#it's a day late WHOOPS.

[arget-star]

I've Got All These Sparrin' Scars

Sakura Haruka x F!Reader

Summary: A companion piece to this, wherein Sakura celebrates White Day with you.

tags: fluff, canon-typical violence (there's a brief fight scene), not beta read. a creep hits on reader so terms like "pretty girl" and "baby" are used

a/n: once again i bring you a fic that is far longer than i ever meant for it to be. perhaps the ending is a bit rushed but that's okay we cringe on :)

wc: 4k (.........don't look at me.)

Thanks to Nirei’s tireless efforts, the former members of Furin Class 1-1 gather once a month for a casual dinner at Pothos. While not everyone is available, a sizable crowd still descends upon the café with all the enthusiasm (and appetite) they had in their high school days.

It’s a lovely tradition; one Sakura looks forward to, even if he won’t outright say as much. He’ll grumble and pout when he receives the text announcing their next dinner. Yet he always leaves early, hands shoved into his pants pockets and something close to excitement tucked in the corners of his mouth.

You kiss him farewell at the door. Tug at the lapels of his jacket so it lays just so while he watches you, expression soft. “Have fun,” you tell him, releasing your hold. He blows air out of his nose on instinct.

“Saw half these guys today already.”

“Now you’re going to see the other half. Bring me pack some pudding, please?”

He appreciates the way you at least acknowledge his complaints, unlike his friends whose tendency to completely ignore them has never gone away. You make him feel heard. (They do, too, but differently. Theirs is a language of unspoken understanding and fistfights.)

“S’long as I get the cherry,” he says, walking down the front steps. “…be home soon.”

You laugh softly, lifting your hand in a wave. His goodbyes are always so stilted. Unsure. Like that scared little boy who still lives inside his head expects you to be gone by the time he returns. You hope, one day, he’ll be able to reassure that little boy. “Tell everyone I said hi!”

Sakura—about to turn the corner—looks back at you. “Any other demands?” There’s no bite in the words, only fond resignation.

“Don’t miss me too much.”

You’d bet money his flush lasts all the way to Pothos.

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

With Sakura gone, and no pressing responsibilities demanding your attention, you spend the evening relaxing. You’re diligently not thinking about floral arrangements or what injuries Sakura will incur while on patrol. Work is most certainly a tomorrow problem, and your boyfriend is simply out enjoying a nice dinner with his friends.

Well. There’s still a thirty percent chance he will, inevitably, be sporting a bruise or two by the end of the night.

Time passes slowly but pleasantly. You make dinner—a simple rice cooker stir fry and accompanying teriyaki sauce. You throw plenty of vegetables into the dish despite someone’s disdainful scoff echoing in your ears. It’s a personal goal of yours to get him to eat one singular piece of, say, broccoli without him silently removing it from his meal.

Once dinner’s finished, you set up your laptop on the low table so you can rewatch an episode or two of your favorite show while curled on the couch. Neither you nor Sakura have expressed any interest in purchasing a television. Your computer works perfectly fine whenever you two settle in for movie night.

(“If we did get a tv,” Sakura explained one evening, fingers loosely entwined with yours, “then everyone would insist on havin’ video game night here.”

You squeezed his hand. Sakura’s video game skills had improved, but not by much. He’d never stand for being humiliated in his own home. “I don’t really watch a lot of shows, anyway.”)

Through with both dinner and your show, you languidly rise from the couch, arms reaching above your head. You don’t expect Sakura for another couple hours, barring any mishaps. So you turn on some music, something mellow and soft, humming along with the melody as you clean the kitchen.

Minimal chores now done, you begin your bedtime routine. You shower. Wash your face and brush your teeth, basking in the simple pleasure of enjoying a cozy night alone.

Sakura returns while you’re in the middle of blow drying your hair. You don’t hear him come in over the noise; just see his shadow playing against the walls, a flash of white hair out of the corner of your eye. He treads softly, deliberately, like he never wants to take up more space than necessary. You thumb the blow dryer’s switch, flicking it off, then set it on the counter.

“Welcome home,” you call, padding into the small kitchen. Plastic rustles. Sakura’s in front of the fridge, placing something inside. His shoulders stiffen, then relax.

