#I don’t know how to render clothes lmao

[void-dude]

I’ve decided to embrace my style crisis

[onlyswan]

summary: in which the sweet ache of yearning metamorphoses into the art of intimacy and knowing.

idol!jk x reader, est. relationship / fluffy fluff, a dash of angst, explicit content (minors dni!!) / word count: 10.5k

warnings/content: divided into seven parts. it’s like a timeline hehe <3 ; mainly in jk’s pov!! ; underaged drinking (oc is 18 in that part but the legal age of drinking in sk is 19 so!) ; mention of almost? n*des (neither sent by our mcs) ; making out ; thigh grinding ; brief or*l (f. rec + allusions to m. rec) ; mention and allusion to s*x [yesyes it’s the first time] [oc may or may not cry a little too…] ; they have a ‘what if i die before you?’ discourse lmao

playlist! restless - bibi ; lily of the valley - daniel ; who do you love - the black skirts ; intro (end of the world) - ariana grande ; snow - josh makazo

> in which masterlist!

note: look at my gorjus ethereal bf !!!! anyway… hi, i’m back ^_^ here’s my not so little offering to those who’s been missing the iw couple <3 as always i’d love to hear your thoughts :") come chat!!

—

I. THE FALLING

“just stay the night.” you blurt out, turning to jungkook to express your worry. “i can’t let you leave right now. it’s not safe.”

his wide eyes scan the headline of the news once more.

heavy snowfall, road accident, several injured… versus staying the night at the apartment of not quite his friend, not quite his lover, for the first time.

he can’t deny that he favors the latter over the former with an explicable feeling rendering him breathless. still, he can’t allow his enthusiasm to cloud his better judgement. he knows he’s still somewhat of a stranger to you. he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome or make you feel uncomfortable in your own space.

“are you sure you’re comfortable with it?”

“sure. should i be worried?“

“no! uhm, i just thought not everyone would be comfortable to have a person they’re not very close with to sleep over.”

you chuckle, lightly bumping your shoulder against his. “chill. i have bigger things to be scared of than the guy who just cried with me while watching an anime movie.”

oh… he thought you were too absorbed in wiping your own tears to notice him crying too.

he slumps back on the sofa with a sigh. “i see. i guess we’re left with no choice then.”

“i have an extra toothbrush!”

—

jungkook doesn’t quite understand people’s obsession with his eyes, but getting enamored by the innocence that yours seem to glisten with, he wonders if he is experiencing the same case.

“can you see if this fits you?”

you stand before him with a stack of neatly folded clothes, unraveling a pair of gray sweatpants to hold up infront of him.

“i think… there’s a string? oh, there’s none.”

he chuckles. “you forgot?”

“well, it’s not mine. my ex never came back for his clothes.“ you huff with a roll of your eyes, muttering a silent his loss into the air. “i’ve washed it though! don’t worry! it’s just- you know- sleeping in denim pants is uncomfortable.”

does that mean you still wear the clothes of your exes? this pisses him off for some unknown reason. he would much rather sleep uncomfortably than wear their clothes.

you kindly smile, pushing the black knitted sweater against his chest. “but this is mine. it’s really warm and comfortable!”

but on another note, you’re too sweet and thoughtful. how could he ever say no?

—

the sweatpants is a little loose around his waist. your sweater, however, feels incredibly soft against his skin. as he walks back into the living room, he pulls down his sweater paws and runs his hands across its sleeves. if he had to describe the feeling it evokes, he would say it is very much similar to rolling around on freshly washed and dried bedsheets.

“it’s nice, right?”

he whips his head around upon hearing the sound of your voice. for a quick second, you caress his arm with the back of your hand, and even with the barrier separating your skin from his, the casual touch causes his breath to hitch.

“i finished cleaning the room. i set up a comforter on the floor so you can take the bed.”

“is that so? thank you!”

he zooms past you. you’re left standing alone, blinking in confusion. he is more than happy to welcome himself into your bedroom… so he can slyly steal the bed you prepared for yourself. he slides under the covers, makes himself all cozy with his hands resting on the back of his head as if it’s not a raging winter and he’s lying under the summer sun.

“and what do we have here?”

jungkook cracks one eye open. there you are leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed. you raise your eyebrows at him, demanding an answer.

“what?” he smiles childishly. “you’re the one doing me a favor. i’m not going to let you sleep on the floor.”

“how polite. suit yourself, sir.” you shake your head in amusement, smiling.

you enter the room, flicking the lightswitch off and locking the door at the speed of light. without thinking, probably; muscle memory formed by your routine. he is the only thing not a part of it. yet.

“goodnight, jungkook.”

“goodnight.”

he still sees you moving around in the dark. you crouch down beside him and he feels the extra pillow he’s partially crushing under his weight be jerked away all of a sudden.

“i need this one. sorry.” you whisper-shout apologetically. “goodnight! sweet dreams!”

—

jungkook sighs, tired of mindlessly scrolling through social media. his eyes flutter shut as he allows his phone to collapse on his chest. he is yet to even figure out if going to work later would be possible because of the blocked roads. he has gotten enough earful about not heading straight to the dorm and he cannot risk any more. because then, he would have to see less of you.

he sneakily opens his eyes, craning his head to the side to steal a glance of you, but he finds that you’ve already fallen asleep on your textbook and he’s unable to look away again. bathed in the warm light of the lampshade on your bedside, he has never seen you more peaceful. he learns with hard evidence that you’re a side sleeper, curled up underneath the blanket and cutely snuggled against the pillow you took from him.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been admiring you, but he knows he doesn’t want you to think of him as a creep. you stir in your sleep and his hand swiftly flies to his phone. pretending to be absorbed in reading the first tweet he comes across, he tries taking another subtle glimpse of you.

it’s as if he’s been caught and punished.

he flinches.

your textbook collides with the floor, landing only inches next to his pillow. he begins sweating. he could’ve easily gotten a concussion at best, death at worst.

he sits up with his elbows anchoring him, poking around to investigate the cause of the fall. admittedly, he’s a little sad to see your back now facing him.

“shit, what am i doing?” he roughly rubs his face to knock some sense back into him.

he needs to get some sleep. yeah, that’s it. nothing more.

he picks up your textbook, taking it upon himself to bring it over to your desk. on his way back, he also decides to to turn off the lampshade.

his finger freezes on the button, however. he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to silence the giggle that threatens to escape him— so fucking endeared to discover that you’ve kicked off your blanket and rolled over to your other side along with the pillow, your thigh carelessly slumped over it.

he tucks himself back into bed, heart feeling all warm and fuzzy.

“so, so adorable.”

the words escape him without thought; the smile on his face ever-present even as he drifts off to dreamland.

—

II. ALLOW ME TO LINGER BY THE DOOR

“hey, it’s getting late. shouldn’t you be heading home by now?”

you sit beside jungkook on the sofa after a phone call, and his round eyes grow twice their size when you steal the iced tea from his grasp, nonchalant as your lips wrap around the same red straw his have been only seconds ago.

he awkwardly clears his throat, perhaps to mask his loud heartbeat. “is your friend okay?”

“oh, she’ll be fine. it’s her fault so i can’t do much for her this time.” you shrug, picking up your chopsticks as you eye the last dumpling in the bowl. “still hate that guy, though.”

“the one you think is lying about being rich?”

“i don’t know much about real ones, but i’m pretty sure i’ve seen enough fake diamonds!”

that seems to hits the right spot to elevate your mood. you hum happily as you chew, collapsing on the cushions and looking straight ahead at the television screen.

“sorry about that. you must be bored and tired by now.”

“about that…” jungkook swallows his nervousness. he rests his arm on top of the sofa, just to act cool. he’s so close to you yet still so distant. “i’m dead tired from filming today. i’ve been up since four in the morning. would it be too much trouble if i spend the night again?”

“i should be the one asking you that. why do you like this trashy place way more than i do?” you shake your head, wiping your mouth with a paper napkin. “i’ll go fix up so you can rest then. you’re lucky minji didn’t claim the bed first.”

fuck, he was supposed to get kicked out?

“wait! do you need a change of clothes?”

“there’s no need!” he replies a little too quickly. if he has to wear the clothes of another one of your exes, he might end up on the news for setting himself on fire. “i have extras in my backpack i didn’t got to wear today.”

“oh, okay.” you flash him a smile before disappearing into the bedroom.

yeah, how convenient.

he exhales through his mouth.

when did he start lying? his mother would be very disappointed in him. but on the other hand, his father would explode in boisterous laughter and pat him on the back. nevermind… that just makes it worse.

“guess i’m going to hell!” he shrugs, wearing a smile that is rather too jubilant.

he grabs his backpack on the floor and heads to the bathroom; your home is another home away from home.

—

jungkook is exhausted from dance practice. he must’ve exerted himself too hard again without realizing it. for the third time this week, he’s attaching pain relief patches to his neck and shoulders, shirt pulled to the side as to expose the area. normally, he’d just take it off without care, but he’s in a different setting. while he’s pretty confident with the current condition of his body, it would be rude to strip out of nowhere. and you make him nervous. would he fluster you or would you fluster him? he’s not prepared to find out yet.

“are you okay?”

his movements from below capture your attention amidst catching up to the events in your group chats.

“i’m okay, just a little sore. don’t worry!” he waves off your concern with a scrunch of his nose. “i also fell asleep in the car earlier so…”

“i can give you a massage. if you want.”

“no, it’s fine.” even though the offer sounds extremely tempting, especially coming from you. “i know you’re tired too.”

“hm, your loss. i’m kind of an expert at it.”

he squints his eyes at you. “really?”

“you don’t believe me?”

you sit up on the bed with an offended gasp, and he laughs at how you quite literally rose up to the challenge.

“we do have actual experts come in and take care of us too, you know that?”

“excuse you, i’m an actual expert! i have more than a decade of experience!”

he isn’t surprised to witness you climb down immediately afterwards, sitting behind him with your hands already on his shoulders.

“hmm, my dad worked at construction sites. my mom had a desk job. this- this was my job.” your fingers begin pressing down as if you’re assessing him, touching the bare skin of his still exposed shoulder. “got paid with extra allowance. making money was easy back then.”

“you’re so adorab- ah, ah, ah-” his sentence is cut short by his own self when you apply pressure on a big knot, gently massaging it in small circles to loosen the tightly wound muscle fibers. “fuck, it hurts… yeah, that’s good. don’t stop.”

he hears you snort, feels your forehead collapse on his back as vibrant giggles rack your body. a blush of red creeps up to his cheeks and he’s thankful that you can’t see his face.

he laughs along, belly aching. “okay, okay- i heard it! i should keep my mouth shut!”

“no no no, i won’t laugh anymore!”

“you’re still doing it right now!”

“i’ll stop!” you sniffle, laughed to the point of tears. you squeeze his shoulders. “just relax! you’re so tense here, see? no wonder it hurts.”

there’s no denying that his body is pushed to its limits everyday; he has grown accustomed of this kind of lifestyle and he doesn’t complain. you’re making him want to do it all the time, though. if it means getting pampered like this? hell yeah.

“it hurts here too. over- over here-” he reaches a hand to his back, patting the area that has been bothering him all day. “this part. will you make it go away, please?”

“here? your shoulder blade?”

“yes!”

“okay. tell me if i should go gentler or harder. i don’t want to hurt you.”

it’s his turn to snort. he shortly learns that was not a smart move.

“ah, ah, ah-” you pull at his ear and this time he moans in pain. “oh, come on! you gave that one away!”

“shut up! you’re not allowed to laugh too!”

—

he tries not to create more embarrassing sounds. at some point he begun to busy himself with his phone, but to no avail, there are occasional moans and grunts he can’t bite down because you weren’t lying about being a pretty damn good masseur. and then he does it on purpose once, just to hear you laugh again, because his being already feels a million times lighter and you show no signs of exhaustion or boredom.

“you have a mole here,” you casually observe. he feels a light touch on the side of his neck and the butterflies in his stomach become untamed. “it’s sexy.”

he blushes, caught off guard by the compliment. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” you hum.

the minutes pass by and he is no longer faking silence, however. all he can think about now is how he wishes that he was lying down for this. how long has it been? you’ve been definitely at it for almost an hour. he yawns, eyelids fighting to stay open but failing miserably.

“hey, wipe your drool.”

he blinks. your beautiful face greets him— for a second, he’s convinced that he has begun dreaming. with a mischievous grin, you lift the collar of his shirt to wipe the corners of his lips, and in a state of near delirium, he cackles.

“seriously, thank you… i-i don’t even know what to say. i really needed that.” he sighs, carelessly rubbing his heavy eyes. “i’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow. how about that?”

“sounds good. now go to sleep.” you pat his back before rising on your feet. “your head kept on dropping and i felt bad.”

“that happens a lot.”

“well, it’s bad for your neck. keep doing it and i’ll get more free dinners.”

the unmistakable sound of a kiss that follows, it suspiciously matches with the warmth that lingers on his cheek.

“goodnight!”

“goodnight…” he only manages to mumble.

his mind has gone off to space. you tuck yourself into your bed after turning off the lampshade while jungkook feels like he just got blasted to the moon. he needs to get out of here. STAT.

“i’ll go drink some water. do you want me to get you a glass?”

“no, i’m fine.”

he makes out your figure shuffling in the dark, snuggled closely to a pillow.

he nods, which you probably didn’t even see. he steps out of the room as quietly as possible, slowly closing the door as to produce the smallest click. he pads to the kitchen still feeling light, almost like he’s walking on a path made out of clouds. he pours himself a glass of cold water from the fridge, chugs it down to the very last drop.

he licks his lips as he sets down the glass on the counter. he sighs deeply. he can still feel the outline of your lips, sticky lip balm printed on his skin. is it normal that he couldn’t be bothered to wipe it off?

“totally worth going to hell for.” he muses, unaware of the smirk that has started playing on his lips.

he briskly washes the glass at the sink, wiping it dry with a towel before deposting it back into the rack.

as expected, you’ve already fallen asleep by the time that he returns. the light from the hallway casts a glow over your face and it’s a sight that is painfully intimate in its own peculiar way.

he can’t put a name to it, but whatever this feeling is, he likes it and he wants it to last.

and so, he lingers by the door for a few seconds more.

—

III. THE YEARNING

jungkook hisses your name with yet another curse, heart so close to jumping out of his chest. when you were on the phone incoherently begging him to take you home from the club, he expected to carry out a passed out person from his car to their apartment floor, which he found no problem with aside from the possibility of having to deal with them throwing up.

instead, he is struck by an unusual combination of amusement and distress. he has been running around trying to capture you as you spend your final bursts of energy ringing strangers’ doorbells. your exhilarated laughter echoes throughout the hallways. he must confess that he was laughing along with you the first time… until it started to get a little bit out of hand.

if someone recognizes him by chance, he would be beyond fucked.

“don’t- don't do it! stop it! please!” he finally manages to seize your wrist before it can reach another, forced to wrap his arms around your torso so you won’t escape from him again. “are you crazy? it’s 3am! people are sleeping!”

“that’s the point.” you mewl, looking back to him with a childish pout underneath the hood of your coat. “why are they sleeping? it’s when the ghosts come out. does no one ever think about ghosts’ feelings? because i do! if i were a ghost, i’d be lonely and crying right now!”

oh my god, what is happening?

“so let’s invite them and everyone for more drinks!” you jump up and down, his secure hold doesn’t hold a candle to your hypernese. “jungkook, i want to drink more! more more more! buy me!”

unfortunately, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on your cuteness. he hears a door click from behind and his instincts instantaneously kick in. oh shit, you actually fucking woke someone up. he sweeps you off your feet, clasping a hand over your mouth to mute your angry protests. he turns at a corner, trapping you against the wall.

a deep and manly voice fills the silence. “hello? who’s there?”

two pairs of eyes widen, staring at each other as if they can read minds through them. he notices the unsteady rise and fall of your chest; your heart must be beating as fast as his. he has to pull down his black mask to be able to breathe.

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he grumbles with a pointed look.

when you smile, he perceives it first through the palm of his hand before it reaches your eyes. only then does he fully register the dangerously close proximity between you.

dangerous because he wants to kiss you.

dangerous because you’d dare him to do it and his self-control has been reduced to a million cracks.

“ah, this prank again! fucking teenagers!”

and the door slams shut. you both flinch.

“that guy has a fridge full of beer!”

you are vexed, voice muffled but still clearly loud. you harshly paw at his forearm to remove his hand, and your pout finally comes into view.

