybe they’re sitting by a fire, he’ll lean over and whisper sweet, teeth rotting shit to her. also, love letters. he absolutely lovessss writing her love letters and means every damn word in all three pages. when it’s not words it’s in touches. gentle and almost unnoticeable. of course, she notices every single one though.

now for the complicated part. they have their fair share of fights and some of them get pretty bad. there’s not really a common theme but more so a common route of progression. they both are stubborn as hell and don’t know when to stop so this is where they clash heads. ultimately, they both realize they’re adults and sit to talk the shit out. afterwards, there’s either awkward silence for awhile or toby being… toby.

“you’re so pretty when you’re pissed off, I ever tell you that sweetheart?” “go fuck yourself”

“you know, if you’re jealous just say that.” “i will throw your ass into a table right fucking now.” “try it, bitch.”

“toby if you leave your bloody, sweat soaked clothes in my fucking laundry basket again im going to wreck your shit.” “fuck off dude, you’re always bitching.” “say some wack shit like that again and I will have your head on a fucking stick” “yes ma’am.” (he does it to get a reaction from her, but she knows this teehee)

neither of them take shit from the other and it’s almost perfect, because there’s no sensitivity. but, there’s always a boundary and when they’re crossed is when shit gets twisted. it’s honestly quite rare though because both are smart enough to know what’s appropriate and not.

so, they’re a cute couple (who happen to be serial killers). and no, they don’t kill together because their tactics are too different and they’d stress each other out.

[lavendermunson]

enchanted IV | knight!eddie munson x princess!reader

summary Eddie tried to do the right thing but his heart can’t stop hurting. It’s time for the knight to drop his duties and come for the thing he loves the most.

tags +18, afab!reader, this chapter doesn’t have warnings at all but if you need me to mark something please let me know.

a/n read the note at the end!

wc 2.9k

moodboard | previous chapter | masterlist

After talking to Wayne about the safety of the princess, Eddie returns to his room and looks at himself in the mirror. He feels his hands too light, feeling he is missing something. He is definitely missing something.

He wonders if this is the end. It is, maybe it is. He has to let go of the fire that ignites the chimney on the coldest week of winter and stay at home with the ray of sun that has lightened his face every day in the morning.

It would be stupid to run and see you, it would be so stupidly wrong. But for a moment he thinks, and thinks. There’s a possibility of you running away with him. He can’t predict the future, god, he wishes he could and right now the only thing left is giving up.

He sits in his bed, taking a notebook from under his pillow. The first page has a drawing of his mom, he tugs it close to his heart and as soon as he rests his head in the pillow, a tiny piece of paper peeks from under the leather.

“I wanna be defined by the things that I love. Not the things I hate. Not the things that I'm afraid of. Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night. I just think that you are what you love.”

He closes his eyes, letting all his feelings flutter inside his body. He misses his mom. He misses being happy. Being, feeling free.

It is time for things to change, he thinks.

It is time I change things.

—

With shaky hands and a pale face, terror conquers Eddie’s body at the sight of your parents. The king and queen.

“It's okay, you got this” he hears Wayne’s voice from their conversation before. Eddie got out of his room, told Wayne everything he felt, every little thing that was on his mind.

It was hard for Wayne to accept that the living reminder of his sister was telling him he was going to leave. He wanted to be mad, but he couldn't. It's what Eddie's mom would've wanted. It's what Eddie should do, fight for love.

Wayne was in love once, he understood completely. He hugged his nephew, he kissed his forehead. He wishes the best to him.

“So… what do you have for us? News?” The king, your father, speaks.

“I… i need to tell you something” Eddie's hands are no longer shaking. “I don't want to be your knight anymore, but don’t get me wrong it was an honor”

The kings, your parents, look at each other and for a moment they know. They know why, they know what’s coming, they've prayed for this.

“It is, it’s fine Eddie. But tell me, why the sudden change of mind?” your mother speaks, her voice is gentle. It surprises Eddie.

“I'm not– I'm not asking for permission. You can stop me, you can try to stop me. I need to go away, I need to get out of here. But I'm not doing it alone, I'm not going out empty handed.

For the first time in my life, I felt seen, I felt loved. Your daughter, I've been obsessed with her my whole life. She never treated me differently, no, how could she? She is the angel of my dreams, she is all I need. Her kindness. Her bravery. Her, she… she has a beautiful way of describing things, of seeing life.

I swallowed my heart for the sake of my kingdom but this is not what I want. I want her. She brought me back to life, I spent less than a lifetime with her and I need her. I need her like lungs need air. She fills me up, she… she makes me feel safe.

So I'm telling you… not asking. I need to go away, she needs to get out of here. I'm getting her out, to give her a happy, free and safe life. Im getting her away from you, and them, and this. To love her, to take care of her, and to make her the happiest girl that’s ever going to exist on this planet.”

His chest hurts, his throat is swollen. He is wondering why they aren’t throwing him in some dungeon.

The queen gets to him, away from her throne. The king follows her.

“Eddie. We are not going to stop you, you’d be doing us a favor” she says, taking Eddie’s hands in hers.

“We can’t stop this, but you can. Get away. Go away. Take care of our little girl” The king speaks, his eyes looking soft.

“We are not going to stop you, but we can’t help you either. You must have a plan by now, you are a smart boy” your mom speaks again, tears filling up her eyes.

“You can go now. Good luck, and thank you for caring about her” your dad speaks, Eddie nods.