“…ate the cherry on the way home,” he returns, pivoting around. (Bruise free, your brain helpfully supplies.) The fridge door thumps closed behind him.

You laugh quietly, the sound tapering off once you catch the slight pout of his lips, how his expression seems a little distant. He distracted; otherwise, he’d comment on the fact you’re wearing his shirt. Quiet momentarily seeps in. You give yourself a mental shake and brush past him, heading for the cutlery drawer.

Utensils rattle. “How was everyone?” You ask lightly, grabbing two spoons.

“Fine.”

He scratches at his nape. You maneuver around him, reopening the fridge to claim your pudding. They asked too many personal questions, you think, undoing Kotoha’s careful wrapping of the to-go bag. “Mm. Is Kiryu-kun still begging you to come in for a haircut?”

“Don’t trust him near my head with scissors,” Sakura replies, hand dropping from his neck. He absently swipes one of the spoons. “Bunch of annoyin’ jerks.”

You nod. Pick up your own spoon and dig happily into the dessert. “Yeah? What did they do this time?”

His white eyebrow twitches. He forcefully cuts into the pudding’s opposite side, cheeks tingeing light pink. “N-nothin’! Just bein’ nosey!” They’re annoying because they care. Hell, he wouldn’t have survived high school without their obnoxious, nosey asses. But did they have to carry all that over into your relationship?

He’ll be grateful for it once he’s done being irritated.

There it is. Licking a smear of whipped cream off your lips, you tilt your head. Something prickles the back of your thoughts, a realization you haven’t quite reached. “So the usual, then.” You scoop up another bite. “Thank you for bringing this, by the way.”

The sudden shift in topic pulls him from whatever thoughts he’s currently turning over and over in his head. Sakura’s attention snaps into focus, like he’s finally seeing you for the first time since he arrived home. His eyes widen, then narrow.

“Is that my shirt?!”

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

Two days later, that almost-epiphany finally strikes. White Day is next week.

Of course Sakura’s friends would bombard him with questions about his plans. Small wonder he was so pensive that night. You don’t mention it—the holiday is holding less and less sway every passing year, anyway.

Sakura gives no indication he’s thinking about the matter further, either.

You’re content with treating White Day as a normal, run of the mill weekday. So when the expected morning does roll around, you make breakfast and get ready for work and ask him about yesterday’s patrol and completely ignore any extra significance about it.

You forget, that sometimes, Sakura can be quite sneaky.

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

A small bouquet of white roses sits atop your work table. It certainly wasn’t there when you left last night. Perhaps Mariko-san received a rush order after you left? Or she was working on a new window display and set it aside for your opinion? You slip your apron over your head, absently reaching behind you to tie the strings as you step closer. The bouquet is small, beautifully arranged, interspersed with sprigs of blue baby’s breath.

Apron tied, you reach a hand out, fingertips brushing against impossibly soft petals.

There’s a ribbon wound around the cylindrical glass vase, its shade of blue almost matching the baby’s breath. Your favorite shade of blue, you realize belatedly, mere curiosity now bleeding into confusion. A tiny flutter of hope stirs in your chest. No card nestles among the flowers, no tag hangs from the expertly tied bow, and yet, you wonder.

Footsteps sound behind you. They slow, coming to a stop once Mariko-san stands beside you. “Good morning!” The old woman beams, as chipper as ever. You don’t have time to murmur a reply before she speaks again. Honestly, you can only admire her seemingly endless reserves of energy. “I see you discovered your gift. That Sakura of yours is quite a sweet boy, isn’t he?”

You hum in agreement, your small kernel of hope now transformed into delight. A smile grows along your lips. Fingertips again gently caress the rose petals, then skim lightly along the baby’s breath delicate blossoms. They shiver underneath your touch.

Gifts were not high on your list of expectations for today. You knew better than to hold Sakura to so-called normal expectations. That’s no fault of is, nor do you mean to sound cruel. He had no opportunity to learn those expectations beyond watching every day interactions from the sidelines, and you wonder how much of that observation was meant as a survival skill instead of mirroring peer behavior.

“—knew your favorite color without hesitation, too. Wasn’t easy keeping this a secret from you.”

Mariko’s voice filters back into your thoughts. You lower your hand from the petals. “When did he come in?”