“no, you’ve had enough! seriously, what am i going to do with you? huh? you shouldn’t even be drinking at all.” he blows a loud breath, frustratedly running his fingers through his hair. “how did you even get in the club? fake id? you have it, don’t you?”

you rush to defend yourself. “i’m only younger by a year and i don’t look like it! as if they actually care in those places. they only want money.”

he begins to question if the bloodshot of your eyes is solely because of the alcohol or you’re also on the verge of tears.

“why? are you mad at me?”

“no, i’m not mad. should i be?”

“…i don’t know. why do you even care about things like that? you’re not my boyfriend or my parent so i don’t need to explain myself to you.” you angrily ramble, wriggling out of the tight spot he had you trapped in.

and that felt like a fucking dagger to the heart.

“you know what? i-i can do this. i can take care of myself, so go home.”

“____, don’t be like this, please. you’re drunk.”

“i’m not drunk, just tipsy! you can go home!”

he runs after you, but you shrug him off and continue walking away, perhaps a little too fast. he curses himself when he catches up to you seconds too late, witnessing you fall over to the floor with a thump and a whimper.

“are you okay?! where does it hurt?!”

you shake your head profusely, but your hands gripping your ankle gives away the answers. he doesn’t press you further. without another word, he hooks an arm under your knees and the other under your back, swooping you from the floor. he stands up straight, adjusts your position slightly, and walks the path you attempted to travel alone in your intoxicated state.

perhaps he is mad. he went and abandoned his rest time when you said that you needed him, only for you to rudely send him home. he has the right to be mad, even just a little bit, despite the fact that he isn’t your boyfriend, right?

not that it matters.

you cling to his neck and it all melts away.

he glances down at you. a soft smile has replaced your frown. “oh, so now you’re happy again?”

“yes,” you tilt your head. “feels like i’m floating.”

“where’s your key?”

“huh?”

“your key-”

“oh!”

you dig out the item from the pocket of your coat. you proudly dangle it infront of his face along with the colorful keychains attached to it; the bear was gifted by yours truly from japan. he totally forgot that it existed. the last time he saw it was when he tossed it in the paper bag he gave you.

he’s not even your boyfriend. the two of you know that doesn’t make sense anymore.

—

after he sets you down on the sofa, he kneels on the floor to remove the heels from your aching feet. he gets the hang of it after unfastening the second strap. while he’s preoccupied, you strip off your coat to combat the increased temperature of your body.

“i need to pee.” you urgently kick off the heels as you rise on your feet.

jungkook looks up and forgets how to breathe. you are irresistibly gorgeous; the cherry red mid-thigh dress you’ve been hiding from him hugs your body so perfectly. he’s ensnared and thoroughly convinced that you’re aware of your power to leave men and women alike sweating and tongue-tied.

goddammit, he is mad. you were at the club looking like this among flashing lights and grinding bodies and he is not your boyfriend.

“doesn’t your ankle hurt?”

“doesn’t matter. i need to pee.”

he clicks his tongue as you limp your way towards the bathroom.

“you’re so hardheaded.”

he lifts up your arm to bring it over his shoulders; he holds your waist to assist you.

“and your heart is so soft.” you giggle, and his world stops when you hold his face… peppering his cheek with an amount of kisses he doesn’t have half the mind to count.

you said you’re not drunk, just tipsy. does that mean you genuinely like him this much and you’ll remember it when you wake up?

dear god, he hopes so.

—

jungkook is supposed to wake up in four hours. however, he’s still wide awake sitting by your pillow, mind completely blank on what he’s supposed to do now that you’re safe and sound. he can’t bring himself to leave just yet. you bump against his knee as you shuffle and squirm, eyes closed but yet to land in the confines of slumber. he can hear your rugged and frustrated breathing, can’t help but to hopelessly adore how pretty you are even with knitted eyebrows and tousled hair.

he likes you so much. he knows it hasn’t been that long since you met but the thought of losing the chance of winning you over makes him want to cry and throw a tantrum. you’re running in his mind day and night. you have permeated all his senses. you charm him with your unapologetic existence and you effortlessly captivate his ungiven affections.

when it comes to love, his passion becomes a weakness.

a whine emits from your parted lips as if you sense that something is wrong. your hands pat around the mattress— searching and searching, until they stumble upon him. you push yourself up, head landing on the pillow, and your arms, they hug him close by his waist. only then do you finally come to a still, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

you are at peace and he is experiencing an emotional turmoil— falling in love. this is simply not fair.

the lines are becoming so blurry. he is losing control of his hands, hyperaware of what he is capable with his possession of them. he strokes your head gently, hair brushing across his palm— this is soothing to him as much as it is you.

this feels right, he thinks. he wants time to stretch from this galaxy to another.

he feels a weak tug at his sweater.

“i’m cold now,” your complaint comes out mumbled against the thick fabric.

next thing he knows you’re pulling him down by his collar, leaving him with no choice but to lie down beside you as to not crush you under his weight. where the hell did you gather the strength to do that?!

he hisses in panic. “yah! what are you doing?”

“i’m cold,” you repeat.

“____, we’re lying down on the blanket. if you can just scoot over for a seco- i’ll take it out. move-”

his attempts on communicating to you only fall on deaf ears. he zips his mouth to admit defeat.

you cling to him for warmth, and jungkook finds himself giving more than that. he volunteers his arm to be your pillow, softly cupping the back of your head as you nuzzle your face on his chest; his other arm wraps around your torso to keep you close. it is quite a tight fit on a single bed— he figures out a lame excuse for later.

now he can say for certain that you’re hearing his heartbeat, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore. he also doesn’t mind the scent of alcohol because it’s tragically losing the battle against your sweet perfume. it renders him enchanted. and the dress… that hypnotizing dress. he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to banish the sinful thoughts flooding his imagination.

he didn’t peg you to be the physically affectionate type, but seeing that you can’t sleep without hugging something, someone— he wants to be just the thing that you cherish as your safe haven. he wants this memory to be cute… and romantic. but too much heavy on the romance, you affect his body and heart in ways no one can.

he tries to will his growing erection to ebb away. it’s not an appropriate situation. he likes and respects you too much.

“my makeup…”

you said it so quietly, he almost believed he was making it up in his head.

“what was that?”

“will you- please, will you help me take off my makeup? it’s bothering me.” you make one final request at the depths of drowsiness, speech slurred and stuttered. “the wipes… the drawer behind you.”

he should’ve thought of that. he’s learning. next time, he will.

he settles into his previous position after grabbing the wipes.

“how do i help? is it okay if i d-”

he interrupts his question when he realizes that you’ve finally fallen asleep.

his sigh momentarily fills the defeaning silence of the night. the exhaustion has also begun to take a toll on him. he’s going to have to catch up on sleep during car rides and set breaks. he’s already dreading it as he’s planning around their hectic schedule.

as he wipes off your makeup as carefully as possible, he mutters into the thin air. “you owe me a massage for this.”

—

IV. HAPPINESS OUTSIDE DAYDREAMS

“you’re my boyfriend now and you don’t sleep on the floor anymore. how cute is that?” you happily think out loud, swinging your feet dangling at the edge of the bed. “but if you want to go back to our old ways… my bed is small even for me.”

“no way. are you kidding?!” he jokingly protests in an angry manner. “your bed is perfect.”

jungkook is on cloud nine. it sure does feel good to hear you sound so happy calling him your boyfriend, even more so to reap its special privileges.

“i keep forgetting to ask. which side do you prefer?”

you’re sat facing the door. “i don’t know, but i’m used to sleeping here.”

“alright. i’ll stay here.” he climbs under the covers, spreading his arms once his back hits the mattress. the smirk on his face widens. “come here, baby.”

a grunt slips past his lips when you jump into his arms without warning, eventually falling over to the side when he moves to envelope you in his embrace.

“you’re so warm.” you purr in contentment as you bury your face against his chest. “i love cuddling so much.”

“i’ve noticed,” he replies. he softly squeezes your exposed thigh after you slump your leg over his hip to maximize your comfort. “your pillow must be softer than me though.”

“no, i like you more… cuddling is proven to have health benefits, you know?”

he quirks an eyebrow. “oh really? give me examples.”

“it releases happy chemicals in the brain… it apparently also helps to lower blood pressure and heart rate, and it-” you fail to stifle a sleepy yawn, hands grasping the cloth of his shirt and forming closed fists. “…improves one’s quality of sleep.”

“i can see it’s working well for you.” he chuckles.

“is it for you?”

“mhmm, yes,” he presses his lips to your forehead. “i’m happy. there’s only happy chemicals in my brain right now.”

jungkook means it wholeheartedly and it feels strange. he doesn’t feel happy in this moment alone. this happiness is colossal and there’s not nearly enough hours in a day to take it all in. this happiness will still be here when he wakes up tomorrow, and the day after that. this happiness stays with him even when you’re not physically present. you’ve turned him into an optimistic fool but it’s not always that he experiences an attraction this strong.

he’s smitten and he can’t hide it. the people who are around him everyday sees it on his face; he doesn’t even need to say it out loud. all that corny shenanigans about romance giving you a certain type of glow is apparently true, it turns out.

“kissing is said to have the same effects, actually.”

your coyness captivates him from his thoughts.

he draws back slightly, the glint of mischief in his eyes mirroring yours. “where do you learn these things?”

“through reading and experience.” you shrug innocently. “want to test that out too?”

you’re everywhere. he can taste your lips, your tongue; your body wash floods his sense of smell with a sweet and clean scent, plus something else he can’t quite name. he can only it describe as you. your hair is tangled in his fingers and your hands… so delicate and teasing with every touch, it feels like being electrified. it still feels incredibly chilly outside but heat is radiating off his skin. he needs to peel himself off you before he loses his last shred of self-control.

“baby…” he whispers, lips only a couple inches from yours. he takes your hand in a tender hold, placing it over his racing heartbeat. “i’m not sure about this one being good for my health.”

“but it is. you just burnt some calories.” you smile, wiping the sweat that has started to form on his forehead. “should we stop?”

he feels his cheeks become more flushed, but his craving for you has overtaken his shyness. he might as well be drunk; intoxicated by you.

“no.” he refuses, conflicted and almost pained. “i can’t…”

he gets rid of the distance between your lips once more, swallowing the first obscene moan he brings out of you.

—

V. THE SPRING FLOWER IN THE EYE OF THE STORM

although you know they held affection for you, the boys you’ve attracted in your life have made one thing clear: they see you as an object of desire, and you unintentionally play the part well. if you were going to make their wet dreams come true, then you ought to derive pleasure from it as well without shame.

but with jungkook, the tables have turned. you wore the same lipstick from last time to rile him up on purpose, but instead you’re the one stuck trying to recall a time you were this putty in somebody’s hands. you’re not in control— you expect this thought would make you spiral, but it doesn’t.

you stumble inside your apartment making out with your boyfriend and you have an orange azalea tucked behind your ear. his hand is in your mess of a hair and it protects your head from the impact of the wall as your back collides with it. you don’t know if it was on purpose or not but your heart flutters nonetheless. this is sickeningly romantic and you want to drown yourself in it.

“oh, feels good.” his mouth on your neck is addictive, you imagine it would be heavenly on more vulnerable parts of you. your nails harshly dig into his shoulder as he takes his time with every lick, every nip of his teeth— eager to learn more about your body and what makes it weak at the knees.

you tug at his hair with a whisper. “jungkook…”

“mhm? yes, baby?”

you thought you’ve seen and felt enough. you know about lust, but never felt a chemistry this electrifying. there’s an emotion screaming beneath the daze in jungkook’s eyes; it’s always been there, but not this loud. you think if you trust your gut and open yourself up… you might just come to gain an understanding of it.

you bite your bottom lip, behind it a shadow of a smile. “bedroom.”

his restless hands slide down to hook around your thighs, and not long after, your legs are wrapped around his waist as he navigates your apartment blinded by the mutual refusal of your lips to disconnect. you giggle every time he bumps into something and groans. with his fear of accidentally letting you fall felt through his tight grip, you’re the one who kicks the bedroom shut. the sound couldn’t have been louder than the pounding of your heart reaching your own ears.

jungkook is gentle as he lays you down on the bed, but your lack of inhibitions reign over you. you begin unbuttoning his shirt, unconsciously grinding your heat against his thigh as you do so. it catches him by surprise, but then his strong hands find purchase on your waist, and you know he wants this as much as you do.

the kiss is broken up by a moan when his grip falls to your hips, guiding your wild movements in chasing pleasure with a tenderness and sensuality that transforms you into a feverish mess. another gush of arousal ruins your underwear worse. you kiss him again and eventually you lose count of the buttons— patience runs thin and with adrenaline rushing through your veins, you tear his shirt apart.

he hisses. “baby, shit- what did y-”

“shhh,” you place an index finger over his lips.

he chuckles raspily, shaking his head in disbelief. your giggles join him, equally amused with yourself.

it’s still for a few seconds, but you can hear each other breathe in the dark. you’ve seen him naked but his silhouette alone stirs the fuel spreading throughout your body. he’s perfect. your lips reclaim the place of your finger. your hands caress every inch of his skin, every curve of his flesh they can reach. he doesn’t make an effort to hold his noises and it turns you on more, if that is even possible at this point. his muscles continue to tense under your touches, even worse when you find his nipples to tease and play with. he’s perfect.

“it’s my turn.” he tries to say in the middle of the kiss, but you don’t hear a thing until he’s pulling away breathless and you’re whining in disappointment. “let me return the flavor please? i’ve been going crazy thinking about it. fuck, please.”

you sit up on the bed, pushing his naked chest challengingly. “what? you want to eat me out?“

he swallows, wide scandalized eyes failing to escape your keen observation. “i do.”

you watch him watch you strip off your sweater, “really…?” and then unclasp your bra, allowing its straps to provocatively slide down your shoulders.

“ye-yes, really.”

“then what’s stopping you?”

he whines out your name, interrupting himself with his craving for another kiss as he slips off your bra completely. it gets lost on the floor along with your sweater and you smirk deviously against his lips. “you’re testing me like this, huh? you’re so mean.”

you lie on your bed but you feel like you’re on top of the world. jungkook scatters kisses from your neck down to your chest, occasionally licking and biting as if he can’t help but to taste you. he uncovers another ticklish spot along your ribcage, but you bite your lip to control your giggles. instead, you touch his face to subtly guide him away from it.

he nuzzles his cheek against your palm, eyelids fluttering close as he presses a soft kiss to your wrist.

“may i?”

the shape of his lips lingers there. no one has ever kissed your wrist, nor have you ever imagined the first time to take place in bed.

your thumb strokes his cheek tenderly. the silence that follows there after concerns jungkook. he calls out your name, snapping you out of deep thought.

“may i?” he repeats himself.

he is patiently suspended over the waistband of your skirt. ever the gentleman, you half-smile.

“will you fuck me good after?”

the hand on his face sneaks down to pull up the skirt over your stomach; an even tinier piece of fabric covers the most intimate part of your body.

“whatever you want, baby, i will do it.” he promises.

you can hear the smirk in his voice, but you’re unable to form another response as his tongue laves over the lace, the warmth and wetness saturating through and stimulating your clit— once, slowly, and then over and over again.

you gasp, jolting and squirming in pleasure. he only makes it worse when he hums and you feel the vibration against you. you whine and he squeezes the soft flesh of your inner thighs in an attempt soothe you, keep you still, nuzzling his cheek as he meets your heated gaze.

“relax… is my baby always this sensitive?” he places a chaste kiss over your clit, causing your breath to hitch. “‘cause i’ve barely started.”

“jungkook,” you impatiently whine. “why’d you stop? just do it, please- need you.”

you’d wipe off that stupid smirk on his face if only you weren’t so pent up and you didn’t need his tongue.

“wow… didn’t think you’re the type to beg.” he muses, more so talking to himself. “i like it.”

hell no, you’re not.

but finally, he dives in, greedily pulling aside the flimsy material for a real taste of you. instead of a sharp remark, erotic sounds between a moan and a sob emit from your lips. your toes curl at the surge of mind-numbing ecstasy overwhelming your body. your hands fisting the sheets fly to his hair, frantically tugging like you can’t take it, but you beg and beg and beg him for more.

—

the last time you had sex was more than four months ago. you realized that you liked jungkook, and you simply didn’t want to do it with anybody else. sexual frustration combined with the romantic pining for a man that could potentially ruin your life; your youth has been nothing short of eventful.

has sex always been this good? you can’t remember. you’re drunk on pleasure even in the aftermath; you’re not sure if you’re really here or floating someplace else. as you catch your breath, jungkook soothes your body with gentle kisses and strokes of your skin, whispering sweet nothings. mostly babbling about how beautiful you are. and you feel it— feel beautiful, you mean.

you gradually open your eyes, vision adjusting to the divine view infront of you. jungkook is golden, skin still glistening with sweat under the warm glow of the lampshade. your heart skips a beat when he smiles at you.

