stained canvas

Credence Barebone x Reader- Warm Hugs and Cocoa Mugs

Credence Barebone x Reader- Warm Hugs and Cocoa Mugs

A/N: My first Credence x Reader imagine! This was actually really fun to write, and this may be one of my favorites so far. I may do a part two in the future but let me know if this should happen for sure. You are all fabulous and amazing people :) Enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of pain and angst (Credence is a cinnamon roll protect him) also mass quantities of fluff :3

Credence breathed in his new surroundings. Mary Lou had decided to move some of the meeting spots for the Second Salemers in an attempt to gain a fractal of support for their cause. Instead of looking out onto the busy street of New York, his eyes were focused on a smaller café downtown, the type that had little potted plants on the windows and welcoming fragrances of scrumptious treats sailing through the breeze.

But that wasn’t the only thing that caught Credence’s attention. You caught his eye one day as you stepped out to bring the chalkboard that promoted a sale on biscuits in to shield it from the rain. The cloudy weather only made your bold persona stand out more to him. Your hair was only slightly drenched, but it still looked perfectly styled. Your apron had tiny little coffee stains dotting over its canvas material, most likely from spilling a few orders. Your notepad was tucked loosely inside one your pockets and its pair the pen rested gently behind your ear. Your smile wasn’t the kind of malicious grin that he was used to seeing, but instead it was almost warm. Insults did not spill toxically, but instead sweet compliments of customers’ hats and ushering welcomes poured like silky honey. He was utterly enchanted, captivated, intoxicated with you and your wonder. He just wanted to know you a little more.


Credence turned back towards the voice that summoned him away from you. Mary Lou’s had a strict look etched on her face. Her scowl said what words didn’t need to. He was slacking again, he knew he was but he couldn’t help it. His heart wasn’t in this, it wasn’t his choice to stand outside with papers all day.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” he said while tipping his hat back town as he proceeded to try and pass out flyers.

Little did he know, you glanced over at him just as much as he did towards you. At this moment you were collecting leftover plates and cups to take to the back room to be washed, but you couldn’t help but notice that Credence was back in front of the building again. Every day he came down with the Second Salemers to pass out more useless flyers, or attempted to at least. At first you didn’t know his name, but you soon picked it up when you hear the older woman yelling at him for absurd reasons. You found him mysterious and hidden, but at the same time mesmerizing and sweet. His dark hair didn’t appear to match his gentle personality you had seen him exhibit when around the other kids. You picked up the last of the dishes and glanced once more out the window before returning to your shift.

Hours past the day and slipped into the night when Credence found himself outside again. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be out right now, but he couldn’t stay. Mary Lou had beaten him again, with her reasoning being that he ‘stared too much at people without giving them flyers.’ He looked down as his torn hands. They were bruised and aching from the searing cuts of open flesh. Battered, bruised, and broken, he sat in the streets on a curb. Like his hands, his heart laid mangled and aching in his chest, desperate for acceptance.

He was a freak he decided. An outcast, a freak, a useless piece of nothing that would surely fade away out of existence soon enough. Like a dandelion in the wind, his hope and joy had disappeared and scattered far too high and fast to stay with them.

His cries echoed in the empty streets as flickering street lamps were the only sign of movement. He didn’t belong. He didn’t belong with a family, he didn’t belong with Mary Lou, and he didn’t belong anywhere at all. His form shivered slightly as his breath shook and seeped out like smoke in the night. Broken, he sat still, bawling quite loudly with little sniffles from time to time.

When he put his head down again, he heard a faint voice beckon to him.
“Are you okay?” it spoke. Credence froze in his spot and looked up to see your e/c eyes staring back at him. He wondered why you of all people were out here, but then he realized where he was. He was simply on the side of the café that he was previously standing near earlier and you must have been working still. Your hair fell past your face and you gently reached out one of your hands to him.
You spoke once more, but quieter this time, “You don’t have to be alone out here, it’s pretty cold. Do you want to come inside?”

His sobbing had softened to a mere trickle of tears, but he happily obliged and took your offer. Wordlessly, he accepted your hand as you led him inside.

The interior was extremely different than his own home, if he could even call the hellish place a home. The inside was coated on a yellow glow, most likely from the dangling lights along the walls everywhere. Each seat had a slight cushion to them, and each was more comfortable than his own bed. Much like a soft hug, the smell of baked goods and various types of coffee nudged him into a state of serene comfort, a feeling he was foreign to. You sat him down at one of the tables before you left back to the kitchen. Credence instantly began to worry. He was alone again, for the café was past closing hours. He wondered if you would come back, or if you would leave him like everyone else did.

However, these thoughts subsided briefly as you came back out from behind the tall counters. Your flowing walk came back into view as you held a tray of two mugs and some scones, more items that credence was unfamiliar to having. You set the tray down smoothly as if you were trying not to scare him before talking to him once more.