The old woman pauses. Purses her lips in thought. “Last Thursday. Poor boy was here after dawn. Looked like he hadn’t slept all night!”

No, he hasn’t been sleeping much these past couple weeks. Just as Valentine’s Day inspires increased foot traffic around Keisei Street, so does White Day. Sakura, thankfully, hasn’t come home with anything worse than skinned knuckles; the exhaustion is getting to him now, and he’s often just waking up by the time you return to the apartment for dinner.

You remember last Thursday, specifically because he wasn’t asleep beside you when you awoke. Occasionally, he does stay out until the blush of dawn turns golden with sunlight, cleaning up ruined property from particularly nasty fights or enjoying a free cup of coffee from a grateful patron. So while your levels of worry didn’t rise from their usual baseline, it did strike you as unusual.

He’d come home some twenty minutes later, yawning, suit jacket slung over one arm, tie loosened, acting perfectly normal. Just like that, your concern had faded.

Now, warmth continues to spread underneath your skin. “Sneaky,” you say, then lean over the roses, inhaling their soft, sweet scent. Baby’s breath tickles your cheeks.

You imagine Sakura, standing in the middle of the shop, wildly out of his depth, hands shoved in his pockets while frowning at the variety of flowers on display. You laugh quietly into the roses. Your Sakura indeed.

After another inhale, you lift your head, facing Mariko. “Thank you, Mariko-san.”

Her face wrinkles as she laughs. “For you, my dear, anything.” She pats your shoulder once before shuffling off to the front of the store.

You reach into your apron pocket and remove your phone. The first picture is just for you; a memory caught in pixelated amber. For the subsequent photos, you adjust the angle, scoot the vase a little closer, mess with the lighting. The camera shutter flickers in rapid succession.

A bell chimes faintly, followed by Mariko-san’s voice. A customer, presumably, rumbles a reply. You analyze the handful of pictures now in your camera roll, deciding on one where a shaft of sunlight makes the petals glow.

You send that one to Sakura, simply captioned, ‘they’re beautiful. thank you <3’

Phone set aside, you consider the bouquet one final time as more voices echo just beyond the curtain separating you from view. One rose near the center calls out to you; wiggling it free, you twirl it between two fingers, then deftly snap the stem down to about two inches or so. You tuck the flower behind your ear.

You’re slipping your phone back into the apron pocket when it buzzes. Already grinning, you tilt the device up. Welcome.

Perhaps today is a little magical, after all.

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

”Why’s there a flower in your hair?” Sakura asks, busying himself with taking the bouquet off your hands while you remove your shoes in the genkan.

You hadn’t expected to find him still at home this evening; another pleasant surprise on top of the flowers. “Good evening to you, too,” you tease, placing your shoes neatly next to his sneakers. “It was festive for the day. And I felt pretty, especially knowing it was a flower you got me.”

He nearly trips on his way to the kitchen, shoulders rising up to his ears. “Yer always pretty!”

Warmth spreads across your face, down into your chest. Compliments are not rare, but they are precious, jewels in a treasure chest. Sakura gives them when he means them, not as empty, pithy phrases out of mere obligation. “Thank you.”

You follow him into the kitchen, lightly touching two fingers to the rose behind your ear. The outermost petals wilted throughout the day, curling inwards as brown creeps along their edges. “Wait. Don’t you have patrol tonight?”

He’s so, so gentle when he places the bouquet atop the counter. “Asked Nakamura if I could join patrol later.” His back is still facing you. “Thought we could go out to dinner.”

Oh. Your heart stutters, that warm feeling returning tenfold. He’s deceptively good at planning dates. Always thinks two steps ahead, agonizing over the details, only to shyly ask without quite looking over his shoulder. You’ve not yet figured out where the threads of his awkwardness about romance and fear of mockery intersect. All you can do, for now, is fray their edges day by loving day.

“Give me ten minutes to change, okay?” You dart beside him and plant a quick kiss against his cheek.

Before you can pull away, he wraps a hand around your wrist, fingers loose enough that you could break free if you wanted. His touch is warm.

“Keep the flower in your hair. Please.”

Your heart is about to burst out of your chest. “I will.”