“are you good? do you need anything? water?”

“again.”

his eyes widens. “again?“

“round two.” you giggle.

you push yourself up to reach his lips, but the kiss ends too soon for your liking.

“jungkook-” you complain.

“wait!”

you stare in bewilderment as he bends down from the edge of bed, appearing to be reaching for one of the objects discarded on the floor.

“what is it?”

“i found it!”

it’s the flower.

beaming with a hue of pure excitement, he tucks the azalea behind your ear for the second time tonight. pretty, he says it so quietly that you only understand through the movement of his lips.

he looks bewitched by you. in a different setting you’d be smug about it, but at this moment, you don’t understand. you can’t read what’s on his mind. if only you could see yourself through his eyes, even for just a moment, then maybe you’d understand why he’s dancing with fire and folding with his tower of cards.

it would be too silly and embarrassing to start crying now, right?

you swallow the lump in your throat, glassy eyes overshadowed by your boyfriend leaning in to plant a kiss on your forehead. as if that isn’t enough to entirely melt your heart, he intertwines his fingers with yours. your walls come crumbling down. in a haste to forbid your emotions from breaking free, you reach for him and slip your tongue in his mouth for a fervent kiss.

the burning tears that drip down to your temples are lost evidence you will bring to the grave.

—

“you’re not supposed to be awake.” jungkook complains as soon as he opens the door.

you only spare him a glance before returning to your task. instead of being under the sheets, you’re sat on the floor with his button-up shirt from last night laid across your lap. only several steps closer and he realizes that you’re sewing.

he exhales through his mouth in surprise, setting aside the tray of food on the bed before joining you on the floor.

“baby, what are you doing?! it’s fine. you don’t need to fix it.”

“i know, but i want to.” you reply, smiling, eyes still swollen from sleep focused on the needle and thread. “i stepped on one of the buttons so i looked for the two other.”

he’s dumbfounded watching you sew with so much care and precision. oh my god, he is in love with you. he thinks it so loud he gets terrified that he might’ve ended up speaking it out loud too.

“at least eat first!”

“wow, where did you buy ingredients so early?”

“early?” he scratches his head. “it’s lunch time.”

“what?!” your eyes grow twice their size. “jungkook, i’m late for work! what didn’t you wake me up?!”

“you- you we- you were tired!” he stutters defending himself.

he awkwardly catches his shirt when you throw it aside in a rush to get to the bathroom.

“baby, what about your food?!” he yells.

“wait, i forgot my towel-” you pop out from the doorframe, beaming at him breathlessly. “oh, please pack the food in my lunchbox!”

—

VI. SPEAKING TRUTHFULLY, YOU’RE THE ONE FOR ME

“i missed you.”

you giggle. “you look drunk.”

you hold jungkook’s cheeks in the palm of your hands, and he revels in the comforting warmth radiating from them.

he closes his eyes with a toothy grin. “i’m exhausted.”

“then go to sleep!”

“i don’t want to!”

he opens one eye, peeking at you.

“i came here so you won’t have to tire yourself out more going to my place.” you pout. “why do you hate resting?”

“this is me resting,” he says as a matter of fact, leaning down to give your lips a peck. “you are my rest.”

while it may be true that his body is begging for sleep, his mind is willing him to stay awake for as long as he can. he likes that he has nothing to prove here; he can simply be. you’re softly tracing his skin, forming constellations from the moles on his face, and he knows they’re created out of pure wonder and love.

“this one’s so cute!” you gush. “nobody talks about it enough.”

you place an affectionate kiss on the mole at the bridge of his nose.

“maybe because nobody has noticed it but you.”

you roll your eyes. “as if i’m the only one who spends their free time looking at your face.”

“but you’re the one who can view me in the highest quality.” he brings his face a little closer to tease you; noses almost brushing. “no one else can have me this close.”

“that’s right. or else you will never have me this close again.”

you squint your eyes at him as a threat; a frown making a permanent residence on your lips. fuck, when is he not thinking about kissing you?

“aigoo, look at you sulking!” he exclaims with a laugh.

“i’m not!”

“okay, whatever you say.” he replies in a sing-song voice.

it’s silent for a few beats as he engulfs you in his embrace. he feels like he’s being recharged, and with that comes along the overdue acknowledgement of his exhaustion. he meant it when he said that you are his rest.

“you know, i can’t help but to wonder sometimes.”

there is an undertone of hesitance in the way you spoke which is not typical of you. this prompts him to draw back a little, just enough to get a good look of your face.

“wonder about?”

“i’m not trying to put myself down or anything like that, by the way. i’m not expecting you to say the right thing or whatever either. i’m just-”

you pause, teeth nervously biting your lip. his heart aches in an instant when you avoid his eyes.

“i’m just genuinely curious? and saying what’s on my mind.”

“what is it?” he juts out his bottom lip. “you’re scaring me.”

“it’s not a big deal!”

“go on then. i’m listening.”

“i mean, i know i’m a catch, and- and i have a lot to offer, and i’m special in my own way. but you have a lot of…” you blink, trying to find the right term. “options.”

the word alone causes distaste to morph in his facial expression.

“okay, okay, i know! ugh, i don’t know how else to say it. but you have these beautiful and amazing people throwing themselves at you and sometimes i’m flabbergasted that you actively reject them for me.”

“baby, what are you even saying-”

“i’m serious. there are girls i would’ve totally gone for!”

“but they’re not you!”

he tilts your chin, smiling when at last, he recaptures your wide-eyed gaze.

“it’s really as simple as that.”

“but when we weren’t official yet-”

“i liked you from the start, if i didn’t make that obvious enough.”

you scrunch your cute nose; a smile of pure giddiness starting to form on your face. “you did… i knew.”

“i can’t believe you’re thinking about things like that. i only have eyes for you, baby. do you remember the first fight we had, huh? remember how i got drunk and cried?”

he doesn’t particularly like to relive the trauma and consequences of receiving unsolicited… almost naked… photos of an acquaintance while he’s watching a silly youtube video on his phone with his significant other. anything can be fixed in a relationship if both parties exert the effort, but trust, it is almost impossible to rebuild.

she didn’t know he was, is, in a relationship. in general, no one outside his inner circle really expects him to be in a relationship, or at least be in one that is serious or long-term. because, well, where would he find the time and energy for that kind of stuff?

but keeping you as a secret was his way of protecting you, and if you were hurting because of that, you didn’t show it.

oh, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t mad.

you needed some time to clear your head, you said. ignored his texts and phone calls; shooed him away when he begged at your front door. that issue may already been resolved, but he’s still not done proving that he’s solely committed to you.

you’re one of the most important people in his life. he loves you and he tends to get worried that you will never know much.

you gasp, hitting his chest. “when did that happen?!”

“why are you shocked…?” he narrows his eyes. “you didn’t know?”

“how would i know?”

he scratches his head in confusion. he should probably stop talking at this point and not dig his own grave, but his honesty leads him on. “…didn’t taehyungie-hyung send you a video? or did i make that up in my head?”

he immediately regrets it when the sparkle of mischief appears in your eyes.

“he’s still awake, right?”

“actually, he sleeps early nowadays!”

you wiggle out of his embrace, playfully sticking out your tongue at him. “i’ll go get the copy from him right now.”

“it was so long ago. it’s probably deleted by now!”

“wouldn’t hurt to check.”

“baby, no! it’s embarrassing!” he attempts to pull you back, but his hands barely reach you. “let’s just go to sleep, hm? didn’t you come here to put me to sleep?”

“aw, my love…”

he melts when you gingerly stroke his hair too. he will never live it down if his friends witnessed you babying him and him loving it.

“just close your eyes.”

and with your hand obstructing his vision, he sees pitch black and floating spots and flecks.

“i’ll be back in a minute! mwah!”

but despite his sense of sight being taken away, he still feels you spring off the mattress. the weight of your feet against the floor resonates along with the shout of your name as he follows you out of his bedroom.

you squeal in panic when you realize that you’re being chased. “go back to bed!”

“i won’t unless you go back with me!”

this is one of the instances in which jungkook is grateful for his gifts of athletic prowess and long limbs.

with little to no effort, he overtakes you in the race towards taehyung’s bedroom. doe eyes akin to a deer caught in the headlights, he swings the door open.

taehyung’s eyes flicker up from his phone. he’s frankly not surprised about the intrusion, not after hearing the commotion outside.

“need anything?”

“all the videos you have of him drunk!”

“hyung, no! you can’t give it!”

—

VII. THE CHOICE TO STAY

“give it to me.”

the blanket that jungkook carried from the bedroom is snatched away from his hands. it becomes unfurled and thrown over to shield your shivering vessel from the cold. without a word, he crawls on the couch and under the blanket, hugging you from behind as you catch up on your ongoing tv shows.

relief… he’s been looking forward to this all day.

the tension in his muscles, from head to toe, begin to fade away, especially as you take his hand in yours so you can give it a chaste kiss. it’s quick, but long enough for him to feel the softness of your lips. his hug tightens. he remains silent as he inhales, and exhales, slow and calm. he’s not trying to fall asleep as much as trying to shut down his brain. they say the world has stopped but from his point of view, it has erupted into chaos and he has no other choice but to watch it fall apart and to attempt to rebuild it at the same time. god knows he is doing the best he can but it feels like his best will never not be lacking.

jungkook is scared, and he is more scared knowing that everyone else is too. but for the past two years, whether you’re whole or broken, whether he’s climbing or falling— it never made a difference. you’ve always stayed.

he finds comfort in knowing that he has this constant among the ominous unknown.

his little firefly; your light won’t go out even as the world lets out its final sigh.

“my love, why are you sad?”

you flipped to your other side when another commercial break rolled in; now you’re hovering over him, curious eyes studying every inch of his face.

“is my love hurt anywhere?” you coo. “where should i kiss?”

his body shakes with quiet laughter as you pepper his face with kisses, trailing down to his jaw until you reach the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“or do you want a massage? here? know you had a looong day.”

“really? how’d you know?”

“yeah, ‘cause you haven’t showered. you’re all stinky.”

“oh, am i?” he playfully pinches your waist, which you react to with a drawn out whine. “and yet you’re still cuddling with me.”

“so? do you need my massage therapy services or not?!”

“no. i only need my lover, please.” he pleads with droopy eyelids, emphasizing his request by tangling his limbs with yours.

he can’t hide from you like he hides from himself. you’re much more gentler with his heart than he is; unconciously, he trusts you more with it.

“you have me. what’s wrong?”

your hands anchored on the sofa are swept away as he pulls you closer, your weight crashing down on him entirely. he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your natural scent and the lavender in your body wash.

“eh, it’s just work… everything that could go wrong is going wrong. we’re trying to figure things out, but what can we do really…? there’s nothing. i- this-this whole thing is just so fucking frustrating, baby. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not just work! it’s your reason for living. of course this is frustrating and painful for you. it’s understandable to feel that way.”

he can practically hear you pouting. he is proven right when you lift your head, leaning in to give him a kiss. he smiles against your lips. he loves you so much.

“so please don’t burn yourself out trying to be okay. you have me by your side who can help you carry your burdens.”

it was scary at the beginning, but now it only feels right. it is impossible not to love you with all of his heart and soul; you deserve nothing less and more than what he can give. when you hug him, he hugs you back tighter.

“you’re my reason to live too.”

“i shouldn’t be. what if i die before you?”

“yah, don’t says things like that!” he scolds you faster than he can think, eyebrows knitted together and frown a tad deeper. “you won’t. it won’t happen.”

“i will die eventually.” you grimace.

“please don’t say such things as ‘i want you to move on and meet someone else and fall in love again and remarry.’ i don’t want to hear it!” he rambles so fast that he doesn’t even understand himself, stumbling and lisping. “i will seriously cry!”

“oh, i don’t care for things like that.”

you make yourself more comfortable; your boyfriend as your own personal bed. sleeping on top of him has been a natural occurence these days, not that he minds. you’re so soft and warm. it’s like hugging a stuffed toy to sleep. still, he’s mindful of you falling off the couch again.

“do whatever you like.” your eyes meet as you bestow him with a smile. “i’ll be dead; i won’t even know what happens next.”

“you don’t care? huh…” he huffs over the hypothetical.

the mere consideration of it feels like cheating. he knows that it technically isn’t, but he can’t imagine spending the rest of his life with someone who isn’t you. nevertheless, if he was being honest and it was the other way around, he’d probably do tell you to leave your heart open. but the topic is not the other way around and jungkook’s heart is stubbornly bound to you.

“why am i getting upset?”

“i don’t care because i’m confident.” you say candidly. “you can fall in love with someone else, but no one will ever love you the way that i do.”

ah, and here comes a side of you that he knows and loves. he swears that cupid is in the room and his heart was just hit by another one of his arrows. it feels so good to be loved so fearlessly.

“i know, so why even bother?” he arrives at a conclusion to his defense, but there’s a much better solution. “please never ever leave me so i won’t have to deal with this dilemma.”

he catches you roll your eyes before he comes face-to-face with the back of your head. your cheek rests on top of his chest; he feels it above his beating heart.

“what then? are we supposed to die together?”

he hums in thought. “it’s not a totally bad idea. we live together, so wouldn’t that make sense too?”

“wow, very shakespearean of you.”

“oh, that’s right! see? isn’t this your type of thing? let’s do it!”

“oh my god, you’re so stupid.” you hide your face behind your hand, giggling in disbelief of the sharp turn this conversation took.

jungkook loves making you laugh. for a little while, he forgets everything else. the world outside may be terrifying but you have your own in your shared apartment. you’re his reason to live too. you ignite the life in his veins. you kiss him with an appetite for passion and love and he enters heaven on earth.

“thank you.” you mumble against his lips.

“thank you?”

“for loving me, for living with me…” your voice wavers and his heart drops to his stomach. he can hold back his tears, but never when he sees yours flowing. “even when you’re tired and having a hard time.”

“you make it sound like a chore, but the truth is loving you gives me the strength to work hard everyday. you do know that, right? baby?” he strokes your hair tenderly, hoping that you receive his sincerity. “i should be the one thanking you… i should say it more often. you didn’t give up on loving me even when it was hurting you.”

“it’s all in the past… you were hurting too.” you reply in a faint whisper. “i love you.”

cupid must owe him a tremendous favor to have granted him the purest form of love a human being could have.

he plants a kiss on your forehead, noticing the rise of your shoulders. an endearing thing they occasionally do when you’re happy, shy, or flattered. it’s one of the many things he learned about you since you started living under the same roof.

he’s been learning about himself too. he tried saving you from himself but this fact is now well-established— you are the sun; it only hurts him to push you away because you’re in everything. it’s the little things that will haunt him if lost. when pieced together, they declare that you love him and he loves you.

the words i’m going home have gained more meaning and he’s excited to say them at the end of each day. he talks about his day and you talk about yours. you find out he’s the reason your lotion ran out too fast again and you chase him around the apartment until he promises to buy you the biggest bottle. you play rock-paper-scissors to figure out who will wash the dishes or receive the food from the delivery guy. you watch too many cooking videos on his phone until one of you falls asleep. most of the time it’s you. tonight, it’s still you.

he must confess that up to this day, he admires you when you sleep. you are safe and sound, and he is mended in places he did not know existed.

it’s time to sleep, he also decides.

he cocoons you in the blanket, then provides another layer of warmth which is his body. once settled, he closes his eyes, sighing in contentment. “what’s the use of our giant bed if we keep on sleeping on the couch?”

—

(?). AN ETERNAL RECORD: MY TREASURE, MY LOVE (ARCHIVED)

[DEC 25 ‘17 02:12AM]

“is it rolling?”

“yes, it’s rolling.”

you excitedly look at the film camera from the thick pile of snow on the ground, moving your arms up and down and your legs from side to side. an attempt to create a snow angel.

your giggles and the crackles of the snow are heard through the speaker.

the lens zoom in on your face.

childlike joy in the form of an everlasting smile and snowflakes on your hair.

“am i doing it?!”

“you are!”

“really?”

“really!”

“is it pretty?”

your face comes out of the frame. for a second only the white snow is seen, and then the dark brown of your coat as you skip towards the camera.

“let me watch!”

the camera shakes before it pans to the ground.

rustling of clothes and a shy, panicked voice.

“hold on- i-i’ll just fix the…”

“why?”

