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#i wanna say the left is too dark but the eye is being drawn where i want it to be rn & lightening it would draw too much attention

multi-fandomlovers-world · 10 months

Text

Price, Ghost, And Gaz React To Their To A Sketch Their S/O Drew Of Them

TW: Fluff, SFW, All The Love

Not my gifs--------All supported by Tumblr

Requested By: Anon

Reblogs And Comments Are Highly Appreciated!!! :)

John "Captain" Price:

John had gotten out of the shower and walked into the bedroom that you and John shared. As you put on his grey sweatpants, he saw your sketchbook out on the dresser and it was left open with a sketch of him, sleeping. He picked up to get a better look at it and smiled softly. You sketched him perfectly. The settle details that you drew along his chest hair and the way his necklace dangled along his chest. You drew his dark brown hair messy like it always was in the morning that you loved so much. "Hey baby? What do you want to do for -oh you found my sketch of you", You said, as you walked into the bedroom, where John was. "When did you draw this?", John asked, as he looked over at you. "Uhm...I-I drew it the other day when you arrived home. You looked so peaceful and happy. I wanted to admire what I saw and you were perfect just laying there", you said, looking up at John who smiled at you. "Well, I have to say, this is a beautiful drawing. Could be your muse,yeah?",John said, as he turned towards you and chuckled. "I mean, you could me my muse. Don't worry you don't have to leave your shirt off...unless you want to", You said, smiling, biting your lip and running your hands over his shirtless torso. "Mm love, I'll be your muse anytime. Oh! Also, do you wanna do takeout for dinner? We can order from that Chinese place we love or I can cook something up here", John said, pecking your neck softly then traveling up to your lips, kissing you gently as he held onto your hips. You smiled, your hands holding the sides of his face and kissed him back. "We don't have a bunch of food so we'll have to go grocery shopping tomorrow so Chinese sounds good", you said, wrapping your arms around him. "Sounds good to me. Let's order love", John said, as he put your sketchbook back down on the dresser and followed you out into the living room. You draw him a lot now and he loves seeing your drawing.

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

Simon was in the living room of the apartment that you two shared, looking for his necklace. He turned and saw your sketchbook laid out on a page where you had drawn him. Simon looked at it and picked it up. He saw how well you drew, even the minor details. He noticed how well you took the time to draw him, from the way his hair was, his eyes and his clothes. "Hey baby, did you find your-oh you found my sketch of you", you said, looking up at him. "When did you draw this?", Simon said, still looking at the sketch then looking down at you. "Remember when I came down to base to visit you because you couldn't come home yet due to the mission being on hold? When we were in your quarters, I could help but draw you sitting there. You looked so peaceful. I can get rid of it if you want me to, I don't want to make you uncomfortable", you said, looking down. Simon put the sketch book back down on the table, lifted your chin up so you could look at him and kissed you passionately. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him back, causing him to hum softly. "No, I don't want you to get rid of it and you didn't make me uncomfortable at all, lovie. Maybe you could keep it like a personal collection?", Simon said, giving you a soft smile. "Ok then. I'll keep it in my personal collection, then. You wouldn't mind if I keep drawing you? I'll keep them hidden", You said, keeping your eyes on him. "I won't mind at all, lovie. Also, have you seen my necklace? I haven't seen it", Simon said, looking around the room until he saw that you pulled his necklace out from the dresser. "Oh that's where it was. Thank you", Simon said, putting his necklace back on and letting it dangle from his chest. "Your welcome, Si. Wanna come cuddle with me for a while?", You said. "Yes, I'd love to do that", Simon said, as you took his hand and guided him to the bedroom where you two then laid down. He smiled as he was close to his body. Lowkey, he loved the drawing that you did of him and makes him love you even more.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Kyle was going through some paperwork in the office of the home that you two shared. As he got up, he saw your sketchbook laid out and opened to a sketch of him. You took your time with the details. Kyle always admired your sketches that you did. "Hey baby, you do-oh..you found my sketch of you", you said,looking up at him. "Princes, when did you draw this?", Kyle asked, looking back at you. "You remember that small trip that we took a few weeks ago when we went to the beach? I couldn't help but to draw you. You looked so happy and relieved. You're quite beautiful to draw, baby", you said, and gave him a small smile. "Well, this is a lovely picture. Maybe I'll let you sketch me more often, yeah? I can take my shirt off for you", Kyle said, biting his lip, while smiling at you. "I'd love to sketch you more, but you taking off your shirt will become a distraction", You said, as you wrapped your arms around him and felt his hands grab your waist. "But you love when I distract you. Especially when I do this", Kyle said, he kissed you passionately. Your hands traveled to touch the back of his hair before you pulled away for a second. "Mm that is a very good distraction, baby. But I need to-", you said, before getting cut off again but Kyle's lips. You kissed him back as he held onto you tightly before pulling away from your lips again. "Don't get rid of that sketch. It's really good and would it be ok If I kept it?", Kyle said. "Of course you can keep it. Oh hey, what do you want to do for lunch? I'm starving", you said still having yourself wrapped around him. "Hmm, I can grill up some hamburgers on the grill. You ok with that?", Kyle asked, while giving you a soft smile. You nodded before kissing his cheek and leaving the room to go help get everything. He took one last look at the sketch. He knew he found the love of his life and loved you even more.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Taglist: @andreas-river @dressycobra7 @deadbranch @kiamewrites

#cod mw2 #mwii #cod mw2 x reader #mw2 imagine #mw2 x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #cod x you #simon ghost riley #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare

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angelxd-3303 · 1 year

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We’re there ever times when taking care of Luigi was to much for Mario?

As much as Pauline hated to say it, she expected some kind of blow up. Since the boys had shown up sick as dogs, she'd nursed them back to health, and they had hesitantly agreed to stay. Mario still shot her distrustful glares, and daily reminded her that if she said a word about them they'd leave. Nevertheless, he was slowly starting to relax.

His brother's trust in Pauline certainly seemed to help; Luigi quickly latched onto her. She had to admit, the little guy was really growing on her. Pauline had never thought of having kids; far too busy putting herself through school and climbing up the figurative ladder to get where she was. Being greeted by a bright smile and a tight hug every morning, however, stirred something deep within Pauline, and more and more she began to wonder how she ever got on without them.

Mario was far more reserved, but she counted each approving nod and barely-there smile as a victory. Baby steps.

Pauline couldn't even say how it happened. She had left the apartment to go shopping. All she knew is that she came home to a silence that unnerved her. Did they get spooked and leave?! She called for the boys, praying that they were still there. Finally, a quiet sob drew her into the living room.

Standing beside the couch was Luigi. The boy had his back to her, but she immediately knew something was wrong. His arms were plastered to his sides, small hands drawn into fists. He was shaking, and turned a tear stained face to Pauline as she approached. Immediately setting the bags down, Pauline was quick to cup his face in her hands.

"What happened, sweetheart?! Are you ok? Where is Mario?" At this, Luigi only cried louder. Pauline sighed, pulling him into her arms. Luigi might have just turned sixteen, but he was still very much an emotional child.

"I j- I just wanna help!" He whimpered, squeezing her tight. Pauline sat down on the couch, letting the boy cuddle into her side.

"I know, baby. It's ok. It'll be ok. What happened?" Luigi wiped his eyes, shaking his head.

"It's ok. I can…I can handle it." Pauline frowned slightly, but didn't push. Even with Luigi, she had to be careful. Especially when he was like this. Instead, she held him. As he slowly settled down, Luigi let Pauline rub his back soothingly. After a few minutes, he stood. Clearly still upset, the younger brother rubbed his arm sheepishly.

"I…I'm gonna go to our room. If that's ok." Pauline gave him an understanding nod, watching him shuffle out with no small amount of concern. She'd never seen the boys fight, what on earth happened?!

She turned to the balcony, where the slumped figure of Mario drew her attention. She stood, then hesitated. If she didn't get an answer from Luigi, what chance did she have with Mario?

Nevertheless, she continued. She announced her presence with a light tap on the glass door before sliding it open. Mario still flinched, furiously wiping his eyes as Pauline sat down on a chair nearby. Even after a few weeks of being there, the older boy still looked exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes made Pauline wonder if he was sleeping at all…

They sat in silence, Mario stubbornly keeping his eyes on the skyscrapers that surrounded them.

"Everything ok?" Pauline inquired gently. Mario scoffed.

"Yeah, peachy." He replied tartly. Then, he sighed. His gaze softened. After all this time, it still filled Pauline's heart with pain to see how much older Mario looked than he actually was.

"Luigi wants to get a job. To help out, I guess. I dunno, I think I just flew off the handle. I just…" He buried his face in his hands, letting out a shaky breath.

"I know the cops are still looking for us, and I'm just…" He trailed off, as if afraid to admit what was so obvious.

"You're scared, and that's ok." Mario's head snapped to look at her, as if bewildered. Pauline offered a gentle smile, hoping it hid the sorrow she felt for the boy. If she'd learned anything about Mario, it was that he hated to be pitied. It seemed to work, and he stared at her as if she'd opened up the wisdom of the universe to him.

"It's…ok? No, but I can't be scared! I've always had to be brave for Luigi, it's my job to protect him!" Pauline sighed, scooting a bit closer.

"Being brave doesn't mean you're not afraid, dear." She explained. "Being brave means doing what must be done even though you're scared, and that's what you've been doing."

"Mario, you are by far the bravest kid I've ever met, but you're still a kid. The decisions you've made, you've made them to protect your brother. So yeah, it's ok, and even understandable to be afraid."

Mario said nothing, turning back towards the setting sun. His eyes welled up with tears, and a choked sob left him. He clamped a hand over his mouth, desperately fighting the pain.

"Why…w-why is it so hard?" He finally rasped. Pauline cooed softly, scooting even closer to wrap an arm around his shoulders. They were shaking, and Pauline rested her head against his light brown hair. Mario hunched forward, curling in on himself as he finally let out a breathless sob. Pauline pulled him into her arms, and for once he didn't pull away. Instead, his arm came up, fist clutching the sleeve of her sweater.

"It's hard because you were never supposed to have to make the decisions you did. Your parents let you down, Mario, and you're doing the best you can. Like I said, though, you're still a kid yourself. You were never meant to raise your brother. Look at me, darling." Mario lifted his head, the weariness of those light blue eyes making Pauline tear up herself.

"You are doing the absolute best you can, and that's all anyone can ask of you. Mario, you don't have to do this alone anymore. I'm here to help. Please let me help." The boy blinked at her, more tears streaming down. Then, he surprised her.

He practically collapsed in her arms, arms around her in a death grip as he wailed into her shirt. Almost four years of pain and fear reared its ugly head in the form of heaving sobs and gasps for breath. Through it all, Pauline whispered soothingly to him, rubbing his back. She stared up at the sky, watching the sun go down as Mario cried himself to exhaustion. Finally, the waterworks slowed to the occasional hiccup, but Mario kept his grip on her just as firm. He rested his head on her shoulder, letting the woman run her fingers through his hair. It seemed to calm him, and the tears finally stopped.

Pulling away, Mario flushed as Pauline wiped his eyes. He didn't seem to want to let go, and Pauline wasn't about to push him off.

"I'm…I'm sorry…" Pauline shook her head.

"No. No, sweetheart. It's ok. I understand, believe me, I'm actually surprised it took this long for you to break down. You've been under so much stress, it'd tear down the best of us." Mario only sighed tiredly.

"I can't lose him."

"And you won't. Whatever happens, I'll be here to help you both." She promised, and for once it seemed as though he believed her. Pauline pulled him into another hug, giving a tearful chuckle as he sniffled.

"Well, I dunno about you, but I do not feel like cooking after all that. How about we order in? Whatever you'd like." Mario looked sheepish, then those eyes flitted up to her shyly.

"Maybe…maybe that pizza joint we got last time?" He inquired, as if Pauline would ever bring herself to say no. As it was, she smiled. She helped him up, and the two walked back into the apartment as the sky grew dark.

"Sure thing, dear. You guys like peppers on your pizza, right?"

Later, they'd coax Luigi out. They'd discuss the matter calmly, and Luigi would decide to wait until he was eighteen. That way, he couldn't be snatched up by cps if they found him.

Later, over steaming Brooklyn pizzas, Pauline would reflect on the circumstances. She'd never particularly asked for children, but hey!

What on earth would she do without them?

#mario #luigi #pauline Nintendo #my au #parental abandonment tw #fic drabble #hes so tired #Pauline just wants to be a good Mama

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rowdyhughesy · 1 year

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Limbs Intertwined - Luca Fantilli

“ Bedsheets, no clothes. Touch me like nobody else does. Lovely to just lay here with you. You're kinda cute and I would say all of this. But I don't wanna ruin the moment “

- ceilings, lizzy mcalpine

The curtains are drawn, lightly swaying from the breeze that’s let in by your open window. Arm gone numb from the body laying on top of yours but you don’t have it in you to move him.