This is the last time he is going to see them. He takes a deep breath and walks out.

—

It’s been a dreadful week, a nightmare of a lifetime. Jason’s mom keeps coming into your room, you’ve tried on thirty-seven dresses and still none of them is the right one. How could any dress be the right one, when the husband-to-be isn’t the one you love?

Every minute you spend in that castle, away from your family and waiting for Jason to come and talk to you when you know he is away with a girl somewhere. It feels like that’s all you are going to be. Always a girl trapped in some room, away from the wonders, the adventures.

From the moment Eddie let the other knights take you, your heart has been feeling heavy. The feeling of waking up to an empty bed after the best night of your life was something you couldn’t describe. It was painful.

Someone who is in love with you doesn’t betray you, he doesn’t get to do that to you. And you think, maybe this is what you deserve. To be here. Alone.

–

After getting some food for dinner you go back to your room. A room that’s too empty for your taste. There are no books lying around. No comfortable silk pillowcases. The sheets are rough, the blankets are too cold.

You look out, the tiny window in the room is enough for you to see a part of the woods. The sun is going down, it will disappear in an hour, maybe less.

“Since you don’t want any dress, I will have to give you my own” the queen enters the room, making you jump.

“I can’t. No i can’t take that from you” you shake your head.

“It is settled” she lets the modiste come in to fix the dress, it’s the less you can now.

“I have this. It’s for you… but please don’t tell anyone i gave it to you”

On her hands rest a letter, with a pink wax seal that you would recognize everywhere. Your mom’s.

“My dear, our tulip.

We have been thinking, we have been convinced. This life is not for you, it never was.

Since you were born, we have been the happiest pair. My little girl.

It is time for you to be your own person. To make your own choices. To make good things. To make mistakes.

He is going to take care of you. He is going to do what we couldn’t… He is going to make you happy.

Me, dad. We love you, cherry pie. We will miss you. You are our thoughts.

Love you. Mom.”

Tears pool on your eyes, and you blink twice and look at the paper. Hope gets over you, you spin in your feet with a smile on your face.

Him? Eddie? All of this is too good to be true.

“How did you get this?” you ask the modiste.

“Princess, i'm not a modiste. I'm some sort of a… messenger? Tonight at midnight you need to go down the stairs, through the kitchen and wait on the opposite side of the barn. You know what’s waiting, I won't tell you.”

“Midnight. Got it, thank you” you say.

“Have a safe travel, it was an honor to meet you”

—

A wave of happiness hits you. You rest in bed and tug the letter close to your chest.

The moment you’ve been dreaming for is finally here. Freedom. Love. Him.

You wonder why this couldn’t come sooner, but maybe this was the right time. The right time to be anything you want to be, to start again in a new place. Meet people. Travel. Learn.

And most importantly… be with him. Kiss him. Hug him. You miss his touch. His smell. His fingers over and inside you.

The door opens in a rush, you hide the letter under your pillow. It’s Jason, drunk, filthy, dumb Jason.

“Hello future wife, i am exhausted from just… kissing so many girls” he closes the door and gets in bed with you, pulling you to him. You try to fight back but he doesn’t let you. His arms are heavy on you. “Fuck-fuck night gowns and fuck-fuck-fuck me” he falls asleep quickly, like some sort of miracle.

You look at him, it’s the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him. You wonder why a sweet kid like him could grow up to be a nightmare of a person.

Is this what happens? When greed, money, fame and a high status gets over your head? And you wonder. Is he going to look for you? With violent knights and hundreds of weapons. If he is selfish, dumb and evil. Would you ever be safe?

The clock hits midnight. It’s time to go.

You press your fingers on his arm, delicately breaking free of his grip so he won’t wake up. His arm fell hard on the mattress, your fingers slipped but he didn’t wake up.

He is lost. Dozing.

You run to the door, quietly. Once it’s been open you close it and run towards the kitchen.

A loud sneeze comes from the hallway, you hide in a closet next to the back door. You take a peek from what it looks like to be a keyhole and realize it’s the queen. Jason’s mom.

She makes herself tea. Surprisingly, she is making a tea by herself. The clock above her head marks five minutes past midnight, you cross your fingers hoping she doesn’t take too much time.

–

Eddie’s plan has been working perfectly. Since packing his stuff, some of your stuff he got back from the cabin in the woods. He got a horse ready, fruit and bread for the ride. A map.

He gets close to the back of the barn, leaving the horse a few minutes back so he won’t get caught.

Eddie hears steps coming to the barn. The king, Jason’s dad. He is pacing around looking at the animals, maybe he can’t sleep.

After a few minutes the queen joins the king, Jason’s parents look like villains out of a book. They look old, tired and their faces always have a frown on it.

Eddie starts to play with the rings in his hands. He is anxious. They won’t go away and if you come out the door and find them they will catch you and lock you forever. He has to stop you from coming out.

His steps are fast, but quiet. He looks for another entrance to the castle and runs through the hallway. He looks at the wedding decorations.

The wedding was supposed to happen today, in the morning.

He runs through the castle, hoping no one will see him and after catching a glimpse of your figure he runs towards you. You managed to escape the queen a few seconds ago, making your way to find another exit.

The place looks like a labyrinth, everything is dark. Eddie feels himself running in circles, getting to the same place over and over. He stops to ease his breath, trying to get rid of the fog that clouds his eyes. A body bumps into him, he opens his eyes and takes in your face.