“I brought you some Cocoa and sweets, they aren’t as fresh but I thought it would help you feel a little better.“

Credence looked hesitant. No one had offered him something like this before. He imagined you as caring, but this confirmed his assumptions. You were wonderful.

“T-Thank you, um..” he trailed off, guilt searing him once more like a knife as he regretted not knowing your name.

With a small giggle you responded, “It’s Y/n, Credence.”

He stopped sipping the warm mug in his hands. How did you know his name?

“I hope you don’t find it odd that I know your name, but I have heard that other woman say it a few times. I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

He was touched. The empty hole of his missing heart suddenly felt a little warmer. He wasn’t sure if it was the drink or your care, but he definitely felt different.

“Do you want to talk about why you were upset?” you asked, not wanting to pressure him. He looked down at his hands, mentally debating as to whether or not he should show you. You had offered him food, a drink, a place to sit, and most importantly, your loving kindness. Now it was his turn to add to the exchange, by giving you his trust. He never did this, as he was often hurt or laughed at in the end, but you were different. He could just tell. With a heavy sigh, he lifted a closed fist onto the table, and opened it up. It was like watching a flower blossom, he was giving himself to you, to trust and accept, to let you into his heart.

However, he instantly panicked when you gasped. He was sure he had let himself get too close to you, for now you were scared. His hideous hands had frightened you, and it was all his fault. His hand sealed in shame while he tried to hide it from your sight, but your soft ones opened it back up again. Confused, he looked up with more tears brimming his eyes. His eyes locked with yours, his own tears mirroring yours as they slipped down your pink cheeks.

“D-did the woman do this to you C-Credence?”

At this, he broke. He let out all the pain that had stayed with him for so long. He had no one to seek safety with for all those years, and now, you were staying with him. You noticed his state and asked if you could hug him so you didn’t scare him. Once he gave you permission, you wrapped your arms around him, just letting him cry and tell you what was wrong. Credence needed you. He just didn’t think you would like him; he thought you would run away or bully him like the others.

Once the majority of his sobs left his body and he had calmed down a bit, you passed him back a scone and his mug. You brushed his hair with your hand and let him hold you. By now the two of you were on the floor of the café, but you didn’t care. Credence needed someone to hug and hold, someone who would give him comfort.

“Y-Y/n?” he whispered out.

“Yes Credence?”

“Thank y-you for not running away from me. I know I’m a monstrous freak.”
You stopped him immediately. “Credence you are not a monster, far from it actually,” you whispered as he gazed up at you.

“You just need someone Credence, someone who will treat you right because you’re special. You are special Credence. Very special and very sweet and very sensitive and you need someone who won’t scare you anymore. All you need is a little love Credence.”

He questioned you again, “Y/n?”


He sniffled before going on with his thought, “D-do you love me?”

You looked down at the trembling boy who was obviously in shock with what had just come from his mouth. He thought about how much he was weirding you out, how strange you must think of him as now. No one could love him.

“Yes Credence, I do love you.”

You were right, all he did was need a little love. He never expected the innocent and sweetheart who served people drinks all day would be the one to say it though. A few more tears slipped between the two of you as your comfortable held one another still. He knew he should be home or Mary Lou would be cross, but he knew he needed you more. You two remained sitting close to one another as you whispered sweet words.

Credence, for the first time, felt was love and care was like. It was soft like your hair and kisses on his forehead, sweet like the scones and cocoa you brought out, and warm like your comforting cuddles. You radiated a calming kindness that he had never known so well prior to this night. Love was in your heart, and now, it was in his own as well.

Part 2:

Won't You Listen
  • Won't You Listen
  • Too Close To Touch
  • Too Close To Touch - EP

Are you happy? Do you hear me?
Did you feel our hearts breaking slowly?
Maybe all you care for is all you see, shut our hope in a bottle and cast to sea.
It’s perceptions of what could have been, what might have been,
what should have been. 
Through these veins, out the pen, Stain the canvas every night.
I’d be lying if I said I’m fine somewhat. It’s hard to breathe when it’s tight sealed shut.

Blood stained canvas.

“Will a veil of shadow further consume what is left of me. I retreat to a blistering cold that shields me from the flames of a hell of my own creation. I stare into her blank eyes and though I see memories, love, and pain, she sees nothing of me now but the monster that I have become. My skin too singed by the obsidian flames within my soul, aching for the healing touch of her gentle hands, but how do you tell someone that they love you? I welcome the cold oblivion within the darkest reaches of my mind, what happens to my body will be the work of my demons as they exploit my absence. When the walls I build around myself shield from the pain I see when I reach out to touch someone and she sees nothing but a stranger. Do I leave and allow her a peaceful life without my torment? Or do I stay as she has requested to fill a blank slate in her soul? Resentment and sorrow cloud my judgement, with a longing I fear will never pass. So find me in the cold wasteland, where I wait for my flesh to grow pale and hide away the scars that remind me of you, that no longer mean anything to you.”