“huh, what do i do?” a forced laugh to mask nervousness. “i think it didn’t save-”

[shunsuiken]

I JUST CAN’T LEAVE YOU ALONE, CAN WE GET EVEN CLOSER?

pairing. kamisato ayato x gn!bodyguard!reader

genre. fluff for the most part + does get suggestive tho 😁

synopsis. the yashiro commissioner resorts to a scandalous method to get your attention.

wc. 1.5k (i know its short but i wanted to get straight to the point LMAO)

an. guys this is so dumb but one thing that popped up in my head while writing this is that tiktok of that girl going i slowly started to be seducted by him like he’s trying to SEDUCE me 😭😭😭 omg that shits so fuckin funny

“you’re too far away, y/n.”

your eye twitches as you stare at the wooden door. he’s teasing you. a filthy load of shamelessness drips in his tone. an arm rises so he can relax his cheek in his palm, eyeing your figure that has been standing in front of the door this whole time.

you realise why he’s decided to open his mouth after five minutes of dead silence.

you’re not looking at him.

“y/n, i said you’re too far away.” his voice is louder this time. it sounds closer to a command.

“i am standing at an appropriate distance from you, my lord.” you’re staring laser beams into the door at this point. “feel free to attend to your bathing requirements independently.”

ayato scoffs. a shiver crawls up your spine.

“it was my understanding that you, my personal bodyguard, were informed about the injuries i sustained during the failed fatui assassination attempt.” drawing circles in the water with the tip of his index finger, he sighs, “sadly, my current physical state renders me incapable of attending to my bathing requirements.”

“so i would be most grateful for your assistance.” you can practically see the grin on his lips, devilish and scheming.

before ayato picks up the bathing cloth, you’ve already given in, practically attaching your eyes to the bathtub as you sit on the stool provided for you. taking the cloth, you dip it in the water to soak it up before gently gliding it across his shoulders with shaky hands.

“ah, there we go. now wasn’t that easy?” ayato turns his face towards you, now showing more of his naked back—wet and glistening in all its glory.

you feel you might faint.

you hum in agreement, holding onto that blasted bathing cloth for dear life. ayato seems to notice and turns his whole body towards you out of curiosity, but your head snaps in the other direction instead!

“y/n, how will you help me bathe if you’re facing that way?” you can hear the water splash around the stone material of the tub. it drips down the side, slowly sliding towards the stone floor.

you’re his bodyguard. you’re his bodyguard. this wasn’t part of the job description—so why are you even here?!

“my lord, i find it difficult to provide assistance if you keep moving,” you respond indifferently, maintaining some level of professionalism despite how this situation has broken all levels of it.

from the corner of your eye, you can vaguely see his hair sticking to his collarbones and shoulders. ayato knows you can see him like this. so there’s simply no point in acting such a way. but he laughs, humoured by your behaviour anyway. “oh please drop the formalities. i am merely an injured man before you.”

a naked, injured man. you correct him silently.

“mm.” you don’t really know what else to say. how were you supposed to explain any of this to anybody if they caught you leaving the bathing hall with him?!

you soak up the wash cloth once more, beginning to clean him up again. avoiding all eye contact and opportunities of skinship turns out to be much more difficult than you thought. however, when it’s time to clean his chest area, you wordlessly pass the cloth back to him.

“hm?” he looks at you. “what about over here?” he asks, pointing at his chest shamelessly.

you gape at him—oh, you’re finally looking at him now. and you wish you didn’t.

ayato is so utterly gorgeous. cheeks dusted in a shade of pink from the steam and his lips, moistened and sanguine. he would have been recognised as a deity were it not for his mortal disposition.

ayato rather takes pleasure in this look on your face. baffled, stunned, dumbfounded—this list could go on! what he finds interesting though, is that your eyes never seem to go past his shoulders. and, ayato, being quite fond of his cute and adorable bodyguard, has to tease you.

“this is as far as i will go,” you inhale, feeling like your mask of indifference will crumble within seconds. “my lord, it would be inappropriate for me to assist you in this area.”

ayato’s brows raise in excitement, revelling in how you try to stay professional. you’re doing a much better job than he would’ve expected—if it were anybody else, they would have been seduced right away.

but it’s you that the lord is playing with. and he intends to play with you until he is satisfied.

“but you’ve already come this far, why not do the rest while you’re at it?” your bottom lip quivers.

ayato figures that he’ll need to try something else to get your attention to where it needs to be.

you gasp when he takes your hand in his, gently pulling you towards him until you’re sitting on the edge of the stone tub. your uniform is dampened as you sit on the edge but you can care less when ayato peers up at you with those lavender eyes.

“m- my lord, what do you intend to do?” you curse yourself silently for stuttering. the vapour from the bath water makes your cheeks hot and sticks your hair to your forehead.

kind of looks like you could use a bath too. ayato makes a brief comment in his mind, his thumb caressing the back of your hand as he ponders on a response.

“get in the bath with me.”

a moment passes by. you swear you have never heard a more ridiculous request than this. for the past few years you’ve dealt with his unique appetite, his clothing requirements and his… special personality but this request is the first one that renders you speechless.

“what?”

“get in the bath with me,” ayato repeats, firmer this time.

you’ve lost feeling in your legs ever since he took your hand, but it’s not long before you’re soaked in bath water—with ayato there to soften the fall as your hands instinctively grab onto his shoulders. you land with an oompf, fingers wiping droplets on your face, unfortunately missing the biggest grin on your boss’ lips.

“there, that was not so difficult, was it?” his voice is much closer by your ear now, sending a wave of chills down your spine.

you hesitantly meet his eyes, behind those pretty lashes and soft sky blue hair that clings to his forehead and cheeks. “wasn’t,” you mutter as your gaze shakes in your stare. you fear that if you tear your eyes away from him again he’ll do something else even more ridiculous.

the water swooshes and you fall onto your butt when ayato finds himself on top of your lap. you can feel his thighs just gently pressing against your own which is making you wonder how you haven’t already lost consciousness.

but it’s also making you think about things you never would’ve thought you would think about.

is ayato, your employer, trying to seduce you?!

you try to think of something to say. anything. doesn’t matter how random it could be. you inhale sharply, “so did you actually have work to do or did you just want me to loiter around you?”

“not to ‘loiter’,” ayato chuckles at your word choice while you think you’ve heard heaven’s gates fly right open. “but to ‘accompany’. i did indeed have work to complete but such a mind-numbing task becomes more bearable with you around.” he traces your cheek with the pad of his thumb, palm just ghosting over your ear. “do you know how adorable you look when you’re sitting by the door with that straight look on your face?”

“that is my job, my lord.” you don’t lean away from his touch. a good sign for him. “i didn’t think i would be such a distraction, if you would like, i could relocate just outsi-”

it’s featherlight. barely even a kiss. just a gentle brush of his lips over yours. but that miniscule feeling is like a fire and it burgeons in your chest, melting away the cold iceberg of your doubts and worries. there is no turning back now. it’s like your hand has grown a mind of its own when it wraps around ayato’s neck, pulling him closer so his lips collide with yours again.

“oh dear,” ayato mutters lowly. his hair tickles your cheek. “are my feelings being reciprocated?”

your lips are like magnets to his. it makes you grin at the revelation of your own emotions. “i fear you’ve successfully seduced me, my lord.” ayato smiles as your gaze flickers between his eyes and lips.

being caged between his arms has to be considered some sort of sport for your heart. the last time it threatened to leap out of your chest like this was during the official selection of ayato’s bodyguards.

“that makes a fine headline for the steambird, don’t you think?” ayato keeps his lips close to yours, doing everything he can in his power to not crash his lips onto yours again. and so pathetically too. “‘bodyguard allegedly seduced by the yashiro commissioner’.”

“indeed. now wouldn’t that shake things up here in inazuma,” you laugh, cupping your hands in the water to pour over what you can onto his shoulders. “well now that you’re all cleaned up, don’t you think you should get ready for bed?”

ayato gives you a pointed look. “will you dress me?”

“i-” you shouldn’t even pretend like you’re surprised by this. nodding your head, you reassure him, “that can be arranged.”

[kiukiu1270]

“We’ve seen everything, from Saturn to Mars ✩♬ ₊˚.”

✷ 　 　🛸　.　๏ .• 　° ★　• ☄.

๏ •. . . ·˚ * . • •. 　🌎　°

　•　★　*　.*　°·　　•. ๏ .• ⋆ ☄︎.

·˚ . •. 🛰 * ✧⋆ ·˚ *

　•　 * *　 ° ๏ .• 　 🌀 * ✧ 🌓

.　• ☄. ๏ ✧⋆ ·˚ *

🪐 　 *　 * ⋆ 　 . ⋆ ˚ *

· 　˚　 ⋆ 　　🚁(heh) 　 ˚ ˚ 　☽　 ✦　. ⋆ ✧　

　 ⋆ · 　 * ⋆ . ⋆ • ⋆ ☄︎.·˚ * 　

· ✧　✵.• ⋆ .· ˚ * · 🚀 ⋆˚* 🔭 ✧⋆

Yayayay 15 Fyolai Valentines day art that I did

God this took absolutely forever to draw but I’m pretty proud of it

7hr 3min on Procreate (damn)

Lol I love watermarking my work like crazy as if anyone is gonna see my art lmao

Okok *tried* to make an “aesthetic” caption…. If it looks cringe lets not talk about that 😭😭

Haven’t done a full all out render in a while (but tbh I kinda gave up halfway so its still kinda bad lol) Took some inspiration from TBHK art but also just rendered in my usual style too

I… don’t know how to render clothing folds lets not talk about that

The background is pretty meh… drew it from scratch (ily procreate brushes) but ehhhh perspective kinda wrong

foreshortening killed me

But I guess it turned out pretty enough lol

[rinnelovebot]

A/N: happy rinne day!! I knew I needed to squeeze in a little something for him :) I love him with my whole heart… but you already knew that. I also wrote this so I could squeal about his birthday without being annoying to my friends lmao

*ೃ༄ once a year

Rinne sighed as he shut the door behind the last few guests — leaving him, you, and the joyously messy aftermath of his surprise birthday party in your shared apartment.

How lovely, to have been surrounded by the people he cared about, dancing and drinking and having a good time on the anniversary of his birth.

Although, if he was being honest — being the subject of such celebration felt… strange.

Did he really deserve it? To have friends who would arrange something like this for him? To have a lover who showered him with birthday kisses the moment his eyes opened in the morning? To have his birthday or himself recognized at all? Rinne had always wanted to be appreciated and seen, but now that he had it… he didn’t know how to handle it. It was all so overwhelming.

Conflicted, he turned his gaze to you, watching as you absentmindedly plucked a few pieces of shimmery confetti out of your hair. “So, do you feel older?”

A grin spread across his face; of course you’d ask that. “I can feel the back pain settlin’ in already, darlin’.” He joked, taking one last swig from his soda can before crunching it and tossing it into one of the various trash bags that had accumulated in your living room, filled to the brim with discarded gift wrap.

“That’s okay,” you smiled — just like you always did, “I’ll massage it for you, old man.”

As the two of you worked to clean up the mess littering your apartment, you noticed that Rinne had adopted a rather… sullen expression: eyebrows slightly furrowed, pools of cerulean not focused on anything in particular; the face he wore when he was deep in thought.

You placed one more throw pillow back on the couch before pausing, slowly walking to where he had been hunched over the counter, taking a small break of his own. Gently, your knuckles traced the skin of his cheek. “What’s up? Don’t want your birthday to be over just yet?”

If only that were it. With a slow blink, he rose back to full height, turning to face you. “Nah, it’s not that,” he said, “it’s just…”

It was easy to tell that he was experiencing some serious inner turmoil about telling you, as if he didn’t want to bring your mood down. But you could also tell that he hadn’t completely closed himself off — he was just searching for the right words.

Rinne’s heart squeezed in his chest, somewhat shyly taking your hand in his. “I…” he took a breath, “You didn’t need to do all of this for me.” His voice was small, quiet; ashamed.

Admittedly, you were afraid that this was coming. “Rinne,” you spoke, fondly and adoringly, “I know, but I wanted to. You deserve it.”

You deserve it, your voice rang in his ears. He brought you into his arms, clinging to you a little harder than what would be considered comfortable; but he needed the physical reassurance. Your fingertips softly raked over his clothed back, taking in his scent — warm, like a bonfire on the beach.

“I promise you do,” your words were punctuated with a kiss to the side of his head, “More than anyone else, Rinne; plus, your friends and I had a lot of fun putting all of this together for you. Even HiMERU couldn’t hold back a grin at the thought of your face when you opened the door.”

It made your heart ache, to know that he felt lesser than. It hurt badly enough when you caught on for the first time many months ago — but this reminder, on his day, crushed you more than anything else ever could.

“I know it’s hard to feel like you do, but I wouldn’t lie to you. You deserve it all — everything.” The praise made his ears burn. “I’d serve you the world on a silver platter, if I could.”

It was incredibly difficult to render Rinne Amagi at a loss for words, but you always managed to hit home; so instead, he held on tighter, hoping you’d forgive his sudden childishness.

Not that that’s anything you’d ever hold against him, of course. You cradled his head against your shoulder, soft red locks meeting your fingertips. You wondered what he was thinking.

Many things, many things — all of which could be summed up by: how did I get this lucky? How did I get this far?

“That so…?” he mumbled, “I’d do the same for you. A million times over.”

You sighed contently, glad to hear his voice again. “Well I’d do it a trillion…”

“Yeah? Try quadrillion.”

“Hm… I don’t know what comes after that.”

A small grin spread across his lips, pulling back to get a good look at you — beautiful, wearing the smile that he loved oh-so much. One that could always uplift him. “It’s quintillion,” Rinne chuckled, “But still, can’t ya’ let the birthday boy win, baby?”

A complaint threatened to spill from your lips, but you held it in, instead choosing to be grateful for his reestablished good mood; in the end, his happiness was all you had wanted out of today.

You pretended to think it over, tapping your bottom lip with a pensive index finger. “Alright, fine.” You concluded, appreciating his usual shit-eating grin, “But in exchange… I want you to accept what I said earlier.”

A prolonged silence filled the air. Not one of discomfort, but of deep thought.

“Please…?”

“Well…” Slowly, Rinne cupped your cheeks with warm palms, gently bringing your foreheads together. He always looked so tender in the night. “Yeah, I will. But only ‘cause it’s you… And, thanks.”

Thanks — for the wonderful birthday party, for your patience, for your love.

“Don’t thank me. I had fun.”

Don’t thank me — my love for you is an active choice, you’re all I need.

The beauty of your relationship was the little need for words. Your mutual understanding went far enough — Rinne never thought he’d have something like that. You’re all his, he’s all yours; to have someone so close would have been unimaginable before he met you.

“So,” you continued, “does the birthday boy have any final requests?”

As the clock ticked towards midnight, his lips grew closer to your own — and his hands travelled downward, resting on your waist. With his palms squeezing your hips so deliciously, you decided that perhaps the mess within your tornado victim of an apartment would have to wait until morning.

“Maybe a few.”

[riddle-me-ri]

How would the hatters react to their s/o surprising three with lingerie? If I spelled that right..

A/N: Hey sweet anon! If you mean the word lingerie, yes you did spell it right! I know it’s one of those weird words lol. However, I’m gonna make a wee assumption that by “three” you meant “them” because I’ve had spellcheck TRY to fix that for me like that lmao. I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for requesting!

Btw; HQTAS is Harley Quinn the Animated Series…its just a mouthful lol

Trigger Warning: highly suggestive, alludes to sexual activity nothing explicit

The Mad Hatters’ React to Reader Wearing Lingerie

Arkhamverse Mad Hatter: 

- Jervis is surprised at first.

- He’d gasp shakily, but they'd quickly morph into giddy chuckles. 

- To say he's extremely pleased is an understatement. 

- He won't waste any time reaching his hands out to touch you.

- Hold you, caress you, whisper sweet nothings in your ear. 

- That is if he doesn't just immediately pounce on you.

- Jervis would be delighted to see you in something like this time and time again…

- Maybe even as a certain character perhaps…?

BTAS Mad Hatter: 

- This mad lad is dead to rights. 

- Absolutely positively paralyzed but in a good way…

- His mouth is opening and closing like a fish out of water.

- He's kind of panicking, wondering if there's some special occasion he may have forgotten. 

- But no, you just wanted to treat him, he always spoils you but you rarely get to return the favor. 

- Once the initial shock is over, he’s absolutely smitten with you

- Practically falls in love all over again. 

TNBA Mad Hatter: 

- Much like his BTAS counterpart.

- He's rendered speechless and smitten. 

- Jervis has to blink a couple times, maybe even pinch himself for good measure.

- Nope, yeah you're real. 

- He knows he should say or do something.