The softness of your lips. The pretty tip of your nose. And when he finally locks his gaze with yours he allows himself to breathe again.

“It’s you” you say, quiet.

“Hi, i’m here to rescue you,” he says, with a grin on his lips.

“That is… very accurate. I was going to make fun of you for that”

“What can I say? call me knight charming”

You push your body towards him, his hands fit right in your waist and pull you to his chest. Your lips met his in a short kiss, it lasts seconds but it takes you to heaven.

“I’m sorry. I have so many things I need to say to you but we have to go. Now” you nod, taking his words in, his hand reaches yours and together you run to find an exit.

–

After what felt like hours of running, you finally make it to Eddie’s horse. He gets “Peanut” ready to leave but panics as he hears footsteps, not too close so you can escape in time but close enough to make him anxious.

“Hurry” he says to you.

“I see them, c’mon!” A drunk Jason walks slowly to you. He is still far away, his steps are clumsy and it’s taking him years to reach you.

“Let’s go, sweetheart” Eddie’s voice sounds muffled, a ring in your ears starts to increase its pitch.

Your heart is beating in your heart so fast, your body is completely frozen.

“I can’t” you look at Eddie, his lips trembling.

“What?”

“I- I didn't say goodbye to my parents. I didn’t hug them one last time i-” you pause, tears run down your cheeks “This, this kingdom. The people, they need me Eddie”

“No! no they don’t. Your mom is, she is going to take care of them. Your dad said they are going to think about you all the time… sweetheart, please. It’s time to go” he reaches for your hands, taking them with a soft touch and squeezing them.

“And the cabin, I need my stuff. My books and my clothes” you look at him, he is worried but he knows you are scared.

“I have some stuff, I have the clothes and blankets you made. The mug and plates you made. Your box of jewelry” he drops your hands by your sides, his soft palms travel to your cheeks and he takes a deep breath. “There’s books everywhere, we can buy more and we can look in every place for them. Please…” he kisses your forehead, hoping it would ground you and assuring you it’s going to be okay. “Please come with me”

You nod, you take his hands away from your face and your heart skips a beat. You get on the horse with him, hugging him from behind and squeezing his body as tears fall down your cheeks again.

As you get far away from the kingdoms, the castles slowly start to disappear. Eddie manages to lose the ones that were following you and starts to focus on the road.

It was hard. Sad.

The two of you were heartbroken.

Leaving people you loved. The place you grew up in. All the memories you’ve left behind.

Eddie told you he managed to sell the cabin to a couple in the kingdom that were tired of the stupid rules and wanted to be free. It was enough to get a tiny house, your jewelry was going to help.

You were going to find jobs and live a happy life. Together.

–

After traveling around for months, you finally found a place to stay. It was a big town, without a kingdom.

There was a mayor, a woman with a strong character but she looked nice.

A sheriff, he looked serious and he was strong.

The two of them welcomed you after buying your house. It was much better than the cabin, nicer than Eddie’s house. You loved it, it was tiny and felt cozy. It felt like a home.

Hours after settling, showering together and sharing some kisses. Your now boyfriend and you walked through town, at the very center of it there was a market.

You bought books, fruit, and some ingredients to cook. Pieces of fabric, silk, old drapes.

In the corner some kids close to a carpet full of miscellaneous stuff.

“How much for the guitar?” Eddie says, taking the guitar in his hands and starting to play a melody. You watch him, his smile looks so good and his eyes are less puffy.

“I will give you a good deal if you teach us how to play the new one we got” A boy with curly hair speaks, as the others watch your boyfriend.

“Deal” Eddie reaches for the boy’s hand and he takes it smiling. “I’m Eddie, this is my princess Y/N”

“I’m Dustin” he shakes his hand “These are my friends, Mike, Lucas, Will, Max and El”

“Nice to meet to guys” you smile, they all look so friendly.

“Are you really a princess?” Max says, getting close to you with El by her side.

“Let’s say… we all are princesses” you smile at them “Right?”

“I love that!” El says, smiling.

You watch the kids laugh and dance as Eddie plays a song on the guitar and sings. Your heart flutters.

You look at each other, words aren’t needed when you know you feel the same. Finally you are free, happy. In a place where you feel like you belong. In a place when you can make your own choices and as your mom said, your own mistakes. But by Eddie’s side it will always be great, things will always be great.

hey! what a ride. this was my first time doing a long fic. i have to apologize for the ending, i tried to wrap up everything and i still feel like i missed some things but i will write them in the future, separately from this long story but in the same universe.

i dropped this story for a long time and i had a lot of plans, unfortunately i didn’t have time to do it and i just keep being unmotivated by the whole thing but i tried my best to come up with an ending instead of abandoning it.

thank you to everyone for your support 🩷 if you want to see more of them or my work tell me!!

tag list + special thanks to: @stephanie-nicks76 @mylovelycrazyworld @enam3l @punkwitchcosplay @eddiesprincess86 @nojamsonmytoast @lunar-corgimon @secretdryrose @findmeincorneliastreet @duncanhillscoffeecups @sagedbelladonna @cherry-pop3547

[reluctanttrabbit]

finally caving and rambling about my au vanessa<333

-after her mom..um..left, she started to get very good at drawing and would practice everyday (because she would try to draw her mom and not forget what she looks like)

-her older brother is phone dude and he knew practically EVERYTHING about freddys and fazbear entertainment. so naturally, older brother's interests = coolest thing in the whole world

-when she was around 16, PD opened fazbear frights and vanessa would help around with decorating and doing sfx :33

-unfortunately, the fire happened and everything spiraled from down there. she ran away from home and eventually got taken in by michael afton and jeremy fitzgerald (:333)

-she is very comfortable with the two, until shes about 17-18 and michael goes through the events of pizza sim. you can guess what jeremy and vanessa thought after michael didn't come home that day

flash foward to when shes about 20, jeremy and vanessa get jobs at silver parasol games (jeremy got roped into it because of the whole fazbear mess, vanessa got the job of her own will)

-things..do not go well for them there when The Anomaly first starts appearing. it gets ahold of jeremy, and then y'know what happens. vanessa is sadly never aware of his death because the anomaly immediately goes after her

-it promises her that it would help her find michael. he'd return home and be there for her forever and ever. and she gives in.