Soft exhales fanning the exposed skin of your collarbone and dirty blonde hair tickling your nose. Moving your gaze from your ceiling and the glow in the dark stars the both of you put on when you were 15. You look down at the sleeping boy. Counting the faint freckles dusted across his tan nose and cheeks from the summer sun. Relishing in the feeling of warm and sticky skin against yours mixed with the coolness of the chain the always wear around his neck.

Playing connect the dots in your head with his freckles, fingers itching to touch him but you refrain. Scared to wake him up from his slumber. It would be so easy to just caress the bridge of his nose with your fingertips but you also know that he’s a light sleeper. The faintest movement or touch could wake him up. Biting your lip in contemplation you consider your options.

Deciding to let him sleep you only nuzzle your face into his soft and wild hair, taking in the scent of summer and coconut. It’s only a couple of weeks left of summer break and there hasn’t been a day Luca hasn’t been glued to your side. Ditching his own bed in his own home to spend his nights tangled up with you in your bedroom. His reasoning being that he hasn’t seen you in weeks because of school and that your bed is much more comfortable.

But the both of you know that the real reason is that if Luca could crawl inside your skin and never have to leave your side again he would. And you don’t complain because he’s your favourite person in this world. Not seeing him for weeks at a time is draining, being used to always having him near. Before college called your names and you both had to go. Thousand of miles apart but closer than ever.

Wriggling your arm free from under his midriff you run your fingers across his shoulder blades. Wait for a sign that you disturbed him but when he doesn’t move you continue. Craining your neck down you press a feather light kiss to his forehead.

Luca let’s out a deep breath, snuggling his face closer to the crock between your neck and shoulder. Smiling softly at the beautiful boy pressed against you, heart so full and the feeling of being loved.

“I was so scared we would grow apart when we moved for college, I’m happy we didn’t. I never want to spend my life away from you. I love you in this lifetime and I’ll love you in the ones that come after.” As if he hears your whispered confession he wraps one of his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer to him as if that’s possible.

Suddenly he blinks his eyes open slowly, a sigh falling from his parted pink lips. “Hi.” His voice is filled with sleep, all raspy and it sends a tingle down your spine.

“Hi.” You whisper back staring into his brown eyes that are looking curiously up at you. “What time is it?” Sneaking a glance at your digital clock where it sits on the nightstand, the time being 04:15. “Too early. Go back to sleep Lu. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Letting out a noise of understanding he closes his eyes again, mumbling out an I love you before sleeps yet again consumes him.

“I love you too.”

#umich hockey #umich imagine #luca fantilli imagine #Luca fantilli x reader #hockey blurb

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ceyrann · 2 years

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The vibe of the relationship you’ll share with your FS

Yes I’m doing this. A random Pick-A-Card cuz I was feeling the mood to do something and here’s that something.

The theme of this PAC is something I’ve not done or tried before, so this is Heavily For Entertainment Purposes Only. Take whatever that resonates and just drop the rest. No worries.

Arts and readings are done by me btw I have not done doodles like this for a very long time so please forgive the terrible quality lmAO.

Anyways, y’all know how it’s done. Pick the pile you’re drawn to and go wild. Piles go from left to right, top to bottom.

This is shorter than what I usually do but of course, it's a spur of a moment kinda thing so, have fun!

Pile One:

Yo y’all have a bunch of mental energy going on here with a bunch of Swords popping out for y’all. Pile One, your vibe of the relationship you’ll share with your FS is something that’s very verbal and mental. I get the image that you two are prolly pretty sarcastic people who like to catch words and use them against the other person. Strangers will often ask why y’all are fighting and you two just go “Nah this is our communication method”. That kinda bickering and sibling energy. Eventho y’all are each other’s partner lol. Bunch of clashing bright colours lmAO.

However, there may be an excess of this energy, where y’all might end up hurting each other with your words unknowingly. Thing is, you’ll prolly think you’re just being oversensitive, when you’re not. Proper communication is needed and you’ll learn to place proper boundaries from there onwards. From there, you’ll be more at peace and can banter without going too far.

You two probably share a similar dream, having a similar goal to achieve. Which is why y’all can communicate without much filters because deep down y’all know how the other person thinks. But yeah, everything should be at balance.

Pile Two:

Different from Pile One, y’all have a bunch of Cups hahahahaha!

Pile Two, the vibes y’all share are certainly more emotionally inclined. I’m getting a feeling where one of you will have puppy eyes and like snuggling or cuddling. For some reason, I feel that you’re someone who thinks about your childhood or past, even when it’s not the best or the healthiest you’ve experienced.

Sometimes, the soft comforting vibes between you two can go turbulent. It’s like soft ripples turning into crushing waves, from warm clear colours turning into murky dark rages. And these all are due to the emotions that were running out of hand. The Emperor and Queen of Cups are reversed here which gives me the feeling that you both are unwilling to compromise.

You two will need to make decisions and choices, and support from religious or some traditional custom may help? But either way, just make sure to understand each other and accept things with gratitude. Ripples are calm, but waves are the reasons why surfers can surf. There's ups and downs in life and tho difficult, I believe y'all will go through them together.

Pile Three:

Hello Pile Three! This pile gives me the feeling of beginnings and idk why I have the thought that your pile is the type who’d fight stereotypes and crush whatever that does not serve any righteous purposes.

Don’t ask me why am I saying this lmAO.

Anyways. Your vibes are pretty vibrant? Y’all are the types who’d get things done and just… Act. If y’all wanna change the interior of your room? Y’all just immediately get the paint and start painting the room. Kinda thing.

Tho I also have the feeling that you two are prolly spenders. Not a bad thing to indulge in the nice things in life but this is bound to start conflict since you two probably have different interests and hence, spending on different things. But one thing I really really like about your pile is that y’all are not afraid to ask. When something’s not right, when a conversation doesn’t go well, when emotional expectations are not met, etc. Y’all ask and talk things out.

Things are not all roses and beauty, but your pile work to find the balance in life and it’s really beautiful imo.

Pile Four:

Pile Four, I’m sensing A LOT OF FEAR HERE. Especially when I see the cards it had me going “Ummmm is this a vibe check with FS or what now???”

But also, I feel this may be the vibe of the relationship you have before the other person becomes your spouse? It’s like… “Wow this person’s really cool but I don’t think they’ll be interested in me? What do I do??” kinda energy.

There’s a bunch of colours that are mixed up and are a bit disoriented? Doubts and not taking action? No but for real.

… This is supposed to be a vibe thing but I gotta say what I gotta say I guess.

Pile Four, I understand sometimes you feel weirded out cuz The Universe is giving you something you never thought of getting, but you shouldn’t feed into your fears. You’re worth the good things in life, that’s why they’re here for you. Nurture yourself, allow your dreams and purpose to guide you to where you are. You need to overcome your fears and insecurities yourself. Sure, there are supporters around you, but ultimately, you’re the one who needs to take the action, you’re the one who’s deciding your fate.

Once you’ve done the job for yourself, you’ll only be able to welcome a new beginning with your FS.

Hope y’all have fun and do lemme know your thoughts!

#ceyrann #another PAC #for fun #this is really for fun #when i should be completing the rest of the series ahahahaha #oh well i just wanted to do something else #and then get back to work properly #the thought of doing a PAC was in my head for a while #got this out tho #NOW TO FOCUS ON MY WORK I HAVE TOO MANY THINGS TO DO #I DON'T WANNA FUCK SHIT UP AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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diaryofaprettyprincess · 2 years

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your yandere!dark!eddie writings are AMAZING, if you’re willing i’d love a one shot / drabble of maybe one of the readers friends (robin, nancy or steve would be fun !!) becoming concerned when they notice reader is acting different? maybe she’s more withdrawn or she’s more anxious about everything idk and they question her and yandere!dark!eddie finds out and is instantly like nope okay you’re not allowed to talk to them anymore because he knows they’re gonna take reader away from him. i absolutely adore your work, pls don’t feel pressured to write this! seriously anything yandere!dark!eddie would be appreciated <33

eeeeek!!!

smut warning later on!!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

"i don't want you hanging out with them!" eddie growled lowly, making your heart hurt.

"but why not?!" you whined, tears sprinkling down your face as eddie rolled his eyes, his hand clutched in yours as you both made your way out of nancy's house and to eddie's car.

previously, you had been at nancy's house, along with steve, robin, and eddie.

you all were just hanging out; you sitting on eddie's lap the whole time, his hand threaded through yours as he kissed your shoulder every-so-often, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist. once eddie and steve had gone to the gas station to get snacks, you started to panic. you couldn't be a second without eddie, getting anxious right away.

nance was one of your best friends (eddie at number one (he forcefully took that spot over)), and robin and steve were good friends.

thus, robin and nancy could see how eddie treated you. like you were his everything, sure, but in an obsessive way. where you submitted to him and let him control your life.

you were much too kind-hearted (and slightly on the air-headed side) to pick up on the fact that your relationship with eddie was not healthy.

he was overly posessive, jealous, and manipulative.

you were caring, nice, and much too naive.

nancy had to say something!

this was the first time eddie had left you alone, and to be honest, she was surprised he let you stay.

usually, he'd pull you away from her; knowing that she would show you the path out of your relationship with him.

you had become too anxious without eddie, she noticed this. however, you were still slightly nervous around him, but that was partially because you were shy and sensitive.

"y/n," she began slowly, glancing at Robin. she had already talked to robin about your situation, so she knew the whole ordeal. "when--when was the last time that you spent a day to yourself?"

you furrowed your eyebrows, confused. "what do ya mean?"

robin and nancy exchanged looks. "w-well," robin spoke, "we noticed that you seem to be..more uncomfortable with people than you were before..l-like you're always spending time with eddie, maybe you need a day to yourself to..catch up."

you tilted your head like a puppy, hands clammy from being away from eddie; you just wanted him back to hold you. "i don't get what you mean," you said breathlessly.

Nancy knew it needed to be said. "We think that Eddie's bad news!"

you were confused.

he was so caring.

sweet.

maybe a little posessive and jealous, but he loved you!

"y/n, i-i'm sorry--we're--we're sorry, but you seem less of yourself. it's been like that for a while. anytime he's around you--you, idunno--submit to everything he says! You let him take you away from us, and it's like your cornered, like--look, we love you, and we don't wanna hurt you, but..eddie's like too posessive and-and obsessive!" Robin rambeled, and at that same time, eddie was listening from behind the door.

In reality, he told steve to get snacks, and eddie would run to his house to get some beers--that you weren't allowed to drink (eddie created that rule)-- but instead, eddie had a six-pack in his car that he could pull out when steve got back.

but for the past ten minutes, he was overhearing the conversation between the three of you.

seeing red, he swung open the door, an irritated smile drawn across his lips, and he could see nancy and robin's face drop.

"eddie!" you yelped, surprised. he clenched his jaw through his smile, holding a hand out in front of him.

"let's go, baby." he said, making you whimper in a confused tone.

"w-why?"

"y/n. let's. go." you could feel your bottom lip quivering as you nodded, head down, grabbing onto eddie's hand as robin and nancy called for you.

instead, you followed right by eddie as he pulled you outside, walking quickly.

he turned you around once he got farther away from the Wheeler's house.

"i don't want you being around them..not anymore, you hear me?" he asked, his hand cupping your face and squeazing your lips together in an exaggerated pout.

"mmf-w-what, why?" you mumbled out, eyes wide.

"because, they're no good."

"b-but!"

eddie ignored you, starting to walk again with his hand crushing yours.

"eddie!-" you tried, but he interrupted.

"i don't want you hanging out with them!" he growled lowly, making your heart hurt.

"but why not?!" you whined, tears sprinkling down your face as eddie rolled his eyes.

eddie opened the car door for you, his pupils dark as he slammed your door shut, making you wince before a sob broke loose in your throat. he was ignoring your question.

he went around the back of his car, hopping into his seat before starting the engine.

"y/n, stop fucking crying," he warned, and that only made you cry more.

"why're you bein' so mean ta me?" you whimpered wetly, and eddie only chuckled coldly.

"i'm not being mean, angel" he said sweetly, much too sweetly in fact; an edge to his tone. he began driving his way back to his trailer. "i'm being reasonable. they're jealous of our relationship, baby, they wanna break us up because they think that if they do that, then they can control you!"

"no, they don't!" you sniffled back, beginning a long trip back home of you crying, bickering with eddie, and crying some more as he yelled at you.

"i can see it, sweetheart! they don't care about you the way i do!"

eddie's trailer door slammed shut as he dragged you to his room, his uncle asleep on the sofa watching TV.

"sweetheart, they aren't good enough for you! they're jealous of you--of--of us!" he cupped your face, his cold rings contrasting with the warm tears that created wet pathways down your cheeks.

"what, am i not good enough for you? is--is that it?" he manipulated, and you hiccuped over a small sob, "eds, n-no! y-you're everything ta me! i-i love you!"

eddie's eyes softened at your admission, "you only need me, princess.." he whispered, his forehead touching yours as he cupped your head and brought his lips to your wet cheeks, then your forehead, kissing gently.

"i-i know..i love you." you swallowed, holding onto his forearms as he cupped your face.