- Jervis will try and form some sort of sentence, some flattering comment

- It comes out in scattered mumbles but you’re able to piece most of it together. 

- You’ll probably need to help him from here on out. 

- Which you don’t mind, it’s a treat for you both anyway.

Gotham Mad Hatter: 

- I don’t know why. 

- No idea why, but like I can see him gifting you with lingerie. 

- Of course once you two get comfortable and he realizes that's a thing you're into. 

- Jervis is all about spoiling you. 

- You deserve nothing but the best overall.

- Albeit, you’d look gorgeous in anything. 

- He appreciates how it hugs and contours your body’s natural curves.

- Much like what his hands do whether your clothed or not. 

- Much like what he wants his hands to do about now.

HQTAS Mad Hatter:

- Oh…

- Oh ho ho ho

- Mad lad’s mad giddy. 

- He’s delightfully surprised. 

- His plans for dominating the world through peculiar headwear

- Will have to be put on hold

- You’re much more important and tantalizing. 

- Extremely excited and eager from the sight.

Joker’s Asylum Mad Hatter: 

- Aww this poor wee mad lad.

- He wasn't ready.

- Kinda like TNBA, he's pinching himself, he's mumbling unsure. 

- He was always worried you were some kind of vision or fantasy. 

- But nope you're very real, and you reach out to him to remind him, cupping his cheek.

- Jervis becomes smitten with you all over again as he looks over your scantily clad form. 

- Who needs tea, hats, and storybooks?

- When all his Wonderland needs is a gorgeous, warm, person such as you?

Society Six (2009) Mad Hatter: 

- You’re dead in the water unless you have a hat.

- This Jervis LITERALLY had Knockout walk past him completely nude and didn’t bat an eye

- But since it’s you, it helps that you two already have a relationship and he already adores you. 

- But the hat will make a difference just, just trust me babe. 

- You'd capture his attention so quickly. 

- Literally bouncing around, tickled pink he would be.

- Jervis won't need to hypnotize himself anymore to feel euphoria

- Why would he when he has you?

[goosewriting]

yesterday i finally watched the new tmnt movie!! at first i wanted to do a live reaction kinda thing, except that wouldn’t work because i'd have to reblog every entry and hiding every single part under a "read more" would be not only tedious, but i'm not even sure if it's possible lol

so instead have a collection of my thoughts here! (spoiler warning, duh)

first of all: the art style. there’s something strangely nostalgic about it. it feels like that is what my mental storyboards as a kid would have looked like, had i been into animating back then. or at least that would have been close to the style i would have liked to emulate.

the explosions looking like violent scribbles is just so 😩🤌♥ chef's kiss, truly. there's something about the art in general that just moves in such a particular way and holds a certain weight and volume,, it feels like cardboard and clay and crayons and the piles upon piles of coloured pencils i used to have as a kid and how the wooden pencil drawer smelled. i'm such a fan of this style i’M obsessed o(-<

in the intro shots for the turtles, raph licking his sai blades is so extra and i love him for that lmao

for some reason i completely forgot they cast jackie chan as splinter and tbh idk how to feel about it? no hate towards him; i just don't think voice acting is his strong suit

meanwhile i'm looooving mikey's voice. also leo's beacuse, well first of all, i am a leo girlie (gender neutral) through and through so i would have loved all aspects of him no matter what. but his voice actor is gumball's i believe? and that's one of my comfort shows 🥺 i just love him sm

this little donnie is sending me, i- 🤣

superfly's theme reminds me of miguel's for some reason? 😂 and i'm here for it ahahh

the whole watermelon scene lmaoo teeangers being teenagers, finally

aaaand here comes the probably forced romance subplot 😅😅 (more on that later)

the whole fighting scene in the workshop tinted in red? ugh 10/10

ok so, april: i really like how they met. i like her design, her voice and her whole vibe. the whole puking jokes were a little too much for me; personally im not a fan of fart or puke jokes because, well, i’m not a 12yo boy (looking at you seth rogen) but all in all i really liked this rendition of april. it sucks tho that the turtles got a snazzy outfit by the end, both for school and for prom, but april’s clothes always remained the same. would have loved to see what she wore to prom!

the gen z lingo and references: …i mean, i guess it makes sense? i just don’t know how well it will age xD the references to end game and all were fun but, again, will someone in 15 years understand what they meant? will someone in 15 years know what rizz is?

changing the topic, the way eyeballs are rendered??? hello?? they’re so expressive and shiny and i lowkey wanna lick them ok

the chris pine cutout actually made me choke on my food from both surprise and laughter jhdfkjashdf

oookay so. superfly and his gang. first of all when the gecko talked i went like hey is that ant-man? lmao i love all the designs and ice cube as the villain works?? im not mad?? lol now, his plan however... sigh, my guy. killing all humans aside, have you maybe thought that if you turn every single animal and insect into a mutant, the whole ecosystem would all but collapse? there will be no planet left to belittle the humans on (:

"he'll run out of cars eventually" / *looks at parking* / “oh, c’mon!” lmaoo 😂 this joke was excellent

so, back to the forced romance thing. look i get it, they needed a reason to help out april to get the plot going. and if leo said it, then the rest would follow. i get that. but throughout the whole movie, aside from like his brothers elbowing his side knowingly, there’s no more allusion to anything? and then only at the veeeery end, he asks her out and she says yes, so i was like “oh okay so that’s the payoff then. took long enough” but then when they’re dancing she rhetorically asks if they’re just doing this as friends and 😐 maybe this is just my aroace self projecting but,, if you’re gonna use romance/romantic interest as a catalyst (lame tbh), at least be consequent about it?? if you (the writers) didn’t have the intention to explore the relationship, then leave it altogether? again, this is just my aroace opinion,, i can’t relate so i don’t understand. (which i know seems contradictory given my uh, repertoire of fics lmao) personally i would have preferred a different reason for them to helping out april, and having them all just be besties by the end, which they ended up being anyway

so, to sum it all up. it’s a story we’ve seen a hundred times, so there was really nothing new to it. the plot was okay,, the biggest thing that “bothered” me was superfly’s whole extermination thing making no sense, technically. but other than that, my eyes and ears were having an absolute feast. a very enjoyable film all in all. when we got rottmnt, i was like “oh finally an iteration of the teenage mutant ninja turtles where they’re actually teenagers” but scratch that. mutant mayhem is the most teenager one, and i loved them for that. time will tell how the jokes will age but yeah, the way they were depicted was definitely my favourite thing about the film aside from the art style.

have you guys seen it? what are your thoughts? lemme know :D feel free to comment here or send in some asks!

[myshredda]

It was negative nine degrees today where I live and my mom still pulled us out to an outdoor ice rink for a couple hours. Bc when she buys tickets, we’re using the tickets, damn it! But I figured duck would be like that too lol He spent money on it so it would be a waste not to go!

All the little ones get bundled up. I’m talking two pairs of socks, five pairs of pants, two sweaters, coat, boots, scarf, two pairs of gloves and two hats until duck even thinks of letting them out. Red says this seems like a lot of work for smth that will probably make everyone miserable but duck just screams that they’re going lol

They get there and it’s chaos lol No one knows how to skate except duck so they’re all just conga lining behind him. Eventually he gets fed up w their falling and wobbling, throwing him off balance, so they rent a bunch of those little walker-like things that the kids can hold onto as they skate around. Unfortunately they don’t have one in reds size so he’s basically stuck to the wall the whole time lol

Green and pink pick it up pretty easily after that and leave the walkers behind. They still fall a lot but are able to follow after duck like little ducklings lol Yellow keeps calling after them “wait up, I’m coming!” but even w the support, he’s falling every two seconds. Duck screams at red “eugh, get off the wall and go help your son!”

Once he manages to drag himself over to yellow, red sees a lot of other parents pushing their kids while they just hold onto the walkers. He tries that but he’s bent over so much and is already terrible at skating, it just makes both of them fall more. But at least yellow isn’t so upset now… bc he’s too busy laughing at red failing miserably at standing up again lol

In the end they get hot chocolate and freshly baked doughnuts and as soon as they get home, everybody crashes lol Just falls asleep on the couch

(Also merry Christmas)

I answered this late but merry christmas!!!!!

LOVE them going on fun family outings and being chaotic in public together, it's so fun to imagine them being menaces but as a loving clump 💗

Duck demanding that they go to the Ice Rink because he already spent money on it reminds me all the world of Lois from Malcolm in the Middle making them all go to the zoo because she had a coupon for it, which again links into my 'Red and Duck are a weird mix of Hal and Lois/Bob and Linda hfeheh) All of the kids probably have varying levels of discomfort with restrictive clothes (bc children + autistic) and they're like "WELL RED DOESN'T HAVE TO WEAR CLOTHES" which results in Duck forcing Red to wear his scarf and jacket and mittens for once (which he grouchily accepts) and ends in him screeching that "EVERYONE IS WEARING CLOTHES AND THATS FINAL" the usual family trip shit lmao

THE IMAGERY OF THEM FOLLOWING DUCK LIKE DUCKLINGS HAS ME SCREAMING AND CRYINGGGGG (with Red bringing up the back of course) and I think Pink and Green would definitely pick up on it pretty quick and start dashing around and trying to race each other. Red's a hopeless case, and Yellow's absolute lack of balance on solid ground would render him USELESS on the ice for real.

Yellow trying to keep up and failing oh NO my baby 🥺🥺🥺 Him and Red being terrible together and Red's back giving out when bending over and scooting Yellow along the ice is so real. SO REAL. Duck eventually comes by and takes a turn with Yellow so Red can stand up straight and he just grips the wall and rethinks his entire life while the other patrons give him a wide berth because he's making this face

and Duck finally gets the memo and gathers the kids to go get cocoa and donuts and they're all having a WONDERFUL time and Red's FEET HURT and his BACK HURTS and he's DAMP and COLD and Duck holds his hand on the way home and his brain short circuits and he's suddenly had the best day of his entire life and they all just collapse on the suddenly appearing couch (which is larger now thank you attic milf) and in the morning they have to do laundry and shower because they're all RANK 💖💖💖💖💖

[fictionfawn]

that boy is a monster

The Balladeer. Everyone who knows his name is aware of just how two-faced and deceptive he is. Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, his appearance and initial mannerisms are so charmingly innocent — but beware, for it is all a ruse to draw in his prey and strike them down.

So, when it comes out that the infamous Scaramouche that has a notoriously terrible attitude is actually in a relationship, everyone is shocked. No one is quite sure how it came about, but they are horrified nonetheless.

Most, if not all, pity the poor being who had the misfortune of being the 6th Fatui Harbinger’s significant other. Surely, life with one of the most ruthless men in Tevyat would be absolute torture. Well, why don’t we find out?

(these were supposed to be just hcs but I went crazy with them LMAO. spreading the soft!scaramouche agenda because I can and I will.)

warnings include: swearing and a smidge of angst. scara has abandonment issues pls give him a hug. ALSO!! spoiler warning for his real name

(1k+ words. read more under the cut)

Scaramouche who is shockingly easy to fluster. A simple caress of his arm or shoulder, or when you tell him you love him and he’s suddenly stumbling over his words, trying to prevent his brain from turning to mush. No matter how long you’ve been together, he’s never able to get used to the affection you show him. He finds it extremely mildly humiliating how easy it is for you to make him all fuzzy and light-headed. In the end, he presses his lips together and shuts up, cheeks tinged with a pink hue. He’ll mutter something under his breath, scoff and turn his head away from your line of sight until he regains his composure so he can give you snark. (using a nickname or even his real name will bring out an even more satisfactory reaction from him)

Scaramouche who is reminiscent of a grumpy old cat. He’ll pretend to despise your touch, but leans in closer when you hold his soft cheek in the palm of your hand. He gives you a weak glare, but it immediately falters when he sees the way you’re looking at him — eyes half-lidded and a disgustingingly smug (yet agonisingly attractive — not like he’d admit it) grin on your face.

“Don’t look at me like that. You look stupid.” Don’t listen to him. he’s smitten like a kitten with you. (so are we, babe)

“Ku, are you blushing?”

“... No.” He is in a constant state of denial. “Shut up.”

Scaramouche is quick-witted and silver-tongued; he always has something to say. He’s genuinely so creative with his insults, and he knows it. So, how does he utilise his skills? He uses them to make you laugh. His wording is so eloquent and he always comes up with the perfect words to use that make you almost keel over with laughter. Something flutters in his chest when you cackle and wipe tears away from your face because of something he said. It makes him burst with pride and brings a smile to his face. He always ends up laughing with you.

Seeing you happy never fails to make him happy.

But, him being him, he’ll always take the opportunity to tease you. He finds it incredibly amusing when you play along with him and clap back at him with your own little insults. There are many times where he’ll flirt with you really intensely. Yet, he’s almost always rendered speechless when you flirt back with equal or more intensity. Usually, he just can’t take what he dishes out.

Scaramouche who is so gentle with you, treating you like fragile porcelain or Tevyat’s finest gemstone. His words compared to the way he actually treats you is so wildly different that it can give you a serious case of whiplash.

When you accidentally hurt yourself while he’s present, he’ll find himself immediately by your side. He’ll shake his head and tut, calling you a careless moron in a sharp tone whilst simultaneously treating your injury with a touch so gentle it could make you cry. It surprises him as well, too, occasionally.

Scaramouche, who whenever you ask him for something, he’ll do it for you. Let’s say you ask him to buy you something: he’ll typically huff and puff about it or not give you a straight answer, but the next day you’ll find the exact thing you wanted on the kitchen table with a very impatient Scaramouche standing beside it with his arms crossed together. When you beam at him, give him a big old kiss on the cheek and happily thank him, he’ll roll his eyes and scoff, telling you that it’s ‘not that big of a deal.’ Though, when he looks at you, you can tell that he’s pleased as well because of the subtle smile he’s wearing. Does it look a little bit smug? Maybe. Yes, actually.

And when he finds something that he thinks would match with your tastes, he’ll get it for you without even thinking twice.

Scaramouche who always goes to bed late, even on days where he isn’t gone for work. Does he enjoy it? No, not really. But does he do it anyways? Yes. He doesn’t expect you to stay up and wait for him, nor would he be pleased by you losing sleep because of him.

When he walks into your shared room and sees you sleeping peacefully, he’ll make his way over to his side of the bed and carefully sit down. There’s an odd yet gentle glint in his eyes as he gently traces his fingertips over the slopes of your skin. When you subconsciously lean into his touch and shuffle closer towards him, something akin to guilt and grief bubbles up in his stomach, yet at the same time he bursts with adoration for you and the trust that you so effortlessly give him, even in your sleep.

There’s a part of him tells him that you could do so much better than be with someone like him. You could leave him at any point for someone else, someone who will treat you better, someone who will make you happier, someone human. And he knows it. And while he just wants the best for you, whether he’ll admit it or not, he is also a selfish man. He’d do anything to keep you by his side. He just wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you left him — it would tear him apart.

You tossing him to the side and leaving him is one of, if not his most greatest fear. And he’ll do anything and everything in his power to make sure it never happens.

Scaramouche who was fascinated by the notion of ‘true love’. In the years he spent his time being but a humble traveller in Inazuma, he came across a good number of couples in love. He met many different ones: old and young, wealthy and poor, those who were like night and day and so many more. Yes, he didn’t pay too much attention to them, but he couldn’t help but often wonder what it would be like to experience such feelings of adoration for someone. Was he even deserving of something so beautiful? Was it possible?

When he joined the Fatui, he decided that the concept of love was stupid. ‘It’s useless,’ he said. ‘It’s all bullshit,’ he said. Well, he changed his mind once he met you and found himself completely and utterly enamoured by you.

He’s grateful he got to experience such a complex yet simple thing with you, even if he still acts like he’s above it all. (who’s the stupid one now, bitch?)

Scaramouche who keeps you the fuck away from anything Fatui related. Getting you associated them is a dangerous game and you both know it, which is why he prefers to keep you in the dark about the more deeper aspects of his career. He will talk shit about his co-workers and subordinates with you, though. Usually, it’s amusing, but sometimes it’s plain concerning. You’re used to things being that way with Scaramouche, though. He’ll vent to you about how stupid and incompetent his underlings are without even realising it, it just slips out.

A lot of the Fatui know that you exist, but they don’t know who exactly you are, and Scaramouche plans to keep it that way. You stay safe and he gets to keep you all to himself — it’s a win in his books.