-throughout malhare's possession, she can really only remember bits and pieces (trying to reach out through the computer searches, the therapy sessions, getting moved to the pizzaplex and becoming head of security, etc)

-shes around 23 when she gets the job at the pizzaplex. slowly but surely, shes getting some more free will and starts to reach out to the employees. but malhare isnt having that so he takes control, makes the vanny suit, and informs all the employees about the all staff meeting

-vanessa is now the only security guard. she doesn't know why.

-flashing foward to the events of sb, before the intro she is full vanny and chasing after gregory (in my au ggy will be canon, so her goal is to either get him re-possessed or just finish him off). he gets away and hides in freddy's chest, yadayada, but THIS time vanessa is fully willing to help gregory because hello. hes like 10. she is an ally like freddy and can open security offices for you and help you to take different paths. but like freddy, she does have a limit. maybe this is the scrapped vanny meter or whatever

-ok im skipping most of security breach gregory finally plays the last princess quest game and frees her. she soon learns that gregory doesn't really have a home to go to, so she immediately takes him under her wing and boom 3 star fam wins!!!!

i was just really thinking about her tonight<333 cant promise i'll do this again but alas.

[gideongrovel]

Bro 👏🏾 is 👏🏾 yapping 👏🏾 about 👏🏾 that 👏🏾 man 👏🏾 again!!! 👏🏾

I wish I could remember more about what my thoughts on E/nel were when I first watched S/kypiea all those years ago,,,,, i was like what 10?? maybe 11? maybe 12?? idk maths isn't mathing,, and idr if I met him first through the Funi dub, or though my copy of Grand Adventure on gamecube, or the manga itself I can't blame myself for not remembering since its been so fucking long,,, and OP is one of those things that's quite literally always been apart of my life,,,,, my obsession coming and going in waves, but still,,, idr it never not being a thing in my life,,,, 😭

but anywhoooo I have figured out a couple small pieces to the puzzle of why i have snapped all these years later, and why i want that man (E/nel)!!! Okay so since in my youth I use to ship with Z/oro (I do not anymore, i personally feel too grown for him, and im just not into him in a shippy way anymore) but when I was younger and into Z/oro, his S/kypiea outfit was my absolute favorite (gonna mention Grand Adventure again- id always pick that as his outfit in that game lol), but i think that was my main focus when watching/rewatching that arc back then lmao,,, And while im not religious now, i use to be a christian when i was younger,,, so E/nel's whole god shtick probs was an ick to me back then,,,, so thats also a potential reason of why i didnt feel any shippy feels to him when i was younger,,,, 🤔

but now in this current day and age,,, those barriers weren't there,,,,, god complexes are hot to me- i love blasphemy and i didnt have someone else drawing my attention,,,, so i think thats a couple reasons of why these feels arose,,, My preferences with characters i lust after is different now then it was back then, and he checks alot of boxes for me "maybe, just maybe, its mental illness innit" so its not surprising when i really think about it,,,,,, its just funny it took over a decade to like smack me in the face,,,,, especially cause ive seen the arc many of times so i had many chances for it to happen 😭😭😭

i cant find it but i saw diagram once, it was like two separate lines meeting, then going their separate ways, then meeting back up again,,, and thats what this feels like??? not in like a rekindled old flame way,,,, cause he never was a flame, he was just someone i knew,,,, idk i guess its more like an "Oh. Oh." moment,,, like actually catching romantic feel for him (and not just sexual ones like i originally thought it was) has felt kinda comforting in some odd way??? that may sound off the wall given the type of character he is lmao,,,,,

But my thoughts are like it was a "wrong place, wrong time" back in the day,,,, but now,,, now we found our ways back to each other, it may have taken some time but things have aligned perfectly,,, and we're together now, and that is what matters in the end,,,,

idk what im on about truly,,,, articulating my emotions for this man feels *make vague idk gesture* if you wasted your time reading this im legit sorry 💀 I just love E/nel alot,,,, and this development of feelings these past couple months has my head spinning

[tubbypeddle]

hii, I'd like a matchup for percy jackson and one piece please! (I'm using the previous person's request as a template sorry)

I’m a 5’9 girl, have brown skin, dark brown eyes, and curly/coily, brown hair. I have an athletic/rectangle-type body. I usually wear jorts/cargos and graphic tees when I feel masc. I love to wear crop tops and shorts when I feel more feminine.

im bisexual with a preference for men

im usually an extrovert on most days, especially with people I know, but sometimes I'm more introverted. i like to push myself to be a better version of me. i love adventuring, but I also enjoy relaxing a lot. i have a creative and active mind and I talk a lot. i love listening and debating on topics I enjoy.

i dislike people who are rude just to be rude/rude because they think its cool. people who give backhanded comments or gossip. i hate feeling overwhelmed or overstimulated, or just feeling tired in general.

irrational fear of heights lol. but really, im scared of not having a good future, and everything going wrong after college.

my hobbies are, reading, traveling, sports, writing, games, and baking

i love hugs and quality time with people I love, whether that be going out or just chilling at home.

what i prefer in a partner is someone who will be there for me when I struggle and feel overwhelmed. someone willing to be there for comfort, but also someone who isn't afraid of communicating their own feelings.

i think that's it, thank you!

okay so. ignore that this took even longer than it normally would.

because.

if you mention it, I might genuinely crash out

anyway.