"i love you more." and he kissed your lips.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

later on that night when he was pounding into you, candles lit and soft, quiet music playing; your brain fuzzy from eddie's constant pleasuring; he kissed you softly through your choked moans and whimpers, your head lolling to the side.

"m-my baby, mine," he cursed softly, thrusting his hips into yours, his pelvis creating friction on your clit. he held your foreheads together plotting small kisses on your lips as he groaned quietly.

"e-eddie's baby, y-yours, mine, lub you," you babbled lazily, your mind in a swirl.

eddie cursed, holding onto your hips to fuck harder into you before putting his hand around your throat. "i love you more, baby; m-mine forever an' ever." he kissed you again.

you had never felt more loved.

nancy and robin didn't know what they were talking about.

eddie was perfect for you.

#eddiemunsonxreader #yandere!eddiemunson x reader #yandere!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #smut warning #toxic!eddie munson #the way i didnt check this for errors either #mail 💌#thank you anon <3 #this was kinda bad m so sorry i wrote this at 2:30 am

1K notes · View notes

thecommunalfoolboy · 11 months

Text

What your favorite Lupin The Third Character says about you

When people make these they always just say nice things and traits of the character and it’s dumb so here’s me being right

Anyway my reputation for misogyny is legendary

Ok this largely depends on if you like edgy Jigen or goofy ah Jigen but

You desperately need to stop getting into arguments online, both in general and on whether Jigen is deep and emo or a silly guy

Gay Gay homosexual gay 🫵

You took one look at him and Lupin and said “Damn these bitches gay!” In a half joking way but the show itself proved you right in 10 seconds

Lol emo

Ok but actually seek psychiatric care

You either write porn about him in your head or you’re extremely asexual

There’s something weird going on with your gender but that’s kinda true if you watch this show in general

You’re too broke to get that next piercing don’t do it

You’re either as devastated about them whitewashing our boy as I am or you should be

Hey remember they whitewashed Goemon too you should be equally as mad about that

You head canon he speaks Spanish

Go to bed

He’s a nice man

Seek help brother

You play with jpegs like dolls

Beneath your eyes is a deep dark hole of information on this show’s lore

You also hate him so much and you want to see him die painfully <3

You want that twink OBLITERATED

You should really raise the price on your art it is so much better than you think it is

Some of you have only seen the first and it shows

“Brother,,,,, help me,,,,,,”

“Long live the king……”

Lol you thought I’m not letting you off that easy you’re deeply traumatized You’ve never felt safe in your life and the most inner hurt part of you desperately needed an adult to help you at a time in your life when you should’ve been worried about learning your times tables not whether you’d survive another day and one of the reasons you’re drawn to characters like this and collect fictional fathers is because you see a glowing smile and an infallible hero who could’ve saved you when you needed it the most

Or you’re Japanese native but like

Autism 👿

Woah dude are you like… autistic???

Stop looking at his tits

A small but significant subsection of you people are just racist and cannot be normal about Japan

If someone asked your thoughts on him you’d just be like :)))) the silly

You have way too many screenshots of him looking weird in the background

You def hate part 5 and twcfm

Whenever tms forgets he exists for a while you still watch it but you look like a wet kitten

You’re def short

You need to stop coping and accept it he looked fully insane in part 3 the hair is so so bad

You’re probably transmasc

I just wanna say I’m so sorry

She’s an ugly bitch there I said it

STROP BEING HORNY

You’re probably a girl

And definitely bi

Y’all probably know the least about the show as a whole

Good for you!! You actually touch grass

Or again you’re in the racist subgroup

The titles for each character confuse you but you only realized this one’s Fujiko because either I just said it or you saw the “stop being horny” and knew

You probably have insanely hot takes on the show

They did your girl dirty im so sorry

You’d die on the hill of whichever of her hair colors you think is best but at least you’re dead

I’m scared of you

Hey you should watch the first if you haven’t already

Zemigamna 🥺

You cry every time someone says Yata was boring and didn’t need to be in the show

Miyazaki studio gibli ass 🫵

Please you still have time left you can get out before you become obsessed you’re not in too deep yet RUN RUN SAVE YOURSEL

Or this show is all you have left and it’s infinitely too late for you no in between

Again probably a girl

You’re definitely not normal about fujiko either

You hate that one movie where he’s a dick with a burning passion and you would write 20 page essays on it

If you’re obsessed with him you probably have a chronic illness (same bestie) or major physical disability

Anyway if I fully clocked you let me know I think it’s funny to see you guys suffer

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pashminalamb · 2 years

Text

ℂ𝕆𝕄𝔽𝕆ℝ𝕋 + 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼 𝕃𝔸ℕ𝔾𝕌𝔸𝔾𝔼 ℍ𝔼𝔸𝔻ℂ𝔸ℕℕ𝕆ℕ𝕊 𝕆ℕ 𝔹𝕃𝕌𝔼 𝕃𝕆ℂ𝕂 𝕄𝔼ℕ

ଘ Starring : Isagi Yoichi, Itoshi Rin, Nagi Seishiro, Mikage Reo, Bachira Meguru and Chigiri Hyouma

ଘ Note : This is on how I perceive bllk characters during the time of comfort + analysis of how they would be with a partner (more or less involves personality traits too). Reference to how I would write them in future works. They have been aged up. They are 21 here.

ଘ Warnings : none. It's fluff.

ଘ Reblogs, comments and likes are very much appreciated !!

ଘ Word count : 4.1k words

ଘ Do not repost, translate, copy or edit my works.

ʚ ɞ Isagi Yoichi :

シ Self doubt was not new to Isagi, but he was always interrupted by coincidences where he was immediately pulled away from it, making him see a different direction, mind pushing him to change for the better. Seeing you walk into the house in a glum condition, he wouldn’t be the first to approach you, choosing to observe your behavior for the first twenty minutes rather than confronting you about it.

シ Being in a relationship after a long time, he would pick up on your mannerisms. If food was what made you happy, expect the kitchen to be burning down with a panicking Isagi running across the room with a dish that looked burned to the core from the oven and throwing it straight into the sink before turning to you with an apologetic expression.

シ promise to clean it up later. I’m sorry” he would say, giving awkward laughs in the middle of his sentences, hoping he didn’t cause you any more distress.

シ If movies were what you enjoyed, he would build a pillow fort for the both of you along with the supply of food and snacks. He would personally choose something light hearted like children animated movies. If you complained about it, he would retort with a “These are for adults too.” grabbing a handful of popcorn, and throwing it into his mouth.

シ If you would go outdoors and forget about your troubles rather than staying inside the house, Isagi would stop by the room where you had isolated yourself, claiming that it was your alone time with the jingle of his car keys with a smile.

“Wanna go to the gaming arcade?” he would ask hesitantly, hoping you wouldn’t react aggressively.

シ It was only at night when his arm would circle around you to pull your back closer to his chest he would make a conversation with you. The silence of the night brought a calm composure and the fact that you were ready to sleep and start fresh the next day was the only logic he had, deciding to go into the awake lion’s den.

“So that’s what happened today…” he would mutter.

“It seems stupid doesn’t it? That’s why I didn't want to talk about it.” you would murmur, hiding your face into the pillow. Getting up from his side of the bed, he would roll over you and come face to face with you, making you stare into his dark eyes that reflected the dimness in the room.

“It’s not stupid. If you don’t solve a puzzle and leave it be, how can you see which piece fits where?” he would say, holding your face. He would stroke your cheek with his thumb, whispering sweet nothings, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. “Tomorrow, we’ll start with a new day. And no matter how stupid anything sounds, talk to me.” he would say, leaving a few more kisses on your head.

シ In the morning he would remind you how much he cared for you with an attempt of making a pancake, that was a bit burnt but an improvement nonetheless with chocolate syrup that was drawn in the pattern of a smiley face.

“For once you decided not to draw a football.” you said with a teasing smile.

And that’s how he knew you were back to being fine.

ʚ ɞ Itoshi Rin :

シ Itoshi was an alien to the subject of being comforted. Growing up with the intention of getting back at his brother by beating him at the game they both loved, left him arrogant and blunt, focusing on nothing but being better at his game, leaving no room for mistakes of being human. Being in a relationship with him, you are already well versed with the fact of how cold he can be when it comes to situations where you felt low and less proud of yourself. Most of all, you would feel low when you believed that Rin was much better than you. After all, he was the brother of a football prodigy and he himself was another from the Itoshi family. Sometimes you would question your self worth of why he would choose to be with you. Footballers usually choose supermodels or models as their significant others and you were nothing but a mere ash compared to that.

シ There were days where you’d doubt your worth by staying alone all day in bed, choosing to not move an inch. Rin couldn’t understand this behavior.

シ “Move Moron.” he said once, which caused you to snap and break out into an argument. It left him confused and worried for he had never seen you react so rash and aggressively. Being in a relationship with Rin called for nicknames that were disguised as insults rather than sweet and affectionate nicknames couples called one another according to books and movies. So what caused you to take it to heart this time?

シ Clutching the pillow to your chest, you sniffled into the case, not caring if it was smudged with your tears. “Cry anymore and you’ll run yourself an illness.” a recognizable baritone voice said, causing you to turn the other way and cry.

シ With a sigh, Rin would walk to his closet, grabbing a handkerchief and a sweater. Coming close to your figure, he would sit himself on the bed/ sofa, holding you by your shoulders gently and pulling away the pillow.

シ Seeing your puffed up eyes and running nose, he would hold the handkerchief close to your face. “Blow.” he would command in a light tone, placing the cloth on your nose. Giving a few sniffles, you would defiantly use the kerchief, silently grateful that you wouldn’t have a stuffy nose later on. “Change out and wear this.” Rin would say, dropping his sweater into your lap. He would leave the room for your privacy, telling you to come to the living room once you were done. Moving out of what you would label your gloomy corner, you would be surprised at the collection of movies that included a variety (mostly horror) and takeout.

シ Making conversations wasn’t his strongest suit, so that chances of him trying to talk about your problems would be high but the words coming out of him would be none.

シ Taking advice from his teammates would be a big step for him as he is very private about his personal life except the fact that he wanted to defeat his older brother in the game of football. Sibling rivalry was something the both had in common even if they had grown out of their teen years.

シ Would rely on Isagi even if it bruised his ego for he wanted to do whatever was possible to maintain this relationship. Once Isagi would tell him measures on how he could comfort you, Rin is left puzzled with the question of how truly relationships worked. Being vulnerable was not something he was used to. Since he had been a closed shell for so long, he would find it difficult to console for he had no one to do the same for him.

シ Rin resorts to providing distractions, choosing to use horror movies. It was better if you were scared of a non-existent ghost rather than thinking and revisiting the events that took place during the day that caused you to become upset.

シ If trouble was in the form of a person, Rin would not back down from picking a bone with the said person, choosing to do it behind your back rather than in front of you , knowing that you would be upset.

シ As arrogant as he is, he does care about you. Physical touch and communication isn’t something he is good at, but he can try.

シ When you do sleep at night next to him, he would initiate small gestures like reaching out for your hand, bringing it to the space between the two of you, or interlocking the pinkies of your hands. It brought comfort to him at times, giving a light squeeze to your palm. If you squeezed back, he knew you were okay.

シ Words didn’t come easy neither did his actions, but baby steps on a daily basis would change that, making him bold to leave a peck on your cheek. If it made you feel better, it would be specially reserved on the days you felt low.

ʚ ɞ Nagi Seishiro :

シ Going with the flow was easy for Nagi. There were times where he would face high pressure situations, either due to the stressed significance of the match held or the people he was competing with. There was one thing Nagi had learned to get better control over and that was the fact that he could be calm and composed.

シ During the days you were found sitting so still with your shoulders slumped, Nagi knew you weren’t feeling alright. Being with Reo for long enough, he had witnessed a similar stance when his friend had come troubled from home.

シ Using childlike logic, he would try his hardest to get attention from you. If you were lying on the bed, he would body flop on you with his arms stretched out, not caring if you were crushed under his weight or height. If you were sitting on the chair, he would invade your space, caging your head with his hunched like figure from behind,his upside down face coming into your view.

シ “Let’s play a game.” he would argue in a high pitched childlike tone.

“I am not in a mood for gaming, Sei.” you would respond, turning face the other way, hoping he would understand that that was the end of discussion. However, Nagi was not one to give up easily. Walking around he would bend with his hands on his knees, coming face to face against you, determined light blue eyes staring into yours. “Nuh uh. Let’s play.” he would say, grabbing your hands, dragging you towards the gaming room.

“I don’t want to play Sei.”

シ Ignorant towards your protests, he would pick out games that you liked playing the best. Grabbing both the consoles, he would sit on the floor between your legs while you sat on the sofa, watching the screen earnestly. It wasn’t until the middle of the game, Seishiro grabbed your hand and placed it on his head. It was his way of saying to run your hands through his hair. “I’m playing the game Sei” you protested only for him to whine in a high pitched voice, hand pausing over yours, stopping it in place. Sighing, you watched as he switched the game to genshin impact, the sounds of the game being calm in the background.