Scaramouche who always takes the time to read the letters you send him thoroughly, no matter how lengthy they are.

will send you letters whenever he’s away from you. His letters typically consist of him complaining about something, feeling violent and then saying that he would much rather be spending time with you. His letters will either be on the more detailed side or very brief depending on how busy he is, there’s no inbetween. Whether he’s in a rush or not, his handwriting will always stay the same. It’s probably the prettiest handwriting you’ve ever seen. He definitely takes pride in how neat his letters look, too.

Scaramouche who nevers fails to end his letters with:

‘take care of yourself, or else.

Yours forever, Kunikuzushi.’

[herecirmsims]

Posepack #19: Hiding Behind A Rock

What an imaginative title, I blow myself away sometimes. Anyway; the second set of poses to come out of those I made for a recent story chapter, for your drunk or injured Sims who are - you guessed it - hiding behind a rock, talking with someone, and struggling to get up. Please take a look at the mini tutorial to see how to use this one!

Note: The top of the Sims’ heads can be seen from the other side of the rock, which might suit your storytelling purposes, but if not you can just pile some more rocks up behind/add in some shrubbery/etc. 

Also note: The posepack only contains the poses for the two behind the boulder. I used @samssims for the third Sim in my preview pic.

ALSO (lmao): disregard the hoodie. It’s not required. I’m just dumb and didn’t know how to remove it from my low-quality renders.

This ought to work for femme and masc rigs but be aware of clipping depending on body type and clothing... you know, the usual. Please do not redistribute or claim as your own. I don’t mind alterations being made if you use them in Blender renders, but I’d appreciate a tag! 

Download here (SFS)

[muffinshark]

Hello, I’ve just started oil and digital painting but having issues figuring out the process and as you are my main inspiration, just thought I’d ask if you feel up to doing a detailed breakdown of your paintings/process. Thank you for your time :>>>

sure! I can't really give a detailed breakdown of the actual painting/rendering part because that's mostly experience gained from trial and error and also way more information than I can really put down here re: values, color, general technique, etc. (there are tons of speed paint videos on youtube that I would really recommend watching if you want to get an idea of how other people paint) but I can sort of... go through all of the steps of a painting from beginning to finish under this cut:

1.) thumbnails: after I know what I want to paint, I'll start with rough sketches on scrap paper to figure out composition, image dimensions, etc. I'll then do a small sketch in photoshop, and block in general colors and an idea of the lighting setup.

I tend to throw away the scrap paper after I finish a piece, so I only have the thumbnail sketches for the piece I'm working on atm:

2.) research and reference gathering: this step happens pretty much side-by-side with step 1. I collect as many references I can to help me with likeness, lighting, clothing, etc. etc. etc. If my piece is set in a specific time period (lately it’s been the 20s-40s nyc lmao), I'll research period-accurate clothes, interiors, props. Sometimes if I cannot get the right reference for the pose or lighting, I'll take a picture of myself. I know a lot of artists use PureRef, but I just dump all of the references I collect onto a huge photoshop file for easy access while I paint.

If you’re painting realistically, this is an important step! It is extremely difficult to paint realistically from your head. All of the old portrait paintings hanging in museums were painted with live models as reference. Professional artists use photo references all the time (you can actually find some of the reference photos that illustrators like Norman Rockwell and Alphonse Mucha took and compare them to the final illustrations). It will make things MUCH easier for you, and you will improve much more quickly as well.

3.) full-size sketch, color block-in : I'm more of a painter than a lineartist/draftsman, so my sketches tend to be pretty shitty, but all they really need to be is a guide for where to put the colors as they will eventually be painted over anyway. (The only exception to this is portraits; for those I will often do a detailed sketch with accurate proportions so I don’t have to worry about whether an eye is too high or if the nose is too long while I’m actually painting) I draw my sketch on a separate layer, set it on multiply, lock it. Then on a layer underneath, I paint in rough colors. Sometimes I'm lazy and will just enlarge my color thumbnail and use that instead of painting it over again.

sketch:

color block-in:

4.) merge sketch and color layers and start to paint: once I'm satisfied with the sketch and colors, I duplicate the sketch layer, lock it, and set it to invisible just in case I ever need it later as a guide. Then I merge the remaining sketch layer with the color layer, and lock the resulting layer. That's my base. I create a new layer over it and start painting. From here, it's just a lot of noodling around, rendering, and refining to get to the final painting! I know a lot of painters tend to keep all their elements on separate layers, but I like to work with as few layers as possible as it more closely resembles how I would paint in oils.

here's a wip of my current piece as well as a progression wip for an older one:

my actual painting process is just: slap down the colors i want, and slowly add more detail and shading until it’s rendered to to something that isn’t awful and messy haha

5.) textures, color adjustments: I generally don’t like the smooth, polished look digital art can lean towards, so I also add on textures and noise to make it look rough and imperfect and more like traditional media. Also minor things like fabric/wood textures that would take me a long time to paint freehand and just isn’t worth the time to do so. Then I play with color adjustments. Sometimes at this point in the painting process I’ll have changed my mind and want a slightly different color scheme/mood than what I started out with, or sometimes I’ll have migrated a little too far from the initial colors and want to go back --color adjustments are perfect for this.

initial thumbnail colors:

final colors:

aaand that’s basically it!

[morvantmortuary]

I just saw the garter post and I feel like a Victorian all over again... show just the smallest bit of exposed skin and I will die... imagining Maxi in that is killing me (also I might be slightly tipsy but dont tell anyone)

1. babe it’s saturday where I am, you’re good lmao 🖤

2. are we not all rendered somewhat Victorian-ly speechless by the sight of a dude in shirt stays and sock garters?? 😭

…here, I got a little carried away myself

honestly I think the first time Reader would figure it out is probably the first time you have Maxi alone at either your place or the House on someone’s couch, and you’re just!! trying to get his clothes off bc finally, holy shit have you seen this man? he’s been nothing but a gentleman, careful and aware of your boundaries, and you’ve finally had it up to Here with that and you’re now completely ignoring whatever ridiculous scary movie you put on to straddle his lap and kiss him properly, which turned into him being just as interested in getting your clothes off, from the way his hands are tracing up your stomach under your shirt but stopping carefully short of your chest until he gets the go-ahead.

but no matter how much you tug while trying not to rip anything, his shirt refuses to come up. finally you’re like “babe I swear I can normally do this?” while freaking out a little in your own head because how long has it been that you can’t even get someone’s shirt off properly anymore, what the hell?? when did that change???

and Maxi’s already blushing and flustered bc oh my god he’s liked you for so long and been watching you like a hawk since that first day in the cemetery, god knows how many times he’s been listening in agony under your mattress while you get yourself off without him or had to quickly excuse himself from the prep room or delayed a consultation meeting bc he can’t get you out of his head and his hands won’t cooperate, and finally has to kind of nervously laugh and be like “No, hon, it’s not you. Hang on a sec,” while you just look on in mild confusion, bc last time you checked you were pretty sure you knew how this worked.

Meanwhile Maxi is cussing up a storm internally bc he’d wanted this to go smoother, if he’d known you were going to make a move he would’ve sucked it up and just come over in a henley and some joggers instead of keeping the suit on after work, but he always wants to look nice for you, and now you’re going to see this kind of antiquated thing he does to keep his shit together (mostly physically but it helps mentally for sure) and maybe be totally turned off?? he doesn’t know for sure, you don’t seem that shallow obviously, but there’s still that moment of doubt as he’s kind of fumbling with his fly until you’re like “Here, let me.” because you know you can handle that, at least lmao

And when you first see the shirt stays, he’s watching your face and kind of holding his breath, because the last thing he wants is for you to to see anything about him that could make you hesitate in the slightest, even on a minor level. There’s something about the widening of your eyes that makes him nervous, that he initially reads as confusion or distaste, and he starts kind of trying to play it off: “H-ha, I know, it’s super old fashioned, I just—“

“What the fuck,” you murmur, meeting his eyes at last. “This is so hot?” Holy shit, you knew Maxi was dressier than most, but the fact that he’s been wearing this around you almost the whole time (save the cemetery, obvi) and you had no idea? Just going about his day with what’s basically lingerie under his clothes, and you not even taking this into account when you’ve been mentally undressing him whenever you thought he wasn’t looking at you?

Maxi blinks. “Wait, really?” But he doesn’t have much time to think about it with you running your fingertips over the bands on his thighs, causing him to try to muffle the actual gasp that just left his lips because he was less prepared than he thought for your fingers to be sliding under those to feel the skin there. He’s less prepared for you to follow the band around to his inner thigh and move upwards, his cock now frustratingly hard and definitely twitching in the fabric of his boxers at your hand being so perilously close.

You’re barely able to get the question out against his lips - “Can I touch you?” - before Maxi’s nodding furiously as he kisses you just as fervently, first directly and down your throat to hide just how much his breath is shaking at the thought.

He swears when you cup him first through the soft fabric, it still burns. He’s been thinking about how your hand would fit around him for weeks now, and he doesn’t notice until it’s too late how he moans softly and hitches his hips against your palm. He blushes all the harder, worried now he just looks like a total weirdo and a desperate one at that, but the way you grin as you slide your hand under the elastic of his waistband and grip him properly couldn’t shove the doubt any harder from his mind.

For a blissful period, Maxi’s mind is engrossed in pure static as you slide your spit-slick hand along his shaft, his own hands all over you after he makes a point to remove your shirt - down your back, over your hips, reverently over your chest like it’s a place of worship. You’re softer than he dreamed, and he’s shaking slightly against you as he nips at your pulse, just over your collarbone, anywhere that catches his eye as he tries not to lose himself entirely under the study rhythm you’re subjecting him to.

But jesus, you’re warm, and soft, and here, and whatever soap or scent you’re wearing is what he wants to smell for the rest of time, mixed with the sweat he desperately wants to wring from you as he makes you come every way he can manage until you break down and cry.

When he feels the pressure at the base of his spine threaten to overwhelm him and his hips thrusting a bit more sharply in your hand, he takes your wrist gently in his hand to pause you.

“You okay?” Your eyes are so sweet when you look at him, so wide in their concern. You perfect angel, you could be flaying him open with his own liston knife and he’d still be just as enchanted with you.

“You’re exquisite, Darlin,” he reassures you, kissing the space just beneath your ear and fighting a smile at the shiver it draws from you. “But I want this to be somethin’ a bit more… mutual.” He is absolutely not going to let his first orgasm with you be him coming alone, much less into your hand like some high school senior under the bleachers, jesus christ.

You smile, because of course he’s insisting on this right now, your ridiculous sweetheart. “Yeah?” You stop, but don’t entirely let go of him, still feeling him hot and throbbing slightly against your palm. “You got something in mind, babe?”

“I might,” he says, and you half gasp, half laugh as suddenly he’s flipped you both so you’re lying under him, your back suddenly against the cushions of the couch and your hand trapped beneath your respective hips. “But I’m goin’ to insist on doin’ this properly,” his dark eyes are intense on your face, moving to your lips and back again. “Takin’ my time with you, like you deserve.”

You can’t help but smirk, giving him the slightest squeeze just to watch him hiss through his teeth. “These stay on though.” Your free hand brushes the band of the stay again, and he exhales softly, caught off guard. “Okay?”

“Whatever you want, gorgeous.” And with the way he kisses you like he wants to eat you alive, you know he means it.

[aalbedo]

injured!tartaglia x reader (part 2)

part two of this

request: Hello I absolutely loved your one shot of Tartaglia helping an injured reader sdjgksjfkf if you don't mind I'd like to request a part 2 where reader asks him the story behind that big scar he pointed out? Maybe reader finds HIM injured and returns the favor and asks about his other scars while they treat his wounds?? Ahaha reader's just like "fuck I can't just leave you here to bleed out but don't you dare think this means I care for you or anything" lmao

format: two-parter (again, read part one first)

ship: tartaglia x reader

tags: fluff, reader is the traveler-ish (a completely separate character from aether and lumine, but still the traveler, does that make sense?), author forgets basic wound care halfway into the fic

warnings: blood, mildly graphic depiction of injury, stitches and needles

words: 3027

notes: hey so uhhhhhhhh i kinda went off the rails with this one, i didn't really follow the prompt in some points since uh... the part about the stories behind the scars... i kinda forgot about that... or like... eh you'll see, anyway, - banner still fucked up it will be fixed i prommy

Despite the high number of hilichurl camps, abyss mages, fatui agents, ruin hunters and ruin guards, Lisha was still one of your favorite places to explore, it was full of treasure chests to open, sweet flowers to pick and ore to mine. Plus, the atmosphere managed to still be peaceful, the open fields where the sun would shine uninterrupted for hours and hours on end were your favorite place to sit down and bask in the sunlight.

Your leg was still recovering from the tough hit you had taken a few weeks prior, which meant that you had to take more breaks while adventuring. Not that you would complain, taking breaks, putting some numbing cream on your wound, eating some reinvigorating food and drinking fresh water was just as satisfying as exploring.

After resting for about half an hour, you decided to get up, careful not to put any pressure on your injured leg. You threw your bag over your shoulder and walked north-west, towards the road to the chasm.

In the distance, you started hearing sounds of fighting, and as you got closer to them, you could see a tall figure fighting not one, but two separate ruin hunters, with a bow. It was too far away to see the person’s face, but you had half an idea of who it could be.

Then, out of nowhere, a bright purple flash, and in less than a second the ruin hunters were both on the ground, completely destroyed. Yep, it’s Tartaglia.

You thought about turning away and changing your direction before he could see you. You had already reluctantly thanked him for helping you that day, as well as paying for your medication out of his own pocket, but you still felt like you owed him a favor that you really did not want to fulfill. He was still the guy that almost destroyed Liyue, and made you fight for your life, despite everything.

Until you saw him fall to his knees, and as he turned to face your direction you could see his chest covered in blood.

You acted on instinct, ignoring your brain telling you to leave him alone, that he could tend to his own wounds, and you sprinted towards him. He may be an asshole, but you just want to avoid him, not leave him to die.

He was resting his back on a wall, head thrown back. Even from far away, you could see that he was breathing heavily. That same backpack you had seen on him the day he helped you was now sitting next to him, his left hand already rummaging through it.

His head shot up, he had definitely heard you coming towards him, his eyes widened as you kneeled down right in front of him and got a better look at his condition. You could see a cut crossing his chest, from his right shoulder to the middle of his torso, right over his heart. His grey coat was soaked in blood, as it pooled on the bend of his hips and slid down to the ground.

“So you do care about me.” he broke the silence, struggling to talk through heavy breaths and groans. He was completely out of breath, covered in blood, definitely in pain, and all he could think about was joking.

“I don’t. Just because I hate you, it doesn’t mean I want to see you dead.” You didn’t have time to get mad at him. “Also - I owe you a favor, I guess.” The only thought in your head was to help him, so you did not think twice before quickly unbuttoning his coat and undercoat and moving them out of the way.

You got a look at his chest and through the blood you could see several other scars, most of them looked years old, a few of them looked pretty large, carving his chest and abdomen. You wondered if his entire body looked like this, and why his face didn’t.

“Like what you see?” he joked again, his voice sounded hoarse, strained, very clearly struggling to talk. You sighed, couldn’t he just shut up for a minute?

You turned to your own bag to pull out anything you might need to help him. Potions, numbing cream and even a stitching kit laid next to you. You had bought the kit after that day, and started learning how to stitch wounds.

“No,” you dismissed him again. He whined quietly, you weren’t sure if it was because of your response or the wound.

All of the sudden, you felt… fear? Fear of what? Him passing out? And anger, at the fact that he wasn’t taking the situation as seriously as you were. He could easily die from this wound and all he was doing was making jokes.

You quickly started cleaning the blood with a cloth in one hand, while holding a bottle of antiseptic potion in your left, ready to pour it on top of the cut. You were being quick, passing your hand over his chest as fast as you could, trying to gather all the blood while avoiding the open skin, but there was so much of it that in mere seconds the cloth was soaked and completely useless.

You looked up at him and he was staring at the ground, his eyes completely unfocused. “Childe,” you called him and he squeezed his eyes closed, “try to stay awake.”

“Easy to say,” he muttered. At least he was awake.

You threw away the bloody cloth, and poured the antiseptic potion directly on his scar with no warning. Despite knowing that you were just helping him, a wave of guilt washed over you as you heard him cry out from the pain and throw his head back, wincing again when he hit the wall.

Half a bottle of potion and another clean cloth drenched in blood later, the wound had completely stopped bleeding, and you finally breathed out all the tension you were holding in your body.

His face, and body, were completely pale from the blood loss. His mouth was agape, eyelids half closed - looking at you, he sighed, barely letting any air out. You glared back, but by the way his head was positioned, you couldn’t help but look at his lips, the way they moved slightly every time he breathed out, they seemed so… soft, sweet. You brushed aside a thought that had snaked into your brain. His mouth curled up and he barked a laugh, but he stopped immediately and groaned again. Had he noticed that you were looking?