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

“Come on, pretty girl! Have a drink with us!” The tallest one in the assembled group of men—clearly their leader—cajoles. His leer is all teeth. A chip mars his top left incisor in a way that could be charming were he not a total creep. Snickers echo from his cronies.

You glance between them and Chipped Tooth, hands instinctively rising to about chest level, prepared to push him away or wriggle out of his hold should he try anything. He looks mere seconds away from reaching for you. “Not interested,” you snap back, tamping down the nerves churning in your stomach.

Chipped Tooth scoffs. “Aw, don’t be like that, baby! We’re upstandin’ gentleman. We can’t let a cute thing like you spend a holiday alone.”

Sweat turns your palms clammy. You risk a glance behind you, finding nothing but the closed door of the restaurant.

It’s a cute, hole in the wall ramen shop, the kind you’d walk right past if not for the enticing smells of miso broth and pork. On your walk over, Sakura had explained he only discovered the place because he’d saved the owner’s son from becoming caught in some low-level gang’s rampage. The gang had already destroyed half the street by the time Sakura arrived. The son—brave but lacking skill, according to your boyfriend—bravely tried keeping the shop safe. He earned a black eye for his trouble, but it could have been far worse without intervention.

The owner made a point to come over to your table during dinner, profusely thanking Sakura and making not so subtle comments about how adorable of a couple you and Sakura make. Throughout the entire conversation, all you could think was, he is so cherished.

And right as you’d been about to leave, the son had appeared, asking for advice in the event he’s caught in another fight. You told Sakura you wanted some fresh air; not long after stepping onto the sidewalk, the men had descended like wolves circling prey. Maybe they’re the gang Sakura stopped before.

“I’m out with my boyfriend.”

More snickers. Chipped Tooth makes a show of looking around. “Yeah? Some boyfriend. I’m running out of patience, pretty girl. Let—”

Light spills onto the street. Clanging dishes and low chatter can be heard. An arm extends and you shrink back as a shadow blurs past you.

Sakura flies out of nowhere, outstretched leg connecting with the leader’s chest. He stumbles back; there’s a collective intake of breath from his cronies. Sakura lands between you and the gang. “Stay back,” he orders over his shoulder, tugging on the lapels of his jacket.

He doesn’t wait for a response before diving into the fray. You back up until your shoulders hit the rough brick wall of the building’s facade. You’ve seen plenty of fistfights. Dealt with injuries they cause without thinking too hard about it. But there’s something especially captivating about the way he fights. All confidence and grace and speed, not one movement wasted.

Three men move in to attack. You bite back a cry; it isn’t worth distracting Sakura and re-alerting everyone to your presence. He notices, immediately flipping into a handstand, spinning around in a truly impressive display of core and upper body strength. His kicks land, hard. Someone’s nose cracks.

You flinch as the trio falls, stunned and bleeding. Sakura regains his feet. Only four guys remain standing, Chipped Tooth included. “Tsk, I didn’t know she was taken! We coulda solved this like gentleman.”

“Shut the hell up,” Sakura returns. He cracks his neck. “Haven’t I kicked your asses already?”

“Nah. I’d remember a freak like you.”

The insult is weak. Still, you ball your hands into fists, ready to leap in there yourself.

In reply, Sakura runs forward, raised fist aimed for Chipped Tooth, but one of the remaining men steps in, covering for his leader. It’s incredible, how quickly Sakura adjusts in a fight; all that momentum shifts and he jumps, shin connecting directly against the guy’s temple.

He drops like a stone, and Sakura’s already moving on, dispatching the final two idiots before rounding on Chipped Tooth.

But you’ve lost track of the fight. A small, black object had tumbled to the ground in time with your boyfriend’s leap. It bounces along, nearly lost amid the groaning bodies, until it comes to a stop some ten feet away from you.

Tearing your attention away, you find Sakura with a hand curled in Chipped Tooth’s t-shirt, poised for one last strike. Heart pounding, you take a cautious step away from the wall at the same time Sakura speaks.

“Guys like you are pathetic. Bunch’a lame bastards preyin’ on women, then gettin’ pissed when they want nothin’ to do with ya.”

You step over a fallen gang member, then another. You hear rather than see Sakura’s fist make contact with the leader’s nose. He falls, unconscious, as you crouch down, fingers curling around soft velvet. A jewelry box?