シ “Do you want to tell me what happened today?” he would ask, hand reaching for the tube of ice cream among the snacks he had brought to the gaming room. シ “Its nothing” you would say, brushing off the question. Muting the game, he would turn to face you, blue eyes filled with curiosity, sucking the tube of ice cream. Placing both his arms on your legs, he would prop his chin up against them. “Then why were you so sad?” he would ask.

Biting your lip in response, Nagi would move his head from side to side, making your hand move within the tresses of his hair.

シ Once you would explain it to him, he would throw the most childish insults at the person or object that caused you to be sad, causing you to laugh at his antics.

シ Nagi’s love language is physical rather than communicating as words haven’t been his strongest feat. His expression lies more in his eyes, and feather-like touches. シ During the days you are sad, he is persistent to place his chin on your head, arms coming to hold you from either side, caging you in, despite your size. He doesn’t share his snacks usually, but he would be willing to make an exception on the days that were unkind to you.

シ Another thing he likes to do is to take a soak with you. If he had learnt anything from playing football, it was the fact that nothing could go wrong with taking a warm bath or visiting the onsen. It is one of the reasons he spends most of his money on bathing salts and essence.

シ He would also play Lofi music around the house and cuddle you, letting you relax into his figure. Rubbing soothing circles into your arm, he would place kisses on the skin of your neck. He likes warm spaces like your neck or entangling your feet with his, burying his legs underneath yours to steal some of the warmth that built up from your body, leaving them on the sheets.

シ When he looks down and sees you smile, he knows everything would fall in place.

ʚ ɞ Mikage Reo :

シ Growing up as the heir to Mikage corporation, he was treated more as a puppet rather than a human being with feelings. Reo was no stranger to receiving the cold shoulder or being subjected to lack of comfort, something that made him strive to do better once he was in a relationship.

シ It was difficult at first for he seldom talked about his struggles when he was younger and didn’t know the basics of body language. Being in a terrible low was a feeling Reo had become accustomed to for a while, but what if it was time for him to be there for someone else who was going through the same thing?

シ Leaning against the doorframe, he watched you closely, legs sprawled out onto the floor, back against the wood of the bed, staring at the ceiling with tears in your eyes. He wasn’t one to ask what had happened because he knew it would be the same as rubbing salt into a fresh wound, instead he chose a better way out which was similar to getting ice cream for a child who had scraped their knee. シ Kneeling down to your level, he came eye to eye with you.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” he asked, purple eyes widening in excitement.

Lifting your hand and wiping away your tears, you answered him curiously.

“Where are we going?”

シ Jingling the keys of the car, he would hold your hand and guide you to the passenger seat, tossing a bag behind him. Looking at him with a questioning gaze of the contents in the bag, he would simply answer “It’s a secret.” with a smile, placing his hands on the steering wheel, revving up the engine.

シ It was late evening when he pulled up to a dark and empty football, the green grass reflecting the light of lamps that were placed around the field. Emptying out the contents of the bags, two water bottles, a pair of shoes and socks along with a ball fell to the ground.

シ Tying his shoelaces and doing the same to yours, Reo pulled you up, bringing you to a stop on the field within the penalty area.

シ Placing the ball on the ground, he would make a quick jog before kicking it into the net.

“My father never understood my obsession with the game. Thought it was useless and there was no point to it cause no one ever made a future out of it. But here we are.” he said with a smile, walking towards the still ball to pick it up.

シ Placing it a few meters away from the goal post, he looked at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Kick it. As hard as you can. But with the side of your foot, not with the front of it.” he would instruct you, walking a bit back to leave you some space.

シ Taking a breath, you did as he told, the ball meeting with the net to create a satisfying “woosh”. “You did it !” he would exclaim, kissing the side of your head, running towards the ball to pick it up.

シ “Can we do it again?” you would ask excitedly, your joy satisfying Reo, assuring him that you were going to be fine.

“If you’re willing to take it half a meter behind the previous post, sure.” he would challenge.

“Done.”

ʚ ɞ Bachira Meguru :

シ Bachira was not a stranger to the feeling of loneliness. It was the emotion that drove him to do better than anyone else had. Something strange about loneliness was it was also accompanied with the feeling of being selfish. For when someone was lonely, there was no one else or anything else to worry about. But that changed when Meguru met you.

シ There were days where you felt you weren’t your best, bright self and Meguru was left with a way to curb that. It was more of a trial and error case with him.

“Do you want to go bowling?” he asked excitedly, amber colored irises filled with joy. “No, Meguru.” you answered.

“Do you want to go ice skating?” he asked. “You can’t ice skate, Megruru.” you replied, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Do you want to go to the restaurant?” he asked. “I’d rather not be around people.” you said.

“No people, no balls, no ice… Got it!” he said, snapping his fingers. “Get ready. We’re leaving in ten minutes.” he said, running out of the room in jiffy. Coming back in jeans and a blue shirt, he was surprised to see you hadn’t moved from your spot. Pulling you by your legs till you slid down in an uncomfortable position, he looked down smugly at you.

“You seem decently dressed, let’s go.” he would say, waving his hand for you to follow him.

“Give me ten, i’ll get dressed.” you said with a sigh.

シ Dragging your hand through the crowded streets, he pulled into a building, walking through the hallways of the alien-like structure which you had never visited before. Pressing the button of the elevator, Bachira held your hand in his, his thumb rubbing against the surface of your skin.

シ “Meguru, where are we?” you would ask turning to face him.

シ “We’re at the karaoke.” he would reply with a mischievous grin, tongue sticking out.

シ That night, not only did you know that Bachira could sing, but he could sing extremely well. Having your fun at the karaoke after he urged you to sing and your vocal cords screaming at you to hydrate, you finally left for home, smiling fondly at the memory of you singing with your boyfriend.

シ During days like this, Meguru would also take you to the aquarium, smiling at your expressions that you made as you pressed up close to the glass to get a better look at the sea animals. He reserved going out to places such as these for days when you felt low with normal dates like going for picnics, rides, carnivals etc. to be had on weekends.

シ On days you feel low, Bachira would also buy paint, willing to set up the stand canvas in the living room, guiding your hand to make random lines that made no sense, only for it to play an important role as a part of a bigger picture.

“You are good at this. Who taught you how to paint?” you asked, leaning over the canvas that was now left to dry.

“My mother used to be a painter.” he said with a fond smile, reminiscing over the memories he made with her during childhood. Bachira was more than ready to be your rock during moments like this; singing you to sleep when your troubles would keep you awake. Hand running through your hair, he would give your head gentle strokes as he hummed a lullaby, his baritone ringing through his Adams apple, making you relax.

シ Another thing Meguru was good at was also giving massages, having to rub his mother’s shoulders and rotate her wrists from the hours she had spent painting. Using his hefty yet calm hands, he would work out knots in the muscles of your body, leaving you relaxed and loose.

シ On nights like this, Meguru would talk to you in soothing and tender voice, telling you everything about him and how glad he is to have found you aside from his teammates if you had begin to question the value he saw in you.

シ He would also make you laugh at his expense with the weird faces he makes along with ridiculous explanations of what each one meant.

シ Feeling in your lowest, he blasts music at the loudest point that the neighbors complain about the noise he made. But was it worth your smile as he twirled you around the room and matched footsteps with him? Definitely.

シ No matter what the day might bring, Bachira was happy to know that his skills aside from football could bring you rays of sunshine on your dark days.

ʚ ɞ Chigiri Hyouma :

シ The lowest point in Chigiri’s life was when he had an accident. One that could change the life of any athlete, inciting fear of performing to their best if they ever tried. The ACL was one of turning points of Chigiri’s life and it wasn’t until he had joined blue lock he learnt to get over the fear and play every match as if it were his last.

シ Getting into a relationship with you was one of the best decisions he had ever made, but he also knew that it came with its own difficulties such as the struggles one partner faced while the other one knew nothing about it. シ Hyouma knew something was amiss when you hadn’t spoken to him the whole day, causing him to worry if he had done something to upset you. Walking towards you, he came to stop before you while you rubbed circles into the sides of your head.

シ Taking your name, as your eyes snapped into his, giving him all your attention. “Is something wrong?” he asked in the most tender voice he could muster. It made you break down into a stream of tears, leading to an awkward yet comforting Hyouma who was rubbing circles into your back while your fists balled into the cloth of his shirt.

シ After calming you down with soft coos and words, Hyouma told you to grab your bathing suit. The two of you were headed to the beach. During the time of physiotherapy, Hyouma had learnt to cope with the harsh reality of his leg being bound by the chains of his accident.

If anything came out of physiotherapy it was the fact that he had learnt to enjoy water and the hobby of swimming.

シ During troubled times, he would go to the pool or the beach where he would let his feet sink in the sand and stand among waves that pushed and pulled the grains of sand under his feet. Holding your hand, the two of you would watch waves crash at night, the pearly white foam of the sea coming into your vision as it crashed against the shore, the sound of moving water surrounding you.

シ It wasn’t until you felt a small splash on your thigh when you saw Chigiri with a mischievous grin the play fight had started between the two of you.

“Not fair! You are the fastest runner on the field!” you would shout while laughing as you ran behind him, watching his hair flow with the wind.

シ “That’s what you have to deal with if you splash salt water on me!” he would yell back, looking back at you as he broke into a small jog. Catching up to him, he could hear you pant for breath while he barely had any sweat.

“Think we can come here more often?” you asked, looking up at him from the bent position of your hands resting against your thighs.

“I don’t see why not?” Hyouma replied with a smile, offering his hand to you as the two of you walked along the shore of the beach.

シ Hyouma also keeps spa days at home where he would give you a hair routine, massaging your head with oils, shampooing it and then drying it with the utmost care. He learns which spots make you feel relaxed the most, watching your face contort either into an expression of pleasure or one with eyebrows furrowed, letting out a snort over how predictable you were.

シ One of his ways to comfort you is to run his hand through your hair, feeling the texture and trends of it. Nuzzling into it is a relaxing point for both you and him. He doesn’t mind your hair not being touched as he is finicky about it as well. But he would guide your hands towards his red tresses, knowing that you enjoyed it. It was a special routine he reserved before sleeping. He knows you are going to be fine when he feels you kiss his neck and mutter a thanks before drifting off to sleep with him following you right after.

778 notes · View notes

alphabetboyluvr · 10 months

Text

bad decisions - jjk | eight

"God, what's wrong with us?" He laughs, still tapping the side of your head with his foot. It's annoying, but you let him. "Fear of intimacy and fear of rejection," you muse. "Make quite the pair." He smiles in such a way that it doesn't feel like a smile, but he hopes that the hormones will play tricks on him. Will convince him that he's happy. "Anyways, I keep the birds up as a reminder, I guess." "Of?" He just shrugs. "Gotta set people free." It's a nice idea. One you think you'd quite like to indulge in, too. "You got any more paper?" "Fuckin' loads. Accidentally ordered, like, a thousand sheets." Your voice is delicate as you say, "Show me how to make them?"

Bad Decision #8 - Washi Tape

warnings: THE BIRDS!!!! the most important plot device of the story!!, mentions of jk's former fwb (grimacing as i type)

soundtrack: are we having any fun yet? - larkins; beach side - kings of leon; toroka - christian kuria

wc: 8k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

When Jungkook wakes up in a dark room, he's confused. He never sleeps in pitch-black darkness. Even when his curtains are drawn, he usually has a lamp running throughout the night. It projects a galaxy onto his ceiling. Makes him feel like he's surrounded by stars.

Had no need for it last night, mind you.

After all, you were there. He was already surrounded by stars.

But now, he's not.

His eyes hazily focus on the pile of pillows next to his bed. He's kind of glum when he notices you're no longer buried within them. Pouts. Thinks you've done it again.

Thinks you've succumbed to your typical routines; done to him what was so unfairly done to you in the early hours of that very morning.

Would make sense, and yet he still feels a little vexed. Feels like it's a bit of a dick move on your part. Thinks that at the very least, you could have woken him to say goodbye.

He can't bring himself to be annoyed though. Is too concerned. Fears that the cold light of day will have left you embarrassed about your upset, and more than anything, he doesn't want you to lament the choices that led you to his place.

Doesn't wanna be another one of your bad decisions.

But then his bedroom door clicks open, and he closes his eyes, trying to pretend as if he'd never been mentally chewing you out for 'leaving'.

He's lethargic as he turns to hook a leg over his duvet, rolling onto his front. He's in shorts, the shirt he'd gone to bed in discarded during the night after he'd gotten a little too hot.

It's bunched up next to the towel that's crumpled by his head. He's not resting on it anymore, but it was always inevitable. He gets restless in his sleep.

Back broad, the ridge of his spine is on full display, muscles framing his skeleton like a work of art. He's got the kind of body the Greeks would have sculpted; Renaissance artists would have painted. Maybe one day you'll fill a canvas at the cafe with a study of his back.

He groans, an incoherent murmur sounding in his throat as he rubs his face into his mattress.