“Don’t laugh, it’ll hurt you,” you reminded him as you threw away the second blood drenched cloth.

“Sure,” he replied, voice still strained. “Whatever you say.”

You find a third cloth, the only clean one you had left, used some water from your bottle to make it damp and used it to wash your hands.

“Don’t talk either,” you looked at him as you opened a small glass jar containing numbing cream. “What were you thinking, being here alone and fighting two ruin guards?” He opened his mouth. “Don’t answer, you’ll tell me later.”

“I was just collecting some debts when those two attacked me.” He groaned again.

“I said, don’t talk if it hurts.” You made it clear from your tone that you were annoyed at the way that he was acting.

You dipped a couple of fingers into the cream, and hesitated before placing your bare hand on his chest, carefully placing the cream around the wound, so that he would not feel pain when you would be stitching it closed. As you got a better look at the cut, you noticed how the skin had been basically mangled, it looked like it would not be an easy recovery.

“You look like you know what you’re doing,” he pointed out, before groaning again. You were starting to wish you had taped his mouth with something.

“Because I know what I’m doing, I’m not an idiot. And you’re making me regret helping you, just shut up already.”

“Make me.”

Your hand froze over his skin. You moved your eyes back up to him, trying to decipher his expression. Was that an invitation, or just teasing? He hadn’t even tried to put on a smug face, his expression just looked tired and worn out, which made it even harder to decipher.

The longer you looked at him, the weirder it would get, you would have to do something before it got awkward and that thought from earlier slammed back into your head.

You wanted to wish you had run the other way, but the truth was that you were glad you hadn’t. Maybe it was all of the tension you had accumulated while seeing all that blood flow out of him, maybe it was the heavy lidded look he was giving you, but you placed your clean hand on the side of his face, cupping his cheek. His eyes widened, mouth parted ready to say something, but, before he could, your lips were on his.

The kiss was fast, you pulled back almost immediately and averted his gaze right away. You could feel him staring at you as you put your hand back into the jar and picked up some more cream.

“I didn’t think you would actually-” he didn’t finish the sentence.

You quickly caught a glimpse of his expression before focusing on taking care of the wound. You contained a laugh as you saw him look absolutely dumbfounded and flustered, he had seriously been rendered completely speechless by what could barely be considered a kiss. If he hadn’t lost that much blood that day, his cheeks would definitely be red.

Honestly, you couldn’t believe what had happened either. You couldn’t believe you had even done it. You could’ve just laughed it off and kept medicating him in silence. But you were glad that you didn’t.

Neither of you uttered a word for a while, and even though the atmosphere wasn’t explicitly awkward, you wished he would say something. After a thick layer of numbing cream and several minutes of silence, you finally gathered the courage to look back at him. He was clearly pretending to look away, as if he hadn’t spent the entire time looking at you working.

“Is the pain gone? Can I stitch it now?” Your voice came out unexpectedly soft. You touched the skin around the wound, waiting to get a reaction from him.

His head snapped back to face you, and he nodded. “Can’t feel a thing,” he said as he touched his own chest. “I can stitch it though, if you wa- Ah!” He lifted his right arm, the injured one, and immediately stopped mid-air, “fuck- shit, not this,” he almost yelled.

“You ripped a tendon.” You gently took his right arm, putting it back down for him, and looked at his shoulder. “I’ll stitch it, don’t worry - I’ve learned.”

He didn’t say anything, and you took it as permission. You opened the kit you had bought at Bubu pharmacy weeks prior: recurved needle, thread and tweezers. You could feel Tartaglia’s gaze on you as you struggled passing the thread through the needle, but in the end you managed to do it.

As you hovered over the wound, your gaze fell on a large scar, the one that would normally be visible from over his coat on his neck, and it went down over the left side of his body down until his hip. It looked pretty old, but it was still very visible.

“Can I ask you… how did you get that?”

“Mh?”

You pointed at the scar with your pinkie and slightly traced over it, “this scar, what happened?”

He followed your finger with his gaze, and kept his eyes on the scar even as you moved back to the still open wound. “Oh, that?” You passed the needle through the skin and pulled it out on the other side. “I was 14.”

You saw some blood trickle from the cut as you carefully pulled the thread and passed the needle through one more time. By the way he had spoken, you felt like he was going to continue talking, so you didn’t interrupt.

“Uhm, when I was 14, I-” you heard him pass his tongue over his lips, “the Abyss, you know.” You nodded quietly as you passed the needle through a few more times.

“You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” you reassured him, you knew that it was a pretty sensitive topic, or at least you imagined it would be. You stitched a few more loops with ease, getting progressively more comfortable with what you were doing.

“It’s fine, I- I was in-” his voice was starting to shake the slightest bit, but you noticed the change of tone in his voice.

You finally reached the end, and you cut the thread, tying it tightly at the end. You put the needle and the tweezers back into their container.

“I had to fight this… huge- and when-” once you looked up at him, you realized how lost in thought he was, looking at his scar, unable to take his eyes off it, he was probably getting some flashbacks. “I-” his voice cracked, his lower lip trembled ever so slightly, and you could not bear it anymore. Without even thinking about it, you grabbed the side of his face and dragged him in for an actual, proper kiss.

He fell right into it and reciprocated immediately, placing his left hand on the side of your waist. It was sweet, and tender, and you got a better feel of what his lips were like: just as soft as they looked.

You pulled back first once again, and as you got to look at his surprised face, eyebrows raised and everything, your mind started racing. You had just kissed not just a Fatui, not just a Harbinger, but the Harbinger that had tried to kill you, that manipulated you and that nearly destroyed Liyue for the second time. And he was sitting in front of you looking like an idiot.

You couldn’t figure out what you were feeling, but there was something going on deep in your chest, and stomach.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you quickly clarified before he could say anything. “Neither of them do, they were just to shut you up.”

“Were they?” he asked. And just like that, he came full circle back to the false smugness.

You really, really did not want to think about the weird feeling that was growing in your stomach. “Look at what I got from Baizhu.” From your bag, you pulled out a thick strip made out of cotton and a small vial full of Slime concentrate.

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“What do they mean to you?” you bit back, waiting to see if he would face the question himself, or back out like a hypocrite.

“What did you get from Baizhu?”

You both chuckled, and you noticed his bare chest rising and falling back down as he laughed. “He said it’s a new type of bandaging, you use slime concentrate to stick it to the skin.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t love the sound of that, actually.”

“I was skeptical too the first time I tried it, but trust me - it’s much more comfortable.” You heard him sigh in defeat as you already spread some of the slime condensate over the strip, and set down the half empty vial. “It won’t hurt.”

“Do you promise?”

He looked into your eyes with a relaxed expression, you looked right back. “I promise,” you replied with a kind smile, before turning your attention to the strip and stuck it over the wound, carefully placing it so that it would cover the entire cut.

“All done,” you said as you started getting up, but you felt a hand grabbing your arm, another one grabbing the side of your face, and tugging you back down, and before you could realize it your lips were once again on Tartaglia’s.

You couldn’t help but reciprocate the kiss, his lips were still soft, and at that point you felt like you could get used to them. The kiss was exactly as gentle as the one before, you could feel your fluttering in your chest as Tartaglia’s thumb started gently rubbing your cheekbone.

He pulled back first this time, and as you opened your eyes back you could see a wide smile on his face.

“Sending me mixed signals, huh?” you pointed out.

“I told you, I never had anything against you personally,” he said as he put his clothes back on, trying to fix them as much as possible, despite the very clear cut on his chest and the blood covering them completely.

“I’m gonna need some time before I’ll believe that.” You got up and reached down a hand for him to get up. “You’re gonna need to prove it to me.”

He grabbed it with his non-injured hand and stood up beside you. “While you take your time, care to walk me to Bubu pharmacy, so I can buy some of these sticky bandages?” he asked, a wide smile still on his face.

“Sure,” you simply replied, picking up both of your back and tossing them over your shoulder.

You watched him move his injured arm slightly, to figure out how much he could move it. Unsurprisingly, not much.

He hummed. “I’m gonna have to take some time off from duty, hopefully they won’t kill me for it,” he said in a joking manner, but you could sense that he wasn’t kidding about the killing part.

“Well,” as you both started walking back to the harbor, you got an idea, “you could use the time off to show me that you truly don’t hate me.”

“Like what?” You could feel his gaze on you.

“Like, we could go out for dinner,” you suggested, keeping your eyes in front of you. “In a completely neutral way, and then see what happens from there.”

“Sounds good.”

“It’s a plan, then.”

[alelelesimz]

izzy's dag-dag the artist... tag

RULES

Show us a rendition of yourself in your own art! Can be anything! Sims render? Random stick figure? Picrew? Go nuts! (Just be sure to tag the artist if you use someone else's picrew!!!!) Tag the blogs you want to know, and don't be a dick that's it! Also, feel free to answer as vague or in-depth as you want. And if you don't want to answer a question for any reason just don't vibe with it! Skip it if you wanna! Also make sure you tag me and use #dagdagtheartisttag so I can see it!!!!!!!!

thanks for tagging me @almost-spring!!!

QUESTIONS

1.) Do you prefer to be referred to by your name or blog name?

they’re the same lmao

2.) Where are you from?

venezuela!! i live in spain tho

3.) Do you have pets? 👀

no i WISH but i don’t have the time to properly take care of a pet

4.) Tell us about your "dream".

i just wanna have a job that doesn’t completely feel like a drag and enough money to not worry too much honestly lol

5.) Aside from art, what are your hobbies?

videogames, sleep.. that’s it i don’t have much more time 

6. )Does anyone irl know about your blog?

nah. however almost everyone in my life knows i play the sims for some reason

7.)Do you know anyone from your blog irl?

no but that’d be nice!

8.) What are some fun facts about you?

 I DONT KNOW ive been thinking about this and jesus christ

9.) What's your day job?

waitress 🙃

10.) Do you have a celebrity look alike?

no one that i’m aware

11.) What's your aesthetic?

grown up emo with oversized clothes only. i’ve been told i dress like a video game character or “kinda punk” which are both correct

12.) What kind of artist are you?

the one that doesn’t do as much art as they should

13.) How did you get into your form of art?

if we’re talking editing in general i started messing around with photoshop when i was 13 i think, but just sims edits idk i just stumbled upon simblr while looking for cc and realized people were doing cool stuff on here so i started doing the same

14.) What do you watch/listen/read/anything else while you create?

sometimes music, but most of the time either podcasts or whatever is on my watch later playlist on youtube

15.) What is your favorite of your own creations so far? 

i think this one and this one turned out really nice

16.) How would you describe your art style?

eclectic?? i just do whatever haha

17.) What is more satisfying to you coloring or outlining? 

coloring!

18.) What meme would you use to describe yourself?

everyone i know irl has send me every miyazaki meme cause they know how much i relate

19.) What character from any media form do you most identify with?

every time i see a question like this i can only think of bojack horseman which is a TERRIBLE thing but it is what it is!!

20.) If you were on the run, what would you change your name to?

uhh just anything that is not in spanish i guess

21.) Have you ever or do you want to change blog names?

yea my blog name sucks lmao

22.) God forbid Tumblr decides to pull a MySpace and lets us have page songs, what song would you choose? 

none ugh

23.) Oh yeah, I'm still on the MySpace train and I'm starting discourse! Who's your top 8?

idk? the mutuals i actually interact with 

24.) Did you understand those references or did you have to look them up? (I'm fully away I'm ancient, but are you?)

dude

25.) One last question; why are you like that?

good fucking question!!

Dag dag?

Now tag tag!!!

i’ll tag @aniraklova @ladykendalsims @void-imp @madeofcc @hufflepuff-sim​ and uhh whoever wants to do it :p (also feel free to ignore it!)

[takahero]

some descriptions of Basta in Inkheart if you’re interested!! spoiler warning just to be on the safe side, in case u haven’t read it. and my unsolicited commentary here and there

“‘Naturally I recognised them at once. Capricorn had sent his best men. Even Basta was with them.’” — pg.99

“Rasping cat’s-tongue voice” pg.125

“(Basta’s face) was thin, sharply angular, with close-set eyes…Basta was not a tall man, and his shoulders were almost as narrow as a boy’s, but Meggie held her breath when he took a step towards her…He had an aura of fury about him, or something keen and biting—” pg.126

“Only Basta wore a snow-white shirt, just as Dustfinger had said, with a red flower in the buttonhole of his jacket, a red flower like a warning.” pg.131

“He caught her eye, and with a twisted smile kissed the blade of his knife.” — pg.173 (I JUST HAD TO ADD THIS)

“‘Oh, Basta can’t write,’ replied Capricorn calmly. ‘None of my men can either read or write. I’ve forbidden them to learn.’” — pg.176 (literacy rights for Basta 2k21)

“She could see the trepidation even on Basta’s face, although he was doing his best to hide it by assuming a particularly bored expression.” — pg.185

“‘Abduction!’ Basta savoured the word. ‘Sounds good to me. Really good.’” — pg.192 (ok but if u read it a certain way. unofficial evidence that basta would enjoy reading if he could LMAO)

“‘Where’s our luggage?’ she asked.

“Dustfinger looked at her with amusement. ‘I expect Basta’s divided it out among Capricorn’s maids. He likes to ingratiate himself with them.’” — pg.213 LMAOOOOOOO OH MY GOD

“Basta was still standing in the road. His face was sharply outlined when he lit a cigarette with a lighter.” — pg.215

“And he bent down to cut through the leather thong that Basta wore around his neck. It had a little bag tied with a red drawstring hanging from it.” — pg. 231

“‘Ah, Basta!’ Fenoglio smiled. Each of his separate wrinkles expressed self-satisfaction. ‘One of the best villains I ever thought up. A rabid dog, but not half as bad as my other dark hero, Capricorn. Basta would let his heart be torn out for Capricorn, but his master is a stranger to such loyalty.’” — pg.264

“‘You know, if you were to ask me which of those two I was prouder of, Basta or Capricorn, I couldn’t tell you! Even though some critics said they were just too nasty!’” — pg.265

“Basta emphasised the word, putting his foxy face so close to Meggie’s she could see herself reflected in his eyes.” — pg.301

“‘You’ll do no such thing!’ he spat at Flatnose, as the grey cat disappeared under the wardrobe. ‘Killing cats is unlucky. How often do I have to tell you?’” — pg.303 (friendly reminder that the last time he appeared, he kicked a dog in the ribs 😐)

“Basta was walking just behind her, and she heard him quietly cursing the rain.” — pg.304 (irrelevant but i kind of hc basta to like the rain, since it would dampen dustfinger’s showbiz LMAO)

“Basta’s eyes always narrowed when he smiled.” — pg.305

“‘You wear long sleeves,’ Fenoglio continued very slowly, as if giving Basta time to take in every single word, ‘because your master likes playing with fire. You burned both arms right up to the shoulders when you obeyed his orders and set fire to the house of a man who had dared to refuse his daughter to Capricorn. Ever since then, someone else has laid the fire, and you confine yourself to playing games with knives.’” — pg.308

“‘Oh, I know all about you, Basta,’ he said. ‘I know you’d give your life for Capricorn any day, and you’re always hungry for his praise. I know you were younger than Meggie when his men picked you up, and ever since you’ve loved him like a father. But shall I tell you something? Capricorn thinks you’re stupid, and despises you for it. He despises you all, his devoted black-clad sons, although it’s his own doing that you’re still so ignorant. And he wouldn’t hesitate to set the police on to any one of you if it was to his advantage. Are you quite clear about that?’” — pg.308 (FENOGLIO…..RUTHLESS)

“Basta winked at Meggie.” — pg.310 (wink 1)

“Every cruel deed with which he had ever credited Basta was probably going through his head. Basta relished the fear on his face for a few delicious minutes.” — pg.312

“Basta’s car had not been in the car park at all since they’d come here. It was unusual for it to be gone so long, because Basta didn’t like to be away from the village for any length of time.” — pg.318 basta is a homebody guys

“‘Save your tongue for later, scribbler!” Basta interrupted. ‘I don’t like whispering.’” — pg.324

“Almost all the women in the village kept away from Basta, but he didn’t keep away from them.” — pg.337

“‘Take him, for instance,’ he said, pointing to Basta. ‘I always knew he was a very unhappy boy before you picked him up. As it says in another very fine book, it’s terribly easy to persuade children that they are worthless. Basta was convinced of it. Not that you taught him any better, oh no! Why would you? But suddenly here was someone to whom he could devote himself, someone who told him what to do — he’d found a god, Capricorn, and if you treated him badly, well, who says that all gods are kindly? Most of them are stern and cruel, wouldn’t you agree? I didn’t write all this in the book. I knew it, that was enough.’” — pg.345 (this is really the part that made my stance toward basta change. like PHEW. that’s a lot to unpack)

“Basta was notorious for his silent tread.” — pg.363

“Basta’s breath smelled of mint, fresh and sharp. Apparently a girl he’d once wanted to kiss had told him he had bad breath. The girl had regretted it, but ever since then Basta chewed peppermint leaves from morning to night.” — pg.364

“He whistled softly through his teeth, then held the book close to Meggie’s face.”— pg.374 (i was rendered speechless)

“Basta’s lips quivered with annoyance, but he bit back his reply and, without a word, put his hand under the black cloth.” — pg.377 (ugh I loved this. like we know he worships capricorn like a dog, but earlier fenoglio flat out told him capricorn couldn’t care less about what happened to him. more than that, capricorn asked basta to bring meggie and fenoglio — prisoners — into his home. later dustfinger says that basta would’ve slept on the threshold of capricorn’s room if he could but none of the men sleep there. so with all of this fresh in his mind, you can imagine him feeling quite hurt and betrayed. UGH I wish he had a greater arc surrounding capricorn…like even if we saw a few hints that his loyalty was starting to show cracks…idk what his arc is in inkspell so maybe I’ll sit tight for that)

“He was in a hurry to get back to the light of day, away from the dead and their ghosts. His hand shook as he hung his lantern on a book and opened the grating over the first cell.” — pg.409

“Dustfinger was always surprised to find how easily you could scare the man with a few words.” — pg.409 LMAOOOOO

“‘That notion of burning us isn’t a very new idea, Basta, but then you were never fond of new ideas.’” — pg.422

“His teeth were almost as white as his shirt.” — pg.442

“Meggie saw from his face that everything in him felt revulsion, but he came closer and took the creature. He held the scaly body well away from him as it wound and twisted in the air.