“Are you—the hell’re you doin’!?”

Standing, you give an apologetic smile. “I’m fine. You got here before they could do anything.”

He stalks over, all adrenaline and—worry. The genuine concern behind his eyes makes your lips part, prize in your hand momentarily forgotten. “Sakura, I’m okay.”

“Then why’re you kneeling in the middle of these assholes?” Absently, he shakes out his hand, knuckles bloodstained. It’s the only mark on him, and you’re fairly confident that’s not his blood, anyway.

Sakura conducts his own once over, that coiled anxiety loosening when he verifies you’re unharmed. His anger isn’t at you; it’s just, finding you, surrounded by the exact type of men he protects women from night after night…that’s a certain type of fear he hopes he’ll never feel again.

The question goes unanswered. He notices the box. Pats at his pockets, mouth twisting into a grimace even as he flushes scarlet. “That—it ain’t worth you getting hurt for.”

You hold the box out to him. “I didn’t want to risk one of them stealing it.”

He eyes the box. Considers snatching it from your palm and begging you to forget you ever saw it. Instead, he shoves his hands in his pockets and jerks his head to the side. “Don’t open it here.” Sakura pivots on his heel and starts walking.

Nodding, you fall in step beside him, brushing your arm against his. The flush hasn’t faded, and he looks like he just swallowed a lemon. The streetlights highlight the flashing gold of his eye but reveal nothing of his inner thoughts.

It’s not a far walk; just a block down the street, turning a corner until a park bench is revealed. You keep the box clutched to your chest as you sit.

Sakura plops down next to you, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Meant to give it to you before I left for patrol. I know the tradition is usually chocolate or whatever.”

He says it like he doesn’t care if you hate his gift. Like it’s an afterthought. You lower your hand. “May I open it?” It feels important that you ask.

He stares. “Why’re you askin’? Do whatever you want.”

In other circumstances, you’d laugh. He’s putting up that wall you so meticioulslcy wedged yourself through. You don’t want to make him feel like he’s doing something wrong, or all his time and effort has gone unappreciated.

Gently, you pry the lid open, the tiny pop revealing a necklace. The delicate chain ends in a stylized silver branch. Two small leaves grow from it, a cherry blossom sprouting from the branch tip.

*“*Oh, Haruka,” you breathe, running the pad of your thumb along the cool metal. Simple, yet all the more beautiful for it. You look up at him in awe. He’s avoiding eye contact, scarlet to his ears. “This is lovely. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Sakura audibly swallows. “You really like it?” The two hours he’d spent browsing at the mall with his friends weren’t totally worthless, then. Relief punches through his chest. He was so scared he’d mess this stupid holiday up and piss you off to the point you’d want to leave.

What a stupid thing to think.

You scoot closer to him. “I promise. Hey.” Your hand alights on his cheek. He finally meets your eyes. “Today was perfect.”

“Do I have to do this shit again next year?”

This time, you do laugh, bright and happy. “No.” You move your hand and lean forward, pressing a kiss to his heated skin. Sakura freezes. You pull away, concerned he may actually pass out from all the blood rushing to his head.

“Will you put the necklace on for me?”

────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────

Bonus:

Dinner is well underway when Nirei nudges his best friend. “Sakura-san,” he starts, voice lowered, “what did you get her for White Day?”

Sakura, mouth full of fried onigiri, stares at Nirei, then looks away. His cheeks puff out as he swallows. “…Haven’t gotten anythin’ yet.”

Nirei’s eyes widen. “What? It’s next week! Do you need help shopping?”

“Keep your damn voice down!” Sakura hisses, trying for discretion and failing miserably. He feels more than sees a dozen pairs of eyes slowly find their way to his rapidly heating face. Grains of rice stick uncomfortably in his throat.

Suo gives that infuriating smile of his. “Ah, I see. You have no idea what to purchase”

A fist slams onto the table, rattling the dishware. “S-s-s-shaddup! That ain’t true! And since when were you part of this conversation?!”

“Then what did you have in mind?”

“None of your business!”