(This marks the beginning of a new era for Richter and Xiamara ( @pearlescent-scales ). With her memory wiped clean, Richter is a new monster that even he finds too terrifying to gaze at in the mirror. From here forth he will be a specter in the life of a ghost that looks upon him like a stranger as she fills the void in her life. What will come of him during this trial will only be determined by something the like of which fate has no claim, a love long lost and a love too strong to let him stop breathing.)

A Blood Stained Canvas...

“What is it to feel? Pain, anguish, hope, joy… love. I don’t know what it is to feel anything anymore. I was lost to the lifestream in defense of a friend is what many people have told me. Whether I believe it or not makes no difference. It’s something to go by so I feel I have some kind of story to tell. With no memories or connections to my past, it’s up to me pick up the pieces of what my life supposedly was, despite the fact I am numb both physically and emotionally.

Then he came along.

A self-proclaimed monster that tells me I am his. Though I look into his eyes and see nothing. Yet… I can actually feel something stirring. He tries to brush a hand against my cheek and feel searing heat against my skin. Maybe I’ve been so accustomed to this numbness that when he touches me it almost hurts, or he’s just that intense to elicit such a reaction.

All I know is he’s the key to who I was and what my life has been before I tried to leave this realm. And though he fights with his own demons, I’ll be damned if this so-called monster thinks he can hide my past from me.

 You’ll never be rid of me, Richter Almasy.”

(Welp, time for a new, gut wrenching story arc for my baby Xia and her angsty edgelord Richter @sinfulxaela. This does take place after my story arc with another buddy of mine, Elodea, and it gives Xia a little revamp that is already so much fun to write. HERE’S TO THE FEELS, RICHTER!)

Erase me like you said you wouldn't.

My perception muddied by my selfishness,
Hands dirtied reaching for an unattainable bliss. Thoughts conflicted as timing never seems to be my strong suit, torn between what happened and the lies I believed were absolute.

Heartbreak melody, melancholic in its familiar sound. Again may the king of ovethinking be crowned. Stain the canvas with your saccharine scent, silhouette my memories in your fleeting moment.

A lone island fixed in an ocean of misfortune

Tattered salmon reefs embrace the ragged margin

A scorching, smoking companion streaks toward it from the blue

Dips its flaming face in the foliage like a fondue

Skids to a stop, worn, wry,

A single pitch, blasting, shatters the eerie silence

Raps on the sturdy trunks (without a speck of shyness)

Gathers; one by one, a group of frightened virgin souls

Oblivious to the approaching loss of order and control;

And in the dark of the night,

Chant, abuse, slaughter, sharpen both sides of a spear -

Puncture through the raw flesh just to arouse a sense of fear

Let the blood flow; stain the canvas made of sand

More than enough violence a person can withstand

Spine-chilling, horrifying, emotionless and brutal,

And on that lonely island in that ocean of misfortune

Where tattered salmon reefs embrace the ragged margin

The most innocent of souls fall and shatter like a vial

Whose pure and unstained hands had lost the grip to survival

And the beastie will not bother them evermore.

“Beelzebub” by Yam

based on William Golding’s “Lord of the Flies”

I wish I can revisit the day I first met you
And wipe you out of my life
Like a stain on a canvas of prospering art
Because when I think of you
My mind becomes consumed in regret
And disappointment in myself
I hate myself for allowing my body to get so close to yours
For letting me confuse the concept of love with pity
I hope that one day
You’ll realize that emotional manipulation is not a compass to love.
—  10:15am thoughts (via epileptic-l0ve)
Good Morning

words: 507

I forgot about korrasami wedding day (shame on me) so i wrote something short. have some fluff. have ALL the fluff


Asami drifts out of sleep slowly, rising from the depths of her dreams into consciousness. She shifts in bed, legs tangled in the duvet, a weight thrown over her chest and holding her down to the bed like an anchor. She doesn’t open her eyes, the brightness of the day already burning through her eyelids. Instead, she raises her arms over her head, fingers grazing the wooden headboard, her back arching as she stretches her stiff muscles.

Keep reading

I wish I can revisit the day I first met you
And wipe you out of my life
Like a stain on a canvas of prospering art
Because when I think of you
My mind becomes consumed in regret
And disappointment in myself
I hate myself for allowing my body to get so close to yours
For letting me confuse the concept of love with pity
I hope that one day
You’ll realize that emotional manipulation is not a compass to love.
—  10.15am thoughts // epileptic-l0ve