“‘As you see, Basta doesn’t care for my snakes!’ said the Magpie, with a smile. ‘He never did, not that that means much. As far as I know Basta doesn’t like anything but his knife. He also believed that snakes bring bad luck, which of course is pure nonsense.’ Mortola handed Basta the second snake. Meggie saw the viper’s tiny poison fangs when it opened its mouth. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for Basta.” — pg.446

“‘Basta likes to use snakes to scare women who reject his advances. It didn’t work with Resa. How did it go exactly — didn’t she finally put the snake outside your door, Basta?’” — pg.446 (10/10 resa & snake well-deserved)

“Basta did not want neighbours. Indeed, he wanted no other company but Capricorn’s. Dustfinger knew Basta would have slept on the threshold of Capricorn’s room if he had been allowed to, but none of the men lived in the main house.” — pg.478

“Basta was probably the only man in Capricorn’s village who locked his front door.” — pg.480

“They said in the village that whenever Capricorn had a house set on fire Basta took away a brick or stone, even though he feared fire at other times, and clearly that story was true.” — pg.480

“(Everything in Basta’s house was scrubbed clean, as spotless as his snow-white shirt.)” — pg.481

“Once or twice, footsteps approached, but each time they passed by the house. What a good thing Basta had no friends.” — pg.482

“Basta was not in a good way. Whenever they looked at him they saw his hands clinging to the bars, knuckles white under his sun-tanned skin.” — pg.503 (BASTA’S SUNTANNED?!?!)

“Basta in particular was the object of enough scorn and derision for ten men, and from his failure to react at all one could only guess at the depths of his despair.” — pg.503

“For the fraction of a second life came back into Basta as his former lord and master stopped by the bars; he raised his head, his eyes pleading silently, like a dog begging for forgiveness…Basta only bowed his head and stared at the floor. Elinor thought he looked like an oyster with the flesh and life sucked out of it.” — pg.504 (i honestly still can’t wrap my head around his behaviour in this chap. i mean yes, the gladiator-style death sentence looming over his head can’t be understated. but i think for me it was how rapidly his spirits deteriorated from screaming for help in the cell to becoming a husk of a man before he even saw capricorn again? how?? was it all because of dustfinger spooking him so bad in the crypt?? 🤔🤔)

[clusterfuck-misc]

ANON ASKS:

I hope you are having a good day :3

Yandere reader cutting Hawks wings because he tried to escape.

My first yandere reader request, oooo.

Yandere Reader x Kidnapped Keigo Takami

This is in HC format.

The reader is gender neutral.

Content warning: Kidnapping, caging, pet-like treatment, usage of the pet name “angel,” force feeding, hair pulling, a machete, how the fuck are you supposed to warn the next part, wing cutting? Just read the request LMAO, blood, slight gore, traumatized behavior.

ARCHIVED POST. @clusterfuck-yandere IS MY NEW BLOG.

PLEASE DO NOT SEND REQUESTS ON THIS BLOG.

— Kidnapping him was harder than you thought.

You knew it was going to be difficult, but you your calculations on just how difficult were slightly off.

It’s not like you were underestimating him or anything; the guy’s the #2 Hero in the entire world, after all.

It’s just that…

His feathers were quite the hassle to deal with.

Slicing your face and creating stinging cuts, attempting to poke you in the eyes so he can get away, even trying to saw your wrist off at one point.

And it didn’t help that he kept trying to fly away.

There were multiple times where your iron grip was on his ankle while you held onto a street lamp for dear life.

You could tell he was beginning to get tired, though.

“I… I appreciate the perseverance,” he panted out while flapping his wings as hard as he could, “but… I really need to go..!!”

Of course Pro Hero Hawks had it in him to joke around during his own kidnapping.

Eventually, he started to get so tired, he could barely keep himself in the air. You took advantage of this and grabbed him by his wings.

“OW, fu… watch the wings!!”

The wrestling match you two had on the alleyway grounds lasted about 5 to 6 minutes.

It was euphoric watching the panic in his eyes grow as he realized you were determined.

You had his wings pinned to his back by your body weight (which was impressive, with how much he was squirming and bucking his body) as you picked up a rag and an unlabeled bottle. All he could hear was the cap being popped, but he seemed to have a general idea of what was about to happen.

“Wait…” he pleaded, thrashing around from underneath you like never before. “Wait, c’mon, let me— don’t— HELP!! HELP!! Sh… HELP—!!”

You were quick to silence him with the rag.

His fearful screams could still be heard through the piece of cloth — albeit a little muffled — and it was getting harder to hold him down, but it didn’t take long for his body to start relaxing and his eyes to flutter shut.

The chemicals were quick to render him unconscious.

A tired sigh left your lips while you leaned back to look at your work. Your new captive’s face looked peaceful while sleeping, and you couldn’t help but stroke his cheek.

Someone had to of heard all of that struggle; there was no doubt about it.

You decided to work quickly to load him up into the trash bin (which you had rolled into the alley beforehand) and get him home.

The added weight made it a bit harder to wheel him down the street, not to mention your limbs were sore and your cuts were bleeding.

But it was all worth it.

You caught your little songbird.

— Since he woke up, he’s been snarky.

It was honestly amusing that he had the energy for it.

“What, am I a parrot now?”

“You really think you can keep me in a cage? Oh, please.”

“I’m not some little house bird, you know.”

Your little songbird seemed to have a lot to say.

His eyes looked unamused, almost like he was impassive about the entire situation. He was pretty laidback for someone in a cage that was barely big enough for him.

You weren’t complaining, though.

His current relaxed state was way more preferable than the trouble he gave you the night before.

But he was under the impression that he was going to get out of there.

“Can we wrap this up? I’m kind of a busy guy, with the whole hero thing.”

“Treat me nicely and maybe I’ll go easy on you when I escape.”

“Just get your ransom note out and get it over with. I’m bored.”

Ah.

He thought he was being held hostage.

That explains everything.

“Hostage?” You couldn’t help but chuckle with a quirked brow. “Angel, no matter how much they offer me, I would never let you go.”

His brows furrowed at your words. He sat up more properly so he could cling onto the door of the cage.

“What do you mean by that..?”

Oh, my.

He really didn’t know what was going on here.

“You’re mine,” you softly answered, putting your hands on top of his (granted, it was a bit hard through the bars of the cage). “I caught you for myself, angel!”

There was a look of horror that flashed across his face.

It was then that he realized the situation.

You really were keeping him here like a pet bird.

What kind of a sick fuck does that..?

— He’s kept in the cage at all times.

Since you prepared everything beforehand, you already had one of those big dog crates in your home.

Along with that, you got him a food bowl and a water bowl.

A dog mat was also purchased so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable in there.

It felt wrong to get your little bird things that are meant for dogs, but it would have to do.

Those wings were massive, after all.

You wouldn’t dare open the cage in fear of him flying away.

As much as you wanted to love on your songbird, you would be upset if he managed to escape.

So you would feed him through the bars of the cage.

The only problem, however, is that he never ate the food you provided him.

He was a stubborn little shit, sometimes.

That’s what caused you to begin force feeding him.

You would pull him towards you by the hair and shove the food into his mouth.

“Eat it,” you commanded.

If he still wouldn’t, you would hold his mouth and nose closed until he was forced to swallow.

“There… now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He would probably try to spit at you.

At night, you can hear him trying to escape by busting the door open.

Clanking noises and curses echo through the halls.

It’s a good think you decided to put a proper lock on the door instead of those measly sliding ones.

You’ll check up on him to see that he’s managed to flip the cage on its side.

“C’mon, angel,” you’d lightly scold him. “That’s not going to help either one of us.”

He’s still ramming himself into the bars of the cage as you push it right side up again.

“Stop that,” you’ll warn.

“Oh, sorry. Does it bother you?”

You nod your head with a look of irritation.

He’ll then continue to do it even harder, making setting the cage back upright even harder.

— His wings still prove to be a problem.

More specifically, his feathers.

Because of the bars of the cage, he can easily slip his feathers out and use them as projectiles against you.

If you walk into the room, it’s guaranteed you’re getting assaulted by a hoard of feathers.

Your body is littered with gashes and cuts because of it.

It’s extremely irritating to deal with, especially since he has lots to spare.

You’ve caught him trying to pick the lock with them, too.

“Hey, cut it out,” you’ll warn him as you kick the cage.

“Hey, Burn in hell,” he’ll respond, desperately trying to free himself.

Not even a weighted blanket over his cage is enough to get him to stop.

With enough feathers, he can lift the fabric and continue futzing with the lock.

Fed up with it, you began to worry about him actually managing to escape.

So, you took a trip to the hardware store to pick something up as a precaution…

— Sure enough, he manages to get out.

Lord knows how.

Maybe he was successful in his lock picking, or ramming into the cage door, or even sawing the bars off.

That didn’t really matter in the moment.

Because, when you opened the door of his room, he shoved you out of the way and took flight.

“See ya, sick freak,” he spat at you.

The thought of freedom excited him as he flew towards the nearest exit.

He was in that cage for god knows how long.

He was finally going to see the sky again.

See the hero agency again.

See all of his fans and assure them he was alright.

But then he felt you rip him out of the air by his wings.

You managed to jump onto the table, grab ahold of him, and pull him towards the ground.

“NO,” he shouted. “LET ME GO!!”

Much like you did when you initially captured him, you pinned his wings under your body weight. You could barely keep on top of him as he wrestled and flailed around under you.

“I’m not letting you go that easy,” you growled while holding a wing with one hand. “You did this to yourself, angel!!”

He then felt something hack into the base of his wings.

A drawn out scream of pain tore through your captive’s throat as you made work with your machete.

“N-NO— NO, STOP!! STO— AH— IT HURTS!!”

As much as it broke your heart to hear his shrieks, you did your best to ignore them and finished hacking off the first wing.

Instead you tried to focus on the sound of the machete crunching through his bones.

THWACK. THWACK. THWACK.

Blood coated your frontside from the violent swings and newly made oozing stump. The dead mass of damaged wing dropped to the floor as you began to work on the other wing.

“This’ll teach you,” a grunt interrupted your sentence, “to behave, angel! It didn’t have to be like this!!”

He sobbed and twitched when he felt his other wing being ripped from his back. “P… PLEASE— pleasepleasepl… n-no more… nomorenomorenomore, I’ll— I’LL BE GOOD. I’LL BE GOOD, I’LL—”

It was too late.

His other wing was completely severed.

A huff came from your lips as you took in the scene before you.

Blood was splattered on the floor and ceiling.

A mess of feathers was everywhere from how you violently handled them.

Your poor captive was trembling and trying to cave in on himself.

A sense of peace washed over your body.

“There there,” you cooed, getting off of him so you could pull him into a hug. “It’s over, angel. It’s over…”

He could only quietly mutter unintelligible sentences. “G-get— don’t— no… nononono… I don’t… I— d-don’t…”

The broken tone of his voice clenched your heart.

“I know,” you sighed. “But I had to do it. For us.”

All he could do was silently cry as he stared at his dead wings on the floor.

— You made sure he was all cleaned up afterwards.

Without his wings (and struggling), it was easy to carry him to the bathroom and treat his bleeding stubs.

You made sure they were properly cleaned out and bandaged before lovingly stroking his cheeks.

“See? All better.”

He only stared at you with empty eyes.

After about 6 hours of cuddling into him, you decided it was time to give him a bath.

You weren’t able to give him one since you brought him home, but now you were sure he wouldn’t give you much of a fight.

So, you took him back to the bathroom and started the water.

It was refreshing when he obediently curled up on the floor while you filled up the tub.

The bath went smoothly as you undressed him, got him in the water, and washed his hair and body.

His blank eyes stared at the floating suds and he didn’t even flinch when you dunked water on him to wash his hair out.

Getting him back out of the tub was easy as well and he stayed still for you to dry him off.

The last step was to change out his bandages and dress him up in some new clothes.

And, of course, he didn’t make anything hard for you.

You estimated that the entire process took about 10 minutes flat.

His compliance made you very happy.

— He was very well behaved after that.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think you kidnapped the wrong Pro Hero.

No more snarky comments.

No more attitude or struggling.

And, most importantly, no more getting pelted by those damn feathers.

He quieted down a lot when you cut his wings off.

Because of that, you gave him more freedoms around your home.

He was allowed out of the cage and was only locked up when you had to go somewhere.

He could eat at the dinner table like a normal human being instead of eating out of a bowl.

You even let him watch TV…

… With your supervision.

That’s because you made the mistake of letting him switch to the news channel.

“In other news, there has been no updates on the mysterious disappearance of the Pro Hero known as Hawks. Officials say—”

You immediately snatched the remote from him and switched the channel.

Tears formed in your little songbird’s eyes as he stared blankly at the TV.

The picture the news channel used showed him with his wings.

Something he doesn’t have anymore.

He began to violently sob as you pulled him to your chest.

“Sh, sh, sh… c’mon, angel. Don’t cry.”

Your words only caused him to sob harder.

— There are a few instances where he still misbehaves.

Even if you scared him into compliance after cutting his wings off, you’re still a sick freak to him.

Once in a blue moon, he’ll still hit your hands away when you try to touch him.

Or glare at you with malice when you call him pet names.

Or spit at your face when you get too close for his personal comfort.

It’s uncommon, which is why you have to recover from shock when he does it.

“What was that for, angel?”

You can visibly see him tense up at your low tone.

Sometimes, he immediately knocks it off when you give him a warning.

He’ll begrudgingly lean into your touch, or look down at the ground with shame, or give a quick apology for spitting on you.

But sometimes, he’ll continue even after you warn him.

“Get away from me.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I stand by what I did.”

This type of behavior is an easy fix, though.

All you have to do is get the machete out.

You don’t even need to say anything. Just the sight of it is enough for him to freeze from terror.

The way his eyes widen as his body trembles makes you fight back a sick grin.

It won’t take long for him to collapse to the floor with jumbled apologies.

“I-I-I’m sorry!! I’m sorry!! Please, I… I’ll be good! I won’t do it again!!”

It’s like music to your ears when he begs.

You never have to actually use it on him. He quickly sets himself straight and runs into your arms with tears streaming down his face.

If you decide he was being too snarky with you, you’ll stare at the blade with a look of contemplation.

“I don’t know, angel… you really hurt my feelings…”

His eyes will widen even more and he’ll clutch you like a lifeline.

“I-I-I’m really sorry!! Oh— oh, god… I didn’t mean it!! I really didn’t!! Please— pleasepleasepleaseplease— anything but that!! I’ll do anything!!”

You’ll smile softly at his obedience.

“Good birdie.”

He might not be as vocal as he once was, but you still adore him very much.

He is still your little song bird, after all.