(author's note: credits to gif owners, I do not own them. again, I literally cannot apologize enough, I am so sorry these are taking so long.)

It's shocking news. To hear that you're a demigod. The child, of a Greek myth.

Yeah right.

But, you suppose it would explain all the strange things that happened to you in your childhood. Apparently all of those myths that Mr. Brunner told you in school were real.

Because your best friend has goat hooves for feet???

He takes you to Camp Half-Blood, which your (apparently) satyr friend says is the only place safe for demigods like you. Almost everyone is shocked to meet you, especially because you're much older

He takes you to the Hermes cabin, where you'll stay until your Godly parent claims you.

And there, you meet

Travis Stoll

Now it may not be obvious at first, but let me explain.

He's one of the two head counselors for the cabin. Him and his brother personally get you situated into Camp life.

Connor finds you fun and polite enough, but it's Travis who has a crush on you.

It's like at first sight with you.

Connor and Travis have rather different types in women they like, which is why I personally see you with Travis more than Connor.

Connor likes girls who are softer. Maybe a little more "delicate". Girls who giggle at his every joke.

Travis likes his girls a little more athletic, of which there is no shortage of in Camp Half-Blood. He likes girls who are strong. Girl where he doesn't have to worry about them being hurt when he isn't around.

At first though, he doesn't even think his crush will go anywhere. He just likes to admire you from afar.

He's much too busy as a year-round Head counselor. Let alone, the replacement head counselor of a camper gone rogue.

The day his crush on you goes somewhere is when he finds you breaking down in a corner of the Hermes cabin. Your godly parent is just taking forever to claim you. You feel unwanted. Abandoned. Alone.

Now, this is nothing new to Travis. It's like a demigod's rite of passage into Camp Half-Blood.

Doesn't make it any easier to see someone else feeling the same way he did once upon a time.

He comforts you as best he can. He lets you scream and cry, or he lets you throw things around, if that's how you handle things.

And when you're done with your crying, he offers ways to get your mind off of it. Sparring, or drawing with you. Reading whatever textbooks the Big House has.

He even tells you about his own experiences with the gods. His own quests he's been on, big or small. He tells you about how his father claimed him. He isn't afraid of being vulnerable with you, even though all of his instincts are yelling at him to be paranoid.

From there, your friendship becomes something more. You find yourself looking for him whenever either of you have free time.

Since you enjoy active activities just as much as quieter ones, it's rather lucky Travis is the one who likes you. He's the same way.

He doesn't read as much, because even though all the books in Camp Half-Blood are written in Greek, he just doesn't like reading. But he'll listen to you read. He likes listening to you read aloud. Or even if you don't want to do that, he'll probably whittle away at a piece of wood while you draw.

His main love languages are quality time and acts of service after all. This is how he shows you he likes you.

It's very lucky that neither of you enjoy gossip. Travis hates rumors and all that what have you. It's a big reason why he doesn't get along with a lot of the Aphrodite kids.

His favorite dates with you are when you two go out and do something active. Preferably when you two can leave the camp. Not far, probably not even out of Manhattan.

He just wants to take you out to do something fun, that will leave memories that the two of you can cherish for a lifetime.

Honorable mentions!

Frank Zhang

You're actually pretty close to his canon romantic interest type. At least, what I'm imagining, based on your description. He also likes quieter activities, while still enjoying more physical things, too. You two would spend a lot of your time together since you enjoy many similar things. I just felt he'd be too obvious of a choice. (and also, he's from Heroes of Olympus, technically, and I didn't know if that's what you were also looking for.)

What a lovely dive into the world of Percy Jackson!

Now, it's time to move on from the world of gods and demigods, and into the world of pirates and giants.

You're sailing the Big Blue. Whether as a pirate or military, doesn't matter.

Either way, it's

Koby

He meets you by chance. Most likely while he's infiltrating a pirate's ship.

He finds you, probably being held hostage. And he rescues you.

He's enamored by you when you two first meet. He finds himself wanting to keep in touch with you after he's rescued you from the pirates, whether or not you are a pirate yourself.

He's proved before that he doesn't care about where you stand on that front. He just wants to hold your hand.

At first, he tries to get your attention by leaving you gifts. Anonymously, of course.

Training under Garp may have given him confidence in himself, but not confidence in his courting skills.

He leaves you little things like seashells he found along the beaches he came across that reminded him of you. Little flowers he came across while patrolling a town. Chocolates, if you're into those.

(He's getting all of his ideas from romance novels)

It takes him a long time to muster the courage to tell you who's leaving you those gifts.

Should you decide to accept him, I promise you that he's a great boyfriend.

He's attentive, and kind, and gives you everything that you want whenever he's able to. (His love languages are gift giving and quality time)

He makes time in his schedule for you. All of his vacation days are used up just for your dates.