"Thought you'd left," he grumbles, voice slow and lethargic, eyes still closed. This is exactly why he sleeps with his curtains open. It makes it so much harder to stay in a state of slumber when he's being blinded by sunlight.

By the door, you're smiling. "Sorry. Didn't leave. Just went to get some water."

"Gimmie."

He pushes himself up, palms flat on the bed as he twists to face you.

Your hair is a little lopsided from where you've slept on it, but his is just the same. Even worse, maybe. In fact, he actually looks like he's just stuck a fork in an outlet with how unruly it is. His eyes are puffy, and he really doesn't want to keep them open, but he's trying to get a read on your mood.

He's pleasantly surprised to find you smiling, delicate as you tiptoe around his bed with two glasses of water. "Here."

Sitting up, duvet pooled around his waist, Jungkook takes the glass from you with two hands and chugs on it as if he's spent his dreams in the Sahara without a flask. The way he glugs it down is actually concerning - and the fact he doesn't stop until he's practically poured all of it down his gullet? You're surprised he doesn't drown himself.

He finishes with a slight gasp, and when he opens his eyes again, they're not as puffy as they once were. "Cheers."

You've only taken a single sip. Too busy looking at him with sheer bewilderment.

"Thirsty?" You laugh.

"Nah," he grins. The lies he tells are so sweet when he's looking at you like that. Makes you want to believe them. "Not in the slightest. Sleep alright? What time is it?"

"Really well, actually," you nod, taking a sip on your water as you sit back down into your pile of pillows. You notice his lack of cushions, and toss one up to him. It lands in his lap with a soft thud. "And it's just gone eleven."

He grumbles, taking the pillow beneath his arms, on top of his lap. No matter how late he gets home from work, he hates sleeping in late. Feels like he wastes his days. So much life to live in such a short amount of time. Wants to make the most of it.

"Not fancy the gym today?" You ask as he rubs his eyes, trying to shake himself from his drowsy slump.

"Figured you didn't need it," he says with an indifferent shrug. His lip ring glistens in the small stream of light that creeps in through the gap in his curtains. You lean around to pull one of them open a little further. He winces. Whines. "Bright."

"I didn't need it?" you ask, a little confused by what he means, ignoring his discomfort from the light. It's not like his visits to the gym have anything to do with you.

"You're not hungover," he shrugs, letting his body relax back down onto his mattress, pillow now beneath his head. "You don't need to walk it off."

"But you work out without me," you remind him. "Still could have gone."

He snorts now, eyes closed, lips pouting as he purrs a jibe in your direction. "I always workout without you, because you don't actually work out-"

"Fuck off, yes I do."

"Don't," he grins, opening one of his eyes, just to ignore the outrage on your soft features. He's glad you're eating up his bait. He's trying to move the direction of the conversation. Doesn't want to have to explain that he actually stayed home from the gym so that you wouldn't have to wake alone again. Would rather his kindness go unnoticed. "It's fine, though. Had a late night last night. I can go this evening instead. No work."

"Sorry," you whisper as you throw him a smile, aware that you've disrupted his plans, but he just shakes his head.

"S'cool," he shrugs. It's no hardship. No skin off his back. "Honestly."

His toned muscles tweak in the morning light as he reaches for his shirt, and you find yourself looking away. It's not like there's any need for it - his body is probably the thing he's most confident of - but the fact he's trying to cover himself makes you think that maybe you're seeing something you're not supposed to.

There are a couple of tattoos he'd rather not explain, and a tiny white scar just below his ribs from a wheelie gone wrong during his childhood, but nothing too revealing.

Still, you're in his space, and that in itself feels incredibly personal. Not uncomfortable, just a little less casual now in the broad daylight that's pouring in through his windows than it had been in the dark of night.

"I should probably get out of your hair," you offer, not wanting to overstay your welcome.

Jungkook disagrees. Thinks you're perfectly welcome. "No rush."

"It's fine," you smile, pulling your hair from the bun it's tied in and shaking it out. It smells like strawberries. Smells like Jungkook. "I really appreciate you being around last night. The least I can do is not derail your entire Sunday."

He wants to say that taking an alternative route wouldn't be derailing, and that it really doesn't matter if he ends up at the same destination, but locomotive metaphors feel lame, and he also doesn't wanna have to explain that chess wasn't the only slightly nerdy pastime he'd indulged in a child.

So instead, he just says, "If you're sure?"

Your clothes hang over the back of his desk chair, just as slouchy and comfy as the shirt of his you're wearing, but somehow a little less appealing. He reaches over for them and tosses them your way, because he doesn't want it to look like he'd quite like you to stay.

Just feels bad that you'll be going back to your apartment, knowing it will smell like your ex. Knows that the reality you ran away from will be just the same as you left it. The bed will still be unmade, the clothes Seokjin had stripped you of will still be crumpled on your floor. Maybe the indent of his head will still be on your pillow, condom wrapper still by the foot of your bed. The sound of his laugh could be trapped beneath your duvet, the feel of his hands on your skin could be heavy in the stale air of your unventilated bedroom.

Should have opened a window before you left.

And Seokjin never should have left in the first place, but it is what it is.

"I'll let you get changed," Jungkook says, drawing you from your senseless thoughts, eyes soft, not really waiting for a response before he heads for his door.

You say a small thank you, but it's muffled slightly by the way it catches in your throat. He doesn't acknowledge it, slipping out of his room without turning back.

He's conscious of the fact that you've been rolling dice and landing on chance cards for a little while, now. Your friendship had been chalked up to lucky encounters and serendipitous endeavours.

Last night was much more deliberate. Felt like you'd looked through the chance cards before picking one: Go to a square of your choice. Collect £200 if you pass go.

He doesn't have a full set of cards yet. Can't put down houses, nor hotels - but you landed on the waterworks last night, and he landed on the electricity company. You're level. Both winners; both losers.

Muffled chatter has you slightly on edge as you hear Jimin's sleepy voice spliced in conversation with Jungkook's. Hadn't considered how strange it could look for you to be leaving Jungkook's room, when all three of you know the last time you'd been in their apartment, it was Jimin's room that you'd tried (and failed) to sneak out of.

And while there's no need for you to sneak around now, you know it will look a little precarious if you slink out of Jungkook's room with a look upon your face that will no doubt reek of guilt.

It's not because you've done anything wrong, but just because you understand the dynamics of friendship. If Jimin emerged from Danbi's room without warning, you'd be a little confused. Not upset, per se, but definitely awkward. It's easier for everyone if your current whereabouts are unknown.

You fold Jungkook's shirt neatly and smooth his bed sheets, trying to make his room look a little bit more presentable.

As you're stacking the mountain of pillows towards the top of his double bed, you can hear Jimin query where the sofa cushions have gone. Jungkook lies. Says he was building a fort for gaming. Promises he'll bring them back - but Jimin just says not to worry. He'll bring his pillows from his bedroom into the living room for the time being. Jungkook can keep the fort up.

There's a smile on your lips. It's nice to hear them chatter; nice to hear Jimin in a normal setting outside of a club or a bedroom. Even nicer to hear that Jungkook is just as tender with his housemate as he is with you. He's kind. You think it's your favourite thing about him.

Which is strange, because normally kindness makes you run for the hills - but as you cross your legs, sitting at the end of his bed, you realise there's no need. The reason you're not running is because Jungkook isn't chasing you. He walks alongside you, like your shoelaces are tied together.

Maybe one day you'll trip, but for now, you have a good pace set.

When he returns to his room, he's holding a finger to his lips. Shush, Byeol. Keep quiet.

And yet he vaults a packet of crisps at your face without much thought. The thick plastic crinkles against you, and Jungkook finds himself in a state of pleasant surprise from the impact, brows raised, mouth circled like a polo.

You say a thousand words with just a single gasp.

"Sorry, sorry," he whispers with a hushed giggle, the door now shut, realising how much he underestimated his throw. His palms are raised like he's holding white flags until he reaches the bed. You go to kick him, but he catches your ankle just in time. "Hey, hey!" He's still whispering. "I said I'm sorry!"

His thumb strokes against the bone of your ankle as he apologises, and the sweetness of his smile is hard to resist. You yank your leg back from his grasp and narrow your eyes.

"Couldda blinded me."

"Don't be dramatic."

"Never tell a dramatic girl to stop being dramatic, Jungkook. You don't know what you'll unleash."

He rolls his eyes and flops down onto his bed beside you. He's looking up at those damn birds again - so you do the same. His patchwork arm folds behind his head, ink-free arm resting over his stomach as he waits for you to shuffle into a comfortable position. There's only a little distance between the pair of you, but it's enough to reinforce that line you've drawn in the sand.

"Jimin's just put The Notebook on," he says without much animation, as if it were an inevitability he saw coming.

"So..."

"So, it means two things," he says with absolute certainty—because it was an inevitability. "Number one? He didn't get laid last night."

You laugh, not picturing Jimin as much of a romantic- especially when you know how he likes to fuck. Must have been why he offered you the chance to stay over. It could be that your least favourite part of a hook-up - the intimacy - is his favourite.

"And two?"

"Two is that we've got two hours until he leaves the living room."

"Shit."

Jungkook turns his head to face you, seemingly affronted by your exclamation. "Ouch. Rude. My company isn't that bad."

You let your gaze drop to meet his, the side of your head now resting on his duvet. You smile. "Yes, it is."

"Dickhead," he laughs, but doesn't let his gaze linger on yours for too long. Something so damn fascinating about those birds. "Nah, it's up to you. If you really have to get gone, I don't mind telling him you're here. I don't think he'll make it weird, or anything.

"I'd rather not," you admit. "Just means... explaining things, doesn't it? Don't really want a guy I hooked up with once knowing the ins and outs of my dating life."

He nods. Understands. Things are simple between the pair of you, but there are complexities when it comes to your mutual friends.

"Told him I'm not feeling great, so he's not gonna disturb me for a bit. I'll get Netflix up on my desktop or something, you can watch whatever you fancy. I've got some coursework to catch up on, so I'll be doing that."

You watch Jungkook as he reaches over you with a muffled sigh. He's retrieving the iPad from his nightstand. He's never mentioned his studies before, but there's something incredibly confusing about the concept of him—bartending gym rat, heavily tattooed Jungkook—doing homework.

But then you're feeling bad again, knowing surely you'll be a distraction to his day.

"Sure you don't wanna use your desktop for your coursework?"

"Nah, nah," he smiles and raises the tablet. "S'what I use in class. All my notes are on here."

It's the first you've discussed his studies. Didn't even realise he was still in school. Still so much to learn about one another. It's okay, though. You've all the time in the world.

"Watcha studying?"

He presses his lips together, not quite smiling. Finds it a little bit awkward talking about his endeavours, knowing that there is a weight that comes with a degree. Doesn't want to get one and then end up never using it in his life - kind of like you.

"Business and events. Study part-time. Had to work alongside it. In my final year."

"Oh wow," you say, genuinely surprised. You just never assumed he had any free time, because you only ever actually see him when he's busy. You've never seen him on a Tuesday and nor a Thursday, though, which is when he's in lectures. "That's impressive."

He rolls his dark eyes, but his smile is ever-present. He awkwardly sucks a little air between his teeth and knocks his head to the side. "It's not. Everyone has degrees these days."

You want to argue back, but then he's asking you about your degree, and how you ended up working in an art cafe. The answer is simple yet feels complex—a saturated job market is where you place your blame, but the internal feeling of inadequacy is why you actually think you never got one of the lucrative roles in your chosen industry. Just don't feel like you're good enough. It wasn't for a lack of trying.

He tells you it's impressive that you've got a degree, with a bit of a shit-eating smile, and it has you rolling your eyes, too. Makes you realise how dumb you sounded saying it to him.

"C'mon," he nods towards his desk. "Let's pick something to watch."

There's a casual nature to the way he lets you sit on his desk chair, chin resting upon your knees, as he leans over you; hand on the mouse, navigating through his desktop.

You ignore the fact he opens up chrome in incognito mode. He just hasn't deleted his history in, like, forever, and fears what could be on display. Knows that there's a high chance it could be something unsavoury. Could also still have a tab open with your name in the search bar.

He just got curious. That's all. No biggie.

His keyboard is one of the tippy-tappy kinds. Goes click-clack as he types. You don't know the name of the keyboard model, just know that you like stumbling across videos of them at two o'clock in the morning.

It sounds so comforting when Jungkook enters the web address. His password, too, and then your name into a new user, because he doesn't trust you not to fuck with his Netflix landing page.

He restricts your access to 'kids only,' for no reason other than to have you whining in his direction. He refuses to change it back. Tells you to suck it. Keeps it up until you pinch some of his hair between your fingers and threaten to pull.

"Alright, alright!" he exclaims in a hushed whisper, still conscious of Jimin in the next room over. He clicks through the settings and restores your access - but also then picks the ugliest-looking character he can find for your display picture, too. "There. Happy?"

"The happiest."

And somehow, it doesn't feel like a lie.

See, when Jungkook's focus is on you—his laugh in your ear, smile in your eye line—you forget the ache in your chest left by Jin.