Nirei places a placating hand on Sakura’s shoulder and shoots Suo a look that says cut it out, please. Kiryu has lowered his phone, a musical chime faintly emanating from whatever game he’s currently hooked on. The dining room has fallen entirely too quiet for Sakura’s liking. Two more seconds and he’s storming out of here, the fact he’s a grown man notwithstanding.

“Hey, Sakura.” Someone pipes up, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s Anzai. “When have we ever let you down?”

Sakura opens his mouth to retort, but he finds his anger has melted away, replaced by that weird, pleasantly warm feeling in his chest that only appears when he remembers he’s no longer on his own.

(They all agree to meet at the mall on Saturday, where they spend a solid two hours browsing jewelry stores and debating the significance of bracelets over necklaces. In the end, Sakura purchased the first thing he’d seen that reminded him of you.)

[gearrel]

Enemies to lovers arc completed

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

HE'S DONE!!!!! With my design for The Hermit finally complete, I now have stitched all 3 of the Dragon Age: Inquisition Solas tarot card triptych, as I envisioned when I first started this project back in 2021. WHEW!

This card was by far the hardest to translate into the stained-glass style I used (as seen in the DAI dialogue wheel icons, special options, etc). Designing it was a big pain but I'm really happy with how my hopeful vision translated to the finished piece, with using the gold to outline the inner sections instead of black to mimic the gold "magic" symbolized in the original card. This one also had soooo many tiny sections that I regretted once the design was printed, but just powered through anyway, and I do think the final version turned out great despite the frustrations.

More detailed shots of my Heirophant and Tower designs at the links! I do also sell patterns for these on ko-fi and etsy, the newer ones will be added eventually (or message me if you really want one and I'll make time to get it up sooner).

[renirae]

what I think the season one archival staff would dress up as for halloween!!

Jon - would not dress up. he has a professional image to uphold !!

Sasha - I feel like she'd go with a classic, like maybe a witch or a vampire!! or something matching with Tim :)

Martin - probably wouldn't have the courage to do anything fancy, but after badgering from his coworkers (aka mostly Tim) he would go for one of the classics too, like a ghost/mummy/zombie?

Tim - would absolutely go overboard with something extravagant and lots of accessories, but also maybe not something actually getting too close to the supernatural. so like, a pirate? or a movie character? OR something RIDICULOUSLY spooky (specifically to annoy Jon lol)

alternatively:

a few days before halloween, Jon walks in on the archival assistants discussing how they're going to dress up. he frowns and tells them wearing halloween costumes is actually against the office dress code, as dressing in such a ridiculous way would be highly unprofessional.

he walks in on halloween to see all of them dressed up as him.

(and yes they absolutely deny it - them? dressing up for halloween against Jon's strict instructions?? they would NEVER!! they simply decided to all wear dress shirts, ties, and sweater vests on the same day by pure coincidence :))

[loktauri]

Happy anniversary to poetry

[biblically-accurate-dca]

day 4: angel & demon >:)

[itslilacokay]

(lllate...) CHOSENWEEK DAY 3 : INTERACTIONS

i swear they rehearsed this

also dont worry theyre fine, adobe animate isnt though

+ a bonus, based off this community post

forgot to add promptlist and obligatory chosenweek announcement post for context blahblah yeahhh yayay blah

[gojonanami]

it’s been one year since I started posting on here!! 😭

wanted to thank you all for sticking around and being here with me — you all have truly made my year so much better and brighter

I truly started posting on here to cope with what was going on in my life — I had a really shitty job, my dad was dying, and I just was a complete mess of a person

and things are definitely better now — that’s because of you all 💕🥹 thank you for being so incredible and supportive and lovely — for every comment, ask, reblog, like or anything else. it truly means the world

I will be doing something to celebrate that and the milestones I’ve hit (once work chills out a bit 😭)

[steveseddie]

steddie | rating: t | 8,8k | tags: modern setting, no upside down, crush at first sight, flirting, first kiss, chrissy & eddie are best friends, dustin & steve are siblings, steve’s yellow sweater

for @steddie-spooktober day four “corn maze” and day twenty-nine “sweater”

Summary:

Eddie heads along a straight stretch of the corn maze that ends with a sharp curve to the left. He takes it at a fast speed, eager to get out of here– only to run straight into something solid. “Jesus Christ!” Eddie curses, stumbling back a few steps.