He also enjoys just listening to you talk. He enjoys debating with you, just because he likes hearing your opinions and thoughts, even if sometimes he doesn't agree.

Also, he adores your style. Honestly, what someone wears isn't the first thing that catches his attention about people he's attracted to. It's their determination and their willpower that draws him in.

But he thinks you look cute in everything you choose to wear. Whether it be your crop tops and shorts, or your tanks and cargo jeans.

Really, he's just completely enamored by you.

Out of everyone, Koby is probably the most emotionally competent. At least, in the navy, he is. It's not often that you two have arguments. You understand that he does his best to make time for you, and he's very amenable to understanding you and how you work.

So when you two do get into arguments, Koby makes it a point to never raise his voice, no matter how frustrated he gets. He listens to what you have to say and is careful to change his behavior should he find you correct in what you're saying.

Relationships are a lot of work, but it's nothing he's not willing to do.

Honorable mentions!

Luffy

It's not that I thought he was obvious, although it was an obvious choice to me. It's that I think he might not be able to sit down for too long to have those long kinds of conversations that you seem to love. He's too hyper, he has to be doing something always. (and also he'd eat all your food)

I hope you enjoyed it 🥺

[usagiverse]

Bunnon claims to be Yuichi's #1 Fan, and that they'll keep him company so that he never has to sleep alone again. I keep trying to do different outfits and color combinations, but I forgot about outfits that actually show off the twins' markings. I did that intentionally so I didn't have to draw the marks in every panel (plus, Yuichi definitely has more than 6 freckles on his face, but it's easier to be consistent than realistic (and realistically, the pages will never get done if i have to properly freckle him)). I also have to keep in mind the size difference... Bunnon... why are you so tiny? I used the group picture as reference and didn't realize you were all the way down there!! I mean, I know you can just stretch to appear taller, but the Usagis really are massive at full size... im kidding, this is not a real question, for I am God and I deem you are shorter than even the shortest Usagi hehe (until i draw the extending limbs that is) Today I learned that Bunnon watches anime.. perhaps even JJK??? Maybe the Lynx is actually Gojo???

They are definitely powerful, but not in that kind of way. They are one of the leading figures of the NNC, which you can tell by the amount of metal plating they wear. This is an internal design choice, it will come up later, but serves a purpose. Only a few of the Neko Ninjas wear multiple pieces of metal armor, this one has 5 pieces (shoulders, knees, and the faceplate) but the metal armor on their face is especially large, much bigger than the usually provided head-piece to upper rank ninjas. It seems to fit their face perfectly, as though molded right on top. I wonder what's under it ? I don't think uncovering their face would be a spoiler, since there is no such thing as a "lynx" character in any version as far as i know (except maybe background or horde fights, no major characters though) but i'm not settled on how I want to do their eyes.. born blind, damage blind, different ways of damage blind, markings if there's minimal damage, etc.. something.. idk yet so no face reveal for now.

Thanks for the ask Bunnon! I left it private, but I still wanted to do something for you. Thank you for your kind words and heartfelt messages, I hope this will be a good start to your day ~ !

ah but I am not actually sure where you are from so maybe it's a good start to your night instead ? I'm actually going to bed now, it's almost 4AM when i post this-

[jellycreamjammedart]

Hei there demons. It is I, ya boi

A while ago I considered making a trivia-like video about the assets I've made for Killer In Purple 2, and maybe show off unused content as well as asset details you probably don't see in-game. Instead I'm posting here!

Part 1: THE VERY FIRST MODEL

I was approached by the dev of Killer in Purple 2, GoldieEntertainment (GFC) after showing off some voxel art I've made in a mobile app called Fancade, and invited to join in on helping expand on Killer In Purple 2. I was like heck yeah let's get this bread!

I downloaded a mobile voxel app called Mega Voxels that actually lets users export their creations, which is exactly what I needed! All set!

My first task was making a new model for the kid NPC that was being used in the game at the time, which was made by Goldie... on Blender according to him, if I recall correctly?

(video thumbnail)

It was also the only kid model in the game at the time.

Looking at it and the rest of the game at the time, I tried to stick to the "blocky aesthetic" it had going on. I started with the head/face.

(don't mind the ads, you can't escape them nowadays.)

When I showed it to GFC he pointed out its "soulless stare" 😂😂😂 And I was not fully satisfied with the result either. So I went on from there.

I decided to retain the blockiness but also making use of more color shades in order to smooth the edges and give it more personality. After some back and forth of experimenting and tweaking, this was the final result:

The little kiddy face we've all become familiar with! If you pay attention you'll see the eyes are still pretty much a square, with a tiny bit of different color shades surrounding it to give the illusion it's rounded, plus different pupil placement to curb the "soulless stare."

The hair is basic, based off GFC's original model while also drawing slightly inspiration from the sprites of Crying Child from FNAF 4.

"But Jelly," you ask, "what about the rest of the model, like the body? That's just a head." Well, I say: DON'T LOSE YOUR HEAD! We're about to get there! (im funny i swear)

The body was surprisingly very straightforward; I tried to keep in mind where the original model was segmented and tried to stick to the same segmentation with the new body. I tried to keep the original clothing when coloring as well.

And here we have one (1) full boye, asserting his dominance!

(The solid green spots were to help GFC see where the different pieces connect, which he could easily color over once they served their purpose.)