He's a distraction, but not in the sense that Jimin was. Not how any of your hookups have been. He doesn't offer what they did - and he won't, which is likely why the distraction is so welcome by you.

He's sticking dry ramyeon in your cracks and sanding it down. It's not perfect, and it's not permanent, but it does alright for now.

You look over at him in the mirror by his window, intently observing him as he gets to grips with his notes. There's a swell in your chest. It's so nice to have a friend. To not have expectations. To have someone value having you around for no ulterior motive.

Jungkook doesn't really think much of it. He likes having you around, too. Likes your company. Likes that he doesn't have to worry about you crushing on him, because Jimin's already taken your fancy. Likes the lack of pressure.

Doesn't like it so much when you start asking him about his origami birds again a little while later.

You've just finished an episode of some crime drama he doesn't recognise, but didn't choose to start the next one up. Instead, you waltz to the end of his bed and lie down to look at the folded figurines.

You get why Jungkook seems to like doing it so much. There's a subdued serenity to their soft movements in the stream of air blowing from his aircon unit.

"How'd you make them?" You ask, eyes concentrating up at them. They're two-tone—white on top, black from beneath. All the same. Uniform. Identical.

He knows what you're asking about, so he doesn't look up from the notes he's making. "Easily."

"You're the worst," you say, and he can almost hear the fact you're smiling.

"Nah," he retracts his statement as he glances over towards you. "Really wanna know how?"

You turn your head to meet his gaze. He looks far more awake, now. "Obviously."

He shrugs. Has that shit-eating grin on his face again. "Folded some paper."

"I'm leaving," you say, and yet you don't move a muscle.

"Jimin's still in the living room," he reminds you.

And so you decide to play up to the narrative he's already decided for you and his housemate. "Maybe I'll just go to his room for round two."

"Told you it wouldn't just be a one-time thing."

"Literally fuck off," you laugh, knowing there's no way you'll ever win against Jeon Jungkook.

"It's my bedroom, where exactly am I meant to fuck off to?"

"The floor."

And so he does. Takes his iPad, sticks his apple pen behind his ear and crosses his legs on the shagpile rug that's next to his bed. He's challenging you as he raises his brows.

You don't wanna bite the bait. "God, you're so ridiculous."

"You love it," he jokes, and then he realises that he might be flirting a little bit, so he tries to draw it back. Decides that maybe it would be good to tell you why he's got them up. You shared a lot last night. His turn, now.

"No, I... I dated a girl for a bit who would always fold things up into butterflies. Guess I wanted her to think we had a similar quirk, or something like that."

He's so sweet that it's devastating. Must have broken his fair share of hearts, you think.

"Did she fall for it?"

You know you would have.

"She never knew," he admits. A blush creeps across his cheeks and atop his nose. Pretty. "It was a bit of a weird situation."

"You? Weird? Gasp. Sounds unlikely."

"Shut up," he laughs, briefly meeting your gaze before looking down at his hands. "No, we were friends for the longest time. Still are, I guess. Same group of friends, at least. We were never official. Just a couple of friends who fucked about for a bit. Anyways, to cut a long story short, things didn't work out. So. She hasn't been here to see them."

"But you're still friends?"

Depends on how you define friends, he thinks. There was never any big fight. The last time he saw her—a night out to celebrate another friend's birthday—they'd spent the entire night goofing around together.

It's funny, really, how Jungkook thinks you're the epitome of stars, but he's never had more in his eyes than when he looked at her.

You've never seen him like that. The only time you see stars in his eyes is when you catch your own reflection.

You think it would be nice, though. Think he'd look sweet all loved up, boyish and bashful in the presence of someone whose beauty encapsulates everyone around them. To see him in love would almost feel like experiencing it yourself.

"Kinda," he shrugs. "Don't see her much. She's got a boyfriend up in Seoul. Spends most of her time there."

The melody of his voice is melancholic. He doesn't sound regretful. Maybe a little resentful. Sad, more than anything. It's a shame.

"You really liked her?"

Jungkook decides he's said enough. He puts on his best smile and shakes his head. Plays it off like it's no big deal. Pretends as if he didn't make a single-at-thirty marriage pact with her. Acts like he doesn't wish things had worked out differently; like he doesn't kind of hope he'll still be single at thirty, just in case she is, too.

"Why are we even talking about this? Really doesn't matter," he says, voice a little harsher than he intends. You feel guilty for pushing the subject. Glad to know him a little better, mind you. "I think I get it, though. Your whole... never staying thing."

He's the first person to say that to you. Everyone else has made you feel a little weird for it; as if your one-night-stands are somehow even sleazier because of it.

Your voice is quiet as you look at your hands. "You do?"

"Kind of," he shrugs. "I always stay, but only cause I only tend to fuck girls I actually like. I just... since her I haven't really let it get that far. Scared of staying and then the girl leaving, like she did, I guess. You 'n' me? We're two sides of the same coin. Doesn't really matter, though does it?"

Jungkook surprises you. You'd have never thought him to be as much of a defeatist as he appears to be, now.

"No," you acknowledge as he comes back to sit on his bed. He lays down, head by your ankles, feet by your head. The birds above him are none the wiser of their impact on him. "It's just, I came to you crying over my ex last night, so it'll be nice to have a heads up if you're gonna come crying to me."

There's humour in your voice, and he appreciates it. Likes that he can be serious with you, but that you try and lighten the mood for him. He doesn't like talking about things like this. Always gets a heaviness in his chest. Only ever had a panic attack once, but he remembers how it started. Remembers it feeling a lot like this.

"She's not an ex. We never dated, so. Won't be crying. Don't worry."

You both know that titles count for nothing. Both know he cried plenty.

"Ouch," you grimace, to which he just smiles, now. No point in letting himself dwell upon it all.

"It is what it is."

"Bit more than that," you counter, because apparently you don't know when to shut up. It's not that you want him to have to rehash his bad memories. You just think they're eating him up. Think it will do him good to exhale.

He hums in confusion, the noise light and airy. Almost like he's chirping. Maybe he's secretly one of his little paper birds in disguise.

"Well, if it was enough to put you off dating for good," you rationalise. You know why he's downplaying it, but he'll do himself no favours by living in denial. "It shouldn't be dismissed as nothing."

"Not for good," he objects, and taps your head with his foot. You bat him away, but there's a weightlessness to the way you both start laughing. "Just for now."

"How long has it been?"

"Does it matter?"

"No."

He kind of hates how many questions you ask. Kind of likes it, too. Likes that you don't know the Jungkook that came before her. Likes that you never had to see him when he was struggling with it.

The only person that had ever seen it was Jimin. So good at putting on a brave face, the rest of their friends barely knew. Even she didn't realise how badly she hurt him. It's why she still tries to be his friend.

Makes sense. They were best friends. Always said things would never change. In her eyes, they haven't.

"Just over a year," he finally sighs. "Confessed last spring. Was also subsequently rejected, but not till the summer."

You chirp in confusion now. Think about how long it must have fucked with him, never knowing where he stood. You feel awful for him.

"Well, she said she wasn't sure what she wanted. Anyways, ended up not being me. And so now, I never let myself get that deep into things. Don't wanna repeat history. Make the same bad decisions. Y'know?"

It's the SparkNotes version.

He won't bore you with the way he accidentally said he loved her after one too many shots, and how she'd told him that he didn't mean it - only for him to fuck her that evening like he really did. Won't tell you how she asked him about it in the morning, and when Jungkook nervously asked, "Well, do you want me to be in love with you?", she'd said, "No. I think that would ruin things."

And so he'd just laughed, and told her good. Said he'd never be in love with someone as ugly as her with a smile on his face reserved for only the most beautiful of people.

He won't tell you how she began to playfight with him, and how he ended up fucking her again. Fucking her like he meant it. Fucking her like she put the stars in the sky and stole the wind from his sails just to turn the tides. Fucking her like he never had done before. Fucking her like she wasn't just a friend, and he wasn't just a little horny.

The difference was, sober now, she felt it. Felt his intent. Knew that his slip-up had been the product of a fall.

He was confused, but so was she. He hadn't meant to fall—but she hadn't meant to trip him. No one was to blame.

And so he just blames himself. Shies away from love, 'cause he thinks that maybe he isn't right for it. If even the person who knew him better than he knew himself couldn't bring herself to love him, then what hope did he have?

"God, what's wrong with us?" He laughs, still tapping the side of your head with his foot. It's annoying, but you let him.

"Fear of intimacy and fear of rejection," you muse. "Make quite the pair."

He smiles in such a way that it doesn't feel like a smile, but he hopes that the hormones will play tricks on him. Make him at least think he's happy. "Anyways, I keep the birds up as a reminder, I guess."

"Of?"

He just shrugs. "Gotta set people free."

It's a nice idea. One you think you'd quite like to indulge in, too.

"You got any more paper?"

"Fuckin' loads. Accidentally ordered, like, a thousand sheets."

Your voice is delicate as you say, "Show me how to make them?"

There's hesitancy from Jungkook. Not sure he wants to share such a personal part of himself.

But then he thinks maybe it would be nice. Thinks that just because he wants to be alone romantically, doesn't mean he has to be lonely.

He tells you where the paper is—the top drawer beneath his desk—and begins to instruct you. They're simple enough. Only a few steps. He's made so many that he relies mostly on muscle memory.

Your first attempts are terrible. He questions whether or not you really work at an art cafe, because he can't comprehend that you're so bloody awful at crafting. You tell him that painting is an entirely different discipline, and he tells you that you're making excuses.

Eventually, though, you get the hang of it. Can make them without getting paper cuts. Almost. He still laughs every time you wince and mutter 'shit' beneath your breath.

You're about ten birds deep into your new flock when you walk to his desk to retrieve a pen. Jungkook raises a brow, catching the biro effortlessly as you toss it towards him.

"Can't just set people free," you say, an idea brewing in your head. "Gotta set your fears free, too. It's the only way you'll get over them."

"Okay," he bites. "So?"

"So: go on," you nod towards the sheet of paper in his hand. "One of the things you're scared of. Rejection right? What are scared to do because of that?"

It's a big question. He's not even entirely sure he knows the answer.

And so he deflects. "What are you scared of?"

You take a moment to think, uncapping a pen with your teeth and scrawling down an answer on the sheet of paper. When you're done, pen cap still between your teeth, you turn the page to show him your answer: Staying the night after a hook up.

"I don't do it," you say candidly, as if it's news to either of you. "What don't you do?"

He takes a moment now. Really considers how his complexes conflict with his life. Some are easier to confront than others, though, so he scribbles one down and holds it up: following girls back on instagram.

A smile tugs at your lips. "Sorry?"

"Well, what if they strike up a conversation in my DMs?" He says as if it's a totally rational and reasonable response.

"You followed me, though?"

"It's different. I was just trying to get you your phone back—and not being funny, Byeol, you'd just fucked Jimin? Didn't really think you'd be trying it on with me?"

You snicker a little. It's kind of nice how he sees you as this strange entity all because you got a little frisky with Jimin. Writes you off. Doesn't consider you a 'girl' anymore, apparently.

But all you can do is laugh and say, "Yeah, fair enough. Suppose that's true. Alright, now you're done, fold it up."

You both do it in unison, the folds coming easily now that he's shown you the ropes. He's almost a little bit impressed that you finish just a second or so after him. Isn't actually impressed, 'cause it's the simplest origami known to man, but it's sweet how pleased you seem to be with yourself. Cute.

"And set it free," you finish, tossing it down into the pile of birds gathering by the foot of his bed.

"And set it free," he nods with a grin, twiddling his lip ring with his tongue as his gaze lands on yours; his bird landing in the pile.

Such a simple act, and yet it is freeing.

"Again?" he asks, to which you repeat his word back to him.

"Again."

The pair of you sit in comfortable silence, scrawling out your fears onto the papers. You choose to write all of your fears out first, and then fold them up. Jungkook writes a fear, folds, and then repeats it. Different methods, same end goals.

He runs out of fears before you do, but it's okay. Not like it's a competition. He thinks it's interesting. Wonders what you're hiding up there behind your starry eyes.

"What now?" he asks as you toss your final bird into the pile.

Your purse your lips together, contemplating the next step. There's only one that really makes sense.

"You got any string?"

And of course, he does. Not only did he order far too many sheets of paper, but also far too much string. He gets it from the drawer beneath his desk, and a couple of rolls of tape. It's washi, dark grey, and he worries that it's been sitting for so long that it could have lost its tackiness.

You don't seem phased though as you stand on his bed and struggle to reach the ceiling. It's all very endearing. He comes to stand behind you, and doesn't really think much of it as he reaches for your hips and pulls you off of his bed. At least, he doesn't think anything of it until you shriek a little in surprise - and then he's covering your mouth with one of his hands, the other still on your hip.

"Shush, shush, shush," he coos with a small laugh as you swot him away. "You stick the string to the birds. I'll put them up."

Routines come as bread and butter to the pair of you. It's so casual how you work together, like the tides and the moon, it just... works. It doesn't take long once you fall into a pattern—string, stick, pass, stick—and soon enough, his bed has a canopy of so many birds that it's almost hysterical.