Two hands grab his shoulders to steady him and a male voice says, “Woah, careful there!”

“I’m fine. Dude, what the fuck are you doing creeping around fucking corners?” Eddie asks, finally looking up at the guy and nearly swallowing his tongue.

Because staring down at him, with big hazel eyes tinted with concern and a cute divot between his eyebrows, is the hottest guy Eddie has ever seen.

“I wasn’t creeping,” the guy scoffs, dropping his hands from Eddie’s shoulders to his own hips. “You’re the one charging through the maze like a bull, man, someone chasing you or something?”

Eddie lets out a snort. “I’m just trying to get the fuck out of here but this place is a fucking– well, a fucking maze.” The guy lets out a giggly snort and Eddie melts a little. “Anyway, sorry for slamming into you.”

He waves Eddie off. “No worries. I play sports,” he says, grinning, “I’m kinda used to being tackled.”

Eddie’s eyes roam over him. Even under his coat and his sweater, he can tell the guy has a broad chest, nice arms. Nice thighs too, filling up his tight jeans nicely.

He unintentionally licks his lips. “Yeah, you felt– um, solid. It was like slamming into a freaking wall.”

A very sexy wall, Eddie thinks.

or Eddie gets lost in a corn maze and ends up finding something better than the exit

read full fic on ao3

[pickingberrys]

billie eilish christmas looks

pickingmas day 3

[royalarchivist]

Pac: I'm just gonna lay down here while you guys build, you know? I'm gonna- just gonna enjoy the moment, you know, it's such a good view here.

Tubbo: Lemme just- oh wait wait wait, lay down, lay down, lay down, lay down, lay down.

Pac: I'm gonna... ok?

Tubbo: Just- just lay down... [Las Casualonas dances on him] This is for you, this is for you, king.

Fit: [Immediately pulls out his potato cannon and shoots Tubbo]

Pac: [Laughs] Fit, you seeing this- [Laughs as Tubbo gets shot and set on fire]

Fit: [Still shooting Tubbo] I'm sorry, I'm sorry, misfire, misfire, misfire!

Tubbo: OW OW OW, you're gonna kill me, I only have 10 hearts!

Fit: [Still shooting Tubbo] Misfire, misfire, misfire!

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]

Tubbo: Fit, I'm so close to death-

Fit: I'm so sorry- oh Tubbo I'm so sorry [Hitting Tubbo with his scythe]

Pac: Oh my god, Fit!

[Tubbo dies]

Pac: FIT! Oh my god, the misclick...

Fit: I don't know what- it was a misclick!

Pac: Oh Fit, your keyboard is broken, right? Remember?

Fit: Yeah, it was a misclick, Pac, you saw it, you witnessed it, yeah.

Pac: Oh my god, it's the first time he has been like- oh probably not the first time, you see the skeleton right here? Right there?

Fit: [Laughs]

Pac: [Laughs] Fit, are you doing this every day? Are you killing Tubbo every day?

Fit: No I- this was my [embarrassed] first time killing him.... No, it was just-

Pac: ARE YOU SURE? Then who killed-

Fit: I don't know where the other dead body came from!

Pac: [Laughing] Oh my god...

Tubbo: I didn't peg you as the jealous type, FitMC.

Fit: I'm sorry, I just- it was a misclick- a misfire-

[dragonkittyipod]

☄️. :: NEAR'S BIRTHDAY ★ day 1 : the star ◟@nearsbday◝

[doink-boink]

DRAWTOBER DAY 16 - WITCH

[loktauri]

Hermit A Day: Day 12 -> Cleo!

The ruler of the Ruins. No style experimentation for this round, I'm knackered from revision o(-<

[cybernightart]

late valentines day doodle i forgot to post lol

gotta love character development XD

(also sneak peak at my monty design)

these drawings where actually done months apart so its kinda realistic to how my au goes XD if you change the 4 months in to years at least.

sleepy bear hugs<3

i need to finish this at some point

Human glamFronnie doodle 💅✨

Kith

Now just some additional Freddy doodles, because my Freddy has a cape lol

[amphibia-a-day]

Day 1094 of Amphibia Screenshots

Episode: The Third Temple