Keep this fine young lad in mind, y'all, since he'll go on to also become the base for just about every other child character in the game. I made such choice to make things easier and faster for GFC; that way he could apply pretty much the same rigging and animations to them with minimal modifications, to save time.

Giving the characters different expressions was something that came only later once GFC figured out a way to do it, but it was something I had already been thinking about. He asked me to give the kids a small select of facial expressions; aside from the pre-existing neutral smile, I was also tasked with giving them a scared face for when they see William with the knife out or witness a kill, and a dead face for when... well, when William gives them the ultimate BONK on the head, I guess.

Scared is pretty straightforward, but what would be a dead expression? There are many ways one could go about it. So rather than making one, I made several dead faces with different designs, and left it up to GFC to pick up the "winner."

First is the default neutral smile, second is scared, and all remaining ones are different dead expressions.

I went for combinations of blank faces, empty/hollowed out eyes, tear marks matching the well-known children spirits in FNAF, as well as the cartoony X'd out eyes, which wound up being GFC's pick.

And with that we wrap up for now. These were my first steps in helping Killer In Purple 2 slowly become what it is now and my first contributions to the game (with the exception of the different expressions which we went for after a substantial amount of work.)

It all started with this little guy and his former soulless stare!

Stay tuned for whenever I decide to make new posts talking about other assets! ❤

[novawitchy]

Past Lives

This is a story(ish?) Based off of a dream I had a year ago. Im not the greatest writer but I really wanted to post this! Please go check out my post on @witchyclispe for the drawing and a small speedpaint!

You've heard of loves that are meant to be,but maybe in another universe. "I wish we had more time" "i will find you in the next life"

Atticus Selene, a man in the space program, happily married the love of his life Dottie, a sweet and gentle woman. . He adored her to pieces, having been in love with her since they met in college. She stood on a bench on the college campus, painting on a canvas. Curiously he stopped to talk with her. "Seems a bit high up there?" She looked at him with the most beautiful set of eyes he had ever seen. A bright smile captured on her face, her nose scrunched and smile lines clear upon her cheeks. "Nope! This is the perfect picture. Wanna see?"

And boy was he hooked on her. He found her doing that every day. Always coming to see her painting, being greeted by those glowing eyes and full faced smile.

The rest was history. They dated for 5 years, bought a home together, then eventually got married. Now they're hoping to grow their family, fill the empty corners of their home with kids of their own. The man had always loved space, similar to his wife. When he became an astronaut for NASA they were so ecstatic. He travelled the stars on many mission's, helping earths space programs with his discoveries, going farther and farther than any human had before.

Or so he believed.

This mission would be his last, he was sent to go to the outer edges of our solar system. Fly around pluto, and come back. Well a bit of a snag on the way turning around, he got caught in a tear in the reality of space, being ripped from his ship and inside the tear.

He woke up in an empty space, still in his flight suit. There was a wall in front of him, it glowed many different colors almost looking like a field of different cotton candy clouds. A enormous being, completely void of colors came out from inside the colors. Suddenly they only glowed a soft blue, the beings long hair draping over its face and outside the clouds, floating around the human.

"Am… I dead?. " Atticus asked, the being shook its head no. "Where am I?"

What sounded like a thousand different voices spoke all at once from the being "The light between infinity, Atticus"

The being explained themself to be a keeper, or guard of reality, not just one, but all reality. "Please, send me back home. I need to get back to my wife." The man spoke begging the being.

"I am only the keeper, I know not which universe you truly reside in. But, i can send you to the reality of your choosing. You must decide for yourself, which is your true home."

The man always kept a picture of his wife with him, back when they were young and their love had first been sewn into the fabric of time. "My true home is with her" he held the picture of his wife in his hands, showing it to the being. A tendril of hair brought the picture to their face. "My… I see. I will open the realities in which she resides." The being sounded quite sad, a hint of loneliness behind it all.

Tears appeared all around the floating astronaut. He peered into each one.

"I warn you, you might not like what you find in these worlds. Each reality you choose that is not yours will leave a mark on your soul i fear"

"As long as I'm with her, I don't care."

The rest of the story is his travels throughout these different universes. He feels her death in each and every one. Whether she is murdered, dies of disease, an accident, or even old age. He experiences it all. Never changing.

Still he hopes to see his love, those beautiful eyes and kind smile. He misses her. Soon minutes turn to days, days to years and years to centuries. Until the being gives him one final door. Excitedly he thinks this will be his universe at last.

He rips through the universe back to earth. Its his universe, though when he returned to his home, it had been that long. Centuries, his love long passed. It turns out her art had become huge in this future of his home. He goes to the city they lived in, its been turned into a memorial of her. Greeted by a wonderful mural of her, those same glowing eyes, that same perfect full faced smile.

It turns out with the rest of her life, she indeed filled the silent corners of their home. She opened an orphanage and school, teaching children art, science, space. She was a legend, a force for goodness and gentleness he always knew she was. At this time he heads to an exhibit with her works, and the final painting she had ever created in her life, was of him on the last day they spent together. It was a picture she had taken of him, he was smiling in his flight suit, wearing a pair of cloud shaped sunglasses , the clouds behind him all different colors and glowing bright in the picture.

He fell to his knees breaking down in tears, the tears seemed to float around him, as his body slowly started to turn void of color, the years catching up in seconds, he vanished

Back in the light between infinity. He woke up to look at himself, he was much larger, his hair long. No colors he could see. He was the keeper, doomed to be here for all infinity.