"Got a whole flock now," you smile as you both come to lay back down, heads by each other's ankles. Opposites. In tandem. Yin and Yang.

It's kind of a mess, but in such a way that it feels entirely right. There are a few incredibly lopsided birdies, all thanks to you, but Jungkook finds a certain charm to them. Likes how you somehow managed to make perfect birds and also ones that belonged in the bin—and how it was those slightly wonky ones that you seem to like the most.

It's as you're praising how pretty the birds look that the washi tapes loosens on one of them, falling onto your tummy.

Jungkook groans. "Told you the tape wasn't strong enough."

You scrunch your nose. He's right, but you don't want to acknowledge it. Don't like 'told you so' moments—so instead, you pretend as if it was meant to be.

"Must be that you're ready to set that fear free."

"Hmm?"

"Well, it definitely isn't one of mine," you grin, holding the bird up to look at it. The folds are sharp and pointed. Pristine, almost. It's too well-made to be one of yours, so you pass it over to him. "What does it say?"

"None of your business," he declares, holding it tight to his chest.

But he's curious too, and just laughs when he opens it. Holds it open. Gives you a peak.

Following girls back on Instagram.

"You've already seen it," he says, explaining why he doesn't mind you looking at it.

"And I still don't understand why you think it's such a huge thing," you tell him softly - not because you want to invalidate his fears, but because you want to understand them.

"A lot of girls find me through the club's Instagram," he admits, sensing that your confusion would only be remedied with honesty. "Feels a bit sleazy to follow them back when they were probably drunk."

"It's an insta follow back, Kook. You're hardly making a move," you say. "It really doesn't have to be a big deal. If they're already following you, then you're the one rejecting them."

"But what if"—

"But nothing. Gimmie your phone," you say—and you're surprised when he does. No hesitation. Makes you think that maybe just he needs a push. Wants this.

He's pleased when he notices a slight sparkle to your chipped nail varnish. It's midnight blue, and you bought it because it reminds you of a twilight sky, but it just confirms that you're made of stardust to Jungkook. The shine prevails even when you're without your trusty glitter.

You pull up Instagram and head to his notifications. He's got a solid bounty of new followers. 68 since he last checked.

"Okay, what about her?" You pause your scroll on a brunette—slim build, hair cropped to just above her shoulders. She's wearing a little glitter too, from the looks of things. Jungkook wonders if that's why she stood out for you. Wonders if maybe you saw a little bit of yourself in her.

"Yeah, she's pretty," he admits, but glances over to you to check he isn't speaking in a way that makes him seem like a dick. He doesn't want you to think he'd objectifying anyone. "I'm not so sur-"

He doesn't have a chance. You've already pressed on the little blue follow button.

"See! Not so hard."

Jungkook disagrees.

There's a feeling in the pit of his stomach. What if the girl shows up at the bar and tries to strike up a conversation? Then what? The first step is all very well and good, but you seem to have forgotten that his life goes on after the press of a follow button.

But then the moment passes, and he realises that the world is still turning just as it always has been. Nothing has changed. Maybe it is okay.

And so he takes a little bit of a lead.

"Who next?" he asks, trusting your decisions.

"Her?" your thumb points towards another brunette. She's gorgeous. Face straight out of a magazine, body off a catwalk. How on earth he wouldn't have noticed her at the club is beyond you. She's not the kind you'd forget easily.

"I remember her," he says, confirming your suspicions. He does notice girls, and he does pay an interest in them. You think it's sad that he's stopping himself from pursuing any of them.

His voice is flat as his lips sneer a little, though. Had noticed her for all the wrong reasons.

"She was a grade-A wanker to Yeonjun," he explains. "Literally was last night. He messed up her order, and instead of just asking for a redo like a normal human being, she pretended to knock it over. Got vodka lemonade all over the counter, which is like, not an issue, but when it's peak time and you do it just to be a dick? Yeah. I served her for the rest of the night so he wouldn't have to deal with her. She follows me?"

You nod, a little embarrassed that you suggested her. It almost feels like you're the one being scolded. You kind of like seeing him like this, though. He looks good a little heated. It's so different to how mild-mannered he typically is.

"Force her to unfollow me."

The look on his face as you glance over at him is hard to read. He faces you, eyes focused on yours. They dip quickly to where your mouth rests ajar in surprise, then back up. "What?"

"Nothing," you laugh. "Just... I dunno. Strong morals."

"That a bad thing?"

"Not in the slightest," you say, voice soft, smile faint but sincere.

He goes to speak, but stops himself. Changes the topic. "Who next?"

And so you scroll, because you don't want to dwell. You make your way through a few of his followers, almost like you're playing an insta-tinder-hybrid.

"Oh, what the fuck," you snort as you reach a profile towards the bottom of the list.

"Hmm?" He asks as he looks at the profile you tap through to.

Ciara, her profile reads, and the instant you see her tight curls that delicately frame her face, dyed a caramel blonde to contrast her dark eyes, you recognise her. Like most of the girls in his notifications, she has the kind of beauty to leave an impression.

Unlike the last girl you'd done a deep dive on, she actually is a sweetheart, you think.

From what you remember, at least.

"Ciara," you hum, scrolling through her feed. It's dappled with pictures of friends, books in coffee shops and adventures from her time in Korea. She's Irish—not that her profile really gives it away—and you can almost remember the way her accent tastes. "It's definitely the club where she first saw you."

"She did?" He asks, not really sure how you know this with such certainty.

"Uh-huh. I met her a few weeks ago."

Jungkook doesn't interrupt. He senses more coming.

And then you shrug.

"Hooked up with her, actually."

"Oh," he says with a little surprise. Doesn't sound negative, but it doesn't sound entirely positive, either. You glance over to find him looking at you, and question his surprise. "I just didn't know. That's all."

And then you laugh. "Why do men always seem to think women's lives revolve around the male species?"

"I don't," he quickly protests, not wanting you to think ill of him.

Though he's pretty set on his sexuality, he's also no stranger to a little experimentation. Wouldn't judge anyone for their sexual endeavours, nor who they choose to engage in said endeavours with. Consenting adults are consenting adults.

"Literally just didn't know," he adds on. "It's no different to you being surprised when you found out I was studying for my degree."

You narrow your eyes but it's all in jest. You accept his response. Have had far worse in the past.

"Do you mind me asking?" He continues, getting a read on your expression before he clarifies. Doesn't wanna overstep the mark, but also isn't asking you anything he wouldn't be comfortable with you asking him back. "How you, like, identify?"

It's delicate, how he phrases it. Tender. Airy. Makes you feel quite safe, actually. His voice is so calm and neutral, that he may as well be asking what you'd like for dinner.

You simply shrug, shoulders lifting and then pressing back down into his duvet. It's something you've given a lot of thought, but always find hard to draw conclusions on. "Always just used to say bi."

"Used to say?"

"Had a boyfriend for a year, so people never cared to ask," you purse your lips, reminded of your least favourite aspect of dating Seokjin: erasure. Not just of your sexuality, but of your identity outside of the relationship. You were 'Jin's girlfriend' to so many people. You hated it. Wanted to be a person in your own right. "Maybe it was self-inflicted, but people seemed to forget I had a life before him. Maybe I did, too. When you lose your sense of self, it's hard to define it, yanno?"

Jungkook nods. He doesn't entirely understand, but tries. Recognises it was difficult for you. Feels bad. "Sorry."

"Not your fault, is it? Anyway, it's okay. I'm trying to rediscover myself, almost? Trying not to tie myself to anything too definitively. Scared I'll get it wrong."

"You're allowed to not know," he says. His brows crease above the bridge of his nose like they always do whenever he's speaking with a little passion. "And you're also allowed to know and not want to define it. Fuck what anyone else thinks."

"Either way," you deflect, not wanting to dwell. "Would be weird if you started chirpsing a girl I've been with."

"Agreed," he laughed. "Would make a double date with Jimin interesting."

"Jesus, give up the Jimin agenda," you smile. "It's not gonna happen again."

"Sureeee. Okay, next girl," he says, but is interrupted by a second origami bird falling.

It's on the outskirts of the flock - the one impacted the most by the breeze of the aircon - and Jungkook can tell immediately who made it.

"Oh this is definitely one of yours," he laughs, holding it up to study it. "How is the wing so bloody wonky?"

"He's poorly," you pout. "Like Jacquimo from Thumbelina."

Jungkook doesn't even pretend to know what you're referencing, so you just tell him you'll show him later. It's one of your favourite films. He says he'll watch it if you win a game of chess against him. You've no idea how to play. Tell him your agent will be in touch to schedule a tournament. He says he'll be waiting.

And then he's thinking. Voicing his thoughts. "We faced one of my fears"—

"And no one died."

"Exactly, no one died," he smiles. "So let's face one of yours."

"Wait!" You say quickly, going to grab the bird from his grasp, but he holds it above his head. You panic. "Look, Kook, I didn't plan on you ever seeing any of mine."

"So?"

"So... " you cringe. "Fear of intimacy."

"Sooo?"

"So... intimacy??"

"I'm lost?"

God, he couldn't be more of a boy if he tried. You half think that sometimes he plays dumb just to get you squirming. If he does, it works.

"Some of them aren't exactly PG," you say, your face scrunching even further up, as if you're preparing for a shot. Alcohol or medicinal. Doesn't matter which. Both would be less painful than this.

The way Jungkook laughs has you covering his mouth. It's a role reversal, with you reminding him Jimin is just next door.

"Sorry, sorry," he says as he recovers his breath. His teeth are on show, nose blushed, skin dewy. He's so pretty like this, you think. Handsome when he's happy. "I just—how bad can it be?"

The look on his face as he opens it says it all.

Yep.

You groan.

"Jesus Christ, Byeol."

Pretty fucking bad.

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

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some-pers0n · 6 months

Text

Know When To Hold Em'

Fandom: WoF

Characters: OC Heavy, but Blister makes a small appearance :)

CW: Nothing

Summary: A couple of dragons are hanging out and playing a game of poker. Right when they're about to finish however, a young dragonet walks in with a stash of money.

Word Count: 2.0k

A/N: I was originally just gonna keep this for myself and the Wiki, but honestly I really like this headcanon and I'm showing it to you all.

Mulga sipped his brightsting cider, glancing back up to his fellow guards. "So, whatcha gonna do?" He tapped his talons on the table. "Gopher, you're looking a bit rough there."

"Hm? Me? What makes you say that?" he replied, wiping away that slightly nervous expression to a forced, overly-confident grin.

"I dunno, just saw you shaking in your claws a little." He looked at his pot, only a couple of coins left. "Not much there, huh."

A moment of stillness before the SandWing sighed. "Fine. I fold." He slid his cards back to the dealer.

"Atta' boy. Probably best for you right now."

"Oh shut up..." Glare grumbled.

Mulga relaxed his shoulders a little. It was supposed to be a nice little night after all, or at least one where he could make some cash off of these dragons. The three of them had a rather boring day, so they decided to come around to Gopher's uncle's friend's cousin's tavern for a nice of gambling.

It was a run-down and rustic hole-in-the-wall type of shack. Dark and dreary with a couple cracks in the roof, showing the night sky above. It was lit dimly by candles and jars of fireflies. It smelt of dust and age more than anything. The dealer once mentioned how this place had been around since the foundation of Scorpion Den way back when, and Mulga believed it.

The cards in Mugla's hands were made from clay, hardened with time and age. The numbers and inscriptions of kings and queens, while worn and hard to see in the dim light, held a charm to them with their homemade nature.

That and also he got one fire hand. A pair of twos, with the remaining ones showing up in the drawn cards. Four of a kind. Hard to beat that. He was sitting there comfortably, knowing that he could do just about anything. Of course, Glare could always have another trick up his wing, but he had doubts. Right on his smug face held the same worried glint in his eyes that any experienced poker player could sniff out.

"Alright," the dealer said. They flipped over the final card, the river, and it showed a simple, disposable seven.

"Check." Glare tapped the table.

"Check." Mulga revealed his hand. "What'dja have there, then?" Mulga smiled.

Glare furrowed his eyebrows. He practically threw his cards down. A measly five and a three.

"As predicted, I win. Again." Mulga grabbed his earnings, pulling it over towards his section. A heap of gold coins, glittering in the candlelight. Oh, they were just beautiful. A wonderful sight for such sore eyes.

"So, what do you wanna do? Play another round? Maybe you'll get lucky this time."

"I dunno," Gopher muttered. "I'm getting kinda tired. I don't think Topaz'll like us being out here for too long-"

"Who cares what the captain thinks? It's the night out with the boys. Real dragons. When's the last time you've both been out like this? A couple of months at least, huh?"

"...fine. Sure. One more game." Glare grumbled. "But that's it. You aren't taking any more of my money, snake."

"I don't know. Like I said, maybe you'll get lucky this time around. Win big. All luck's in the cards, no?" Mulga gave a toothy grin.

"So," the dealer began, "are we all in agreement? One more round?"