Finally the doorway to the clouds was open to him, as if it was a final tear for him to look through. He walked along the clouds for what seemed like ages, until he saw a familiar sight. A woman, standing, more like floating above the ground, painting clouds along the tear of the universe.

He ran and ran as fast as he could, soon his form started changing back, smaller, his colors came back, his hair the same length as before until he finally yelled "Dottie!" Jumping into the air to hold her.

She smiled, the one he had truly been looking for this entire time. "I told you my light, you will always find me in another life."

It ends with them turning into the light that glows in this tear, and slowly zooms out to the door, actually being a tear that completely heals itself. Healing the wound in reality.

[ha-youwish]

May I ask very nicely about the twewy au of your last fic? Pretty please 🥺

you read fast i just posted that lmao

this is the fic if anyone is wondering

okay so hm i really wasn’t prepared to talk about this. this fic came from an idea about post-apocalyptic situations, and im not sure where i got that idea from. so basically i started crafting a whole Thing based around that but then i scrapped it once my brain made the joke that its just The World Ending (with you) (again).

basically add this fic to my list of reasons i need to get diagnosed

anyways about the actual au shit going on in the background, please understand that this is hastily put together with duct tape so if it doesn’t make sense idk what to tell you

so it starts like this. this whole thing runs off the (correct) assumption that Neku is the most powerful being not in the UG right now, and possibly one of the most powerful in general. now someone (idk who, maybe another trigger-happy angel) decides that neku can be the perfect centerpiece for the next thing that will try to destroy shibuya.

and so, in some kind of ritual not to different from the taboo sigils from the first game. everyone in shibuya basically are like mindless wandering half-ghost things and theres a shitton of noise.

most UG folks and people who were caught up in the whole spell thing made it in one piece, but the rest of the city turned into those soulless beings, including rhyme and eri. and where did all those souls go? well. neku’s kinda still connected to all the minds in shibuya oops so guess what

now this ends up being kind of like some zombie apocalypse bc this whole thing Will spread to other areas of tokyo if they dont hurry and its already leaking into shinjuku, which is still recovering from their own world-ending event. and not only will this soullessness spread but so will the strain on neku which is fun.

the reason they have to be so cautious when going out (and why rindo being injured was a thing that was mentioned) is because of that whole “shitton of noise” thing i mentioned earlier that spread that soullessness stuff or whatever

sometime during a battle or something, shiki, beat, and neku sync up and realize very quickly how much hes been carrying and use the sync to help share the burden (but he silently refuses to let them actually help bc its That Bad that he doesn’t want them to feel even a little bit of it)

joshua’s abilities as composer allow him to help neku feel better almost exponentially, but the Ending the World Spell accounted for that and so it tends to do more damage after some time.

anyways at the point the fic is set in, they’ve found out how to reverse it (hopefully) by basically drawing giant No U sigils all over the city. the next part, the part that would come after the fic, is when neku would go to each sigil and activate them to get rid of some of the people in his head at a time until all of them were gone and the noise went away as well

i think thats all i got for this one. definitely not as interesting or fleshed out as other ones i have but i like the fic that came from it so who cares

[princeanxious]

was worried my ipad was gonna overheat after attempting like three insufficient doodles before settling on this one so have a littol W.I.P. for now that i title ‘Charging Time’ based from @delimeful’s Fake Title Prompt: Broken Wish!

Now I ramble under a cut bc i have Thoughts:

-now I can explain abt the the accidentally suggested dynamic like nothing was even suggested to b romantic in the actual prompt im well aware but brain literally Could Not give me ANYTHING to draw them doing without enough insp to draw it out, without having them interacting physically in some way to add life to the piece, which, yknow, doesn’t exactly fit this prompt or it’s base characters without reason, but monkey brain literally fought me for an hour straight on settling on something to even just LISTEN TO let alone let me draw them doing anything or even just standing knbkjhk so uhhhhh yeah

This next take isn’t canon to Lime’s piece at all, btw, just me wanting to run w/ this highkey specific interest that I have that stems from a combination of my love of g/t aus and bjd doll customization, aight? It’s just what I had in mind while giving Virge and Logan their designs and i figured why not share them?

-so: Virgil possesses a BJD(Ball-Jointed-Doll) that probably originally was very blank and forgotten and missing any personality(which fit well enough for the creepy aesthetic he was going for), buuut I wanna project, as someone who personally dabbles in BJD customization, that someone(maybe Roman or Remus, leaning towards Remus) found him, was Thrilled about the fact that it was haunted by a strong af but mostly just mischevious spirit that he just like, talked Virgil into letting him customize his vessle into something still v spooky but also hella cool looking, with a new segmented and articulated tail and inset eyes that, if Virgil so pleases, can pop out of place and rattle around in his head for a personal spooky trick(Virgil LOVES this, and loves the fact that he gets two different colored, non matching eyes to boot). His body stands at about 11 inches tall?

-Logan is like, 13 inches tall, and y’know, a sentient a.i. given form. I like to think that it makes more sense that he’s less sleek and more chonky because he needs all the space he can get for his hardware? Idk, but I like it alot. The glasses and tie he wears? Gifts from Virgil, something about it being an attempt to ‘help Logan look and visually be taken more serious the People Way, like Lo had said he wished for’ and now wears them seriously because they are the first hand-made gift he’s ever had. It probably makes him see Virgil as an even more super intelligent a.i. but, one step at a time, yknow?

anyway I like this concept A Whole Lot, Okay?