"Yeah, why not," Gopher said.

"Definitely." Mulga nodded.

"Mhm..." Glare scoffed.

"Yes, one more round would be nice." A voice came from behind. Mulga leaned over, blinking in surprise when he saw who it was.

A little dragonet. She couldn't have been older than two years. Her pales looked white in the low lighting, with black diamond patterns trailing down her neck and all the way to her tail. Her scales were well-kept and free from the dust and grime you'd see on regular dragonets.

Yet, her eyes... There was something about them that Mulga couldn't place his talon on. Something off. The same pitch-black that all SandWings had, but there was a serpentine quality to them that, strangely enough, made the atmosphere in the room thicker.

"Where'd you come from?" Glare asked. "You aren't supposed to be in here."

"Oh, apologizes for coming in so suddenly. I saw you three were wrapping up and, well, I wanted to simply play a round. See how to play."

"This is a tavern, missy. Younglings like yous aren't supposed to be in here." The dealer sighed. "It's late. You should be getting sleep."

"Oh, pleaseeee... I promise it will be quick."

"I don't think I can exactly-" The Dealer was cut off by the heavy sound of a bag being lifted up and onto the playing table. The dragonet had tossed a bloated sack up there, the little drawstring around the top loosening. Inside was a treasure trove of polished coins and even a couple of precious gems. Diamonds, rubies, even a few emeralds spilled out along with the golden doubloons.

"I want to play," she repeated, her voice much colder and firm in tone.

The fellow dragons looked at each other. This kid can't be serious, right? She probably just coloured a bunch of rocks to be like this. Maybe they're fake or something. But, the more Mulga looked at them, the more he could tell that, no, this was genuine. What kind of dragonet could get all of this stuff? Perhaps she nicked it all from dope. Even then, was she really going to bet with this? That seems far too stupid.

Which played exactly in Mulga's favour. All he needed to do was win one game and he would get some of these earnings.

Mulga laughed. "C'mon, kid. I think you deserve a seat at the playing table." He traced a circle in the spot next to him with his barb.

"Thank you, sir," she chirped. She had to stretch her neck to even properly see the dealer's table. She tapped on the edge of it. "May I have my cards?"

"Ight, so, now we're playing." The dealer shuffled the deck, spreading out two cards to each dragon. Mulga glanced at his. A four and a nine. Looks terrible from the get-go, but perhaps there'll be something later on that makes work of it.

He had to play this round. The chance for any of those gems was too much for him to ignore.

"Excuse me," the dragonet asked. "What do we do first?"

"Oh, you show your cards to everyone," Glare said.

"I know I'm not supposed to do that!" she snapped. "But...what next?"

"Well, you call. Calling means that you want to play this round with the cards you have."

"Oh. Call?" she tapped her talons on the table. "I saw you doing that earlier. What does it mean?"

"Courtesy. Just a lil' thing you do." The dealer answered. They looked back to the others. "So, what now boys?"

The three SandWings looked at each other. One by one, they all called. They were all in this for the money. They threw in a couple of coins for the starting bet and finally began.

The dealer pulled three cards out for the flop. A jack, a nine, and a seven. Okay, he's got a pair now. That's something of note.

Mulga looked at the other dragons. They were sweating coconuts, looking at the giant pile of gold and crystals that the dragonet had. He chuckled lightly as he threw in a couple more coins. "Betting five."

"Call." Gopher threw in the same amount.

"Raise to ten." Glare threw in ten coins.

Finally, they all looked towards the dragonet. She looked so confused and innocent. "I put in money now?" she asked.

"Yes."

"All in." She pushed the bag forward.

Mulga nearly spat out his drink. She was betting it all? Everything in that bag? Moons above, he had just hit the jackpot! It took every fibre of his being not to start laughing.

"...alright then." The dealer pulled the turn card. A ten.

"Going all in as well," Mulga said. He pushed his pile of coins towards the bag, staring the dragonet right in the eyes. "What'll it be for the rest of you?"

"Folding." The both of them said in sync. They tossed down their cards. All that's left was Mulga and this small, tiny dragonet.

"Check," she said.

"You're staying in, huh?" he asked. "I mean, you could fold like the rest of them."

"I don't want to."

"Alright then. Whatever you say, little lizard."

Finally, the dealer pulled the river. A jack.

"Check." Mulga grinned.

"Check." The dragonet tapped on the table.

He chuckled. "I'm sorry," he said, flipping over his cards. He had a pair of nines. "What do you have there then?"

She flipped over hers and Mulga's heart dropped.

It was a queen and nine.

"A straight," she said with a smug, cocky grin on her face. "I do believe that beats your measly little pair." She grabbed the bag, stuffing her earnings into it. "Thanks for the game, but I'll be leaving now. I think my mother would be upset to see me out this late." She giggled.

"No, wait, hold on!" Mulga hissed. "You don't get to leave with all my money. That was supposed to be mine! You tricked me!"

"Tricked?" She tilted her head. "I don't believe I tricked you. Luck's in the cards, is it not?" And with that, she turned away and walked out the tavern's door.

"Blazing scales," Glare laughed. "What kinda kid was that? Managed to sweep ya of everything."

"I-" Mulga blinked. Who even was that? What kind of dragonet just waltzes into a tavern, takes every last coin he has in one round, and then leaves? Where did she get the money? Where are her parents? Who even is she?

----

Princess Burn was just about to put the finishing touches on this new project when she heard the sounds of wings flapping from behind her. She put down her scalpel and turned around, wrapping her barb around her talons. "What is it now?"

She looked out the window to see a dragon approaching her tower. A bag was clutched in her talons and a confident, wicked grin was painted upon her face.

"For moons sake, Blister!" she snapped. "You know you're not supposed to be out this late!" She backed away, letting her get through the window.

"Yes, but does that really matter?" Blister touched down. "Look." She dropped the bag, letting its contents spill onto the floor. "Just from using that one little diamond of yours, I've managed to score this in a single night." She smirked. "Thanks for that, by the way."

She sorted through the pile of coins, picking up the largest diamond out of all of them. "Remember, I get a fifth of it all because of it."

"Oh, of course! I wouldn't forget about that part."

"Why do you even do this?" Burn asked as she picked up a talonful of coins. "It doesn't mean anything."

"I think it's funny." Blister picked up a ruby, looking it over. "You haven't seen what it's like. All these dragons convinced that I'm helpless and have no idea what I'm doing. Then, right when they think they've won it all, shark them. Take everything for what they've got."

"...fun."

Blister scoffed. "You wouldn't get it. You think cutting up insects and rats and hanging them on walls is fun."

"Taxidermy and pinning insects is not 'cutting them up'," Burn said defensively. "And, like you said, different strokes. I like fighting and researching. You like...doing this." She motioned to the bag.

"Mh-hm. Well, when I'm queen I know I'll be the richest of them all."

"I'm still the eldest. I'll be the queen."

"We'll see about that." She grabbed the bag and walked out of the room. "Thanks for your help," she said as she closed the door.

Burn grumbled. She was thankful to have some coins, but it still bothered her how Blister went about doing this. There was something to her that wasn't quite right, and she definitely knew she needed to keep an eye on her at all times. Sooner or later, she's going to plot something against their entire family, and by the moons will Burn do everything to keep it from happening.

#SP-writing #wof fanfic #wof #wings of fire #blister wof

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featherlouise · 11 months

Note

Wanna share her backstory? 👀 I'm intrigued

Okok I'm gonna preface this by saying that it'd currently 4am so this might be completely incoherent. I hope it makes sense?? At least a little?? Ig ur about to find out

(ALSO idk what the writing style is here, I think it changes like 3 times lmfao)

For all higher beings, by far the worst thing that can happen to you is being forgotten. It's a fate worse than death. It's learning what it feels like to be reverred, worshipped, loved by mortals, and then slowly losing everything, watching everything you'd earned slip away, with no way to bring it back. And you're left clawing at the remains, trying to keep something, anything, and still watching as it slips through your fingers.

It's one thing to be a young god, with no following to speak of but your entire life ahead of you. You don't yet know how the devotion of mortals feels, and every part of you is itching to find out.

It's a completely different thing to have grown your following over the course of thousands of years, built your entire civilization from the ground up, only for it to crumble.

There comes a certain point where a god's power is reliant on the faith and devotion of their subjects. They have a baseline amount of power at first, but as their following grows, so does their power, and if their following sinks,, you get the picture.

This will be important

On the grounds of what will one day become the Kingdom of Hallownest, there are 3 ruling gods: Unn, and her mosskin, the Radiance, and her moths, and the Shade Lord, and their people.

It is in a god's nature to conquer

So, when the Radiance saw the Shade Lord's people living in darkness, she thought, 'wouldn't they enjoy a little sunlight?' and challenged the Shade Lord for his land and his people.

I won't go into the details, but it was a long, gruelling battle, and while both sides sustained severe injuries, the Radiance ultimately emerged victorious.

Unfortunately, most of the Shade Lord's people were killed in the battle, and the corpse of the once powerful Lord of Shades is left where he fell, eventually becoming what will later be known as the abyss.

In the aftermath, the Radiance is left injured, and try as she might, she is unable to heal the areas where the void has touched her, leaving her skin cracked and peeling like century old paint. Beneath the skin she sheds lies a layer of void, where only the barest hints of her light can shine through.

As one of the first and only gods to take on a mortal form in order to appeal to her followers, her moths are used to seeing her frequently, both in their dreams and in the waking world. They're used to her mortal appearance, have even built statues in her likeness to kneel and pray at, and leave offerings at the foot of.

What will happen if they see her like this?

A shadow of her former self, unlike anything they've seen before

Will they run in terror?? Find a new god to worship??

It's the fear that stays her hand.

She stops showing up in people's dreams, stops visiting the villages and towns she helped build, stops soothing their nightmares and warming their days with her light.

In turn, the people stop bringing her offerings, stop praying, stop believing.

Sure, they still know she exists, from the stories passed down for generations. But the Radiance they know of today is nothing like the fairytales.

No mortal has laid their eyes upon her for centuries.

And then.

A young Wyrm shows his face, having recently shed his monstrous form in favour of a more humanoid design.

It's not as perfect as Her disguise once was, he still has too many arms, the feet are wrong, he has wings?? For some reason?? And she's pretty sure she's never seen a mortal glow before, especially with such a cold, artificial light.

This young upstart doesn't know the first thing about amassing a following, clearly.

She has nothing to worry about.

But then

Her moths become drawn to his light, pale and cold as it may be. They're drawn to his promises of free will, of becoming whoever you want to be, in this Hallowed nest of his.

How. Dare. He.

How dare he steal her followers away like that, they have no idea what they're doing. They're HERS, and HERS ALONE.

so.

She challenges the Pale Wyrm, for his people and his land, as is the done thing.

And once again, I won't go into the gorey details but I will say this: the Radiance did not expect to fall that day. Aware as she was that her following had dwindled, she did not realise in her rage that her power was but a fraction of what it once was.

Her physical form was destroyed, but as the god dreams, was able to exist in her realm, with a view of the outside world.

Her own realm had become her prison.

At first, she was scared, sad, confused as to how this could have happened.

But as the centuries passed, and she was forgotten even further, barely a mentioned name in the history books, she watched as the Pale Usurper stayed in his palace, didn't even deign to show his face.

And yet. His people were as adoring as ever.

Where was this devotion when she was at her weakest?? What has this Wyrm done to deserve their unconditional love??? What was so wrong with her that she didn't deserve the same treatment???

And how DARE her moths show more reverence to Him than to Her. After all she did for them. After soothing their nightmares, warming their days, answering all their prayers.

She devised a plan, that would ensure the Pale Usurper would be forced to watch as his life's work is destroyed in front of him, just as she once was.

And she can even get back at the traitors who abandoned her.

Anyone else is just collateral damage.

All she needs to do now is wait, regain enough power to influence the outside world. And then she can strike.

#asks #THIS IS SO LONG #I HOPE ITS COHERENT ITS 4 AM NEARLY #the radiance #hollow knight gijinka #feather writes #hollow knight #uhh ik I wrote it with gijinkas in mind but if u wanna read it as buggy u can #just gotta substitute a few words I think

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lu-dao-writes · 2 years

Text

❝ [𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓲𝓰𝓱 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓜𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 (𝐖𝐈𝐏)] ❞

【𝒜/𝒩】: This is a work in progress that I started months back and just came back and looked at. I’m bored and wanna post something 🤷 lmao. In this one of my ocs is introduced and you get to see a bit of her personality. I’m hoping I’ll do more with this but I won’t push. Writing is hard and my job works my ass 🙂🥲. Also sorry about my grammar that shits hard too🤧🍷.

“Well, well if it isn’t the infamous shadowsinger of the Night Court~.”

The shadowsinger wasn’t expecting a voice to startle him the moment he landed on Dawn Court soil, his large body swinging to look behind himself and there stands a short faerie woman with dark ebony, plum tinted skin with light patches all over her body. The two things that catch Azriel’s attention is her pretty, fuchsia colored hair, and then his hazel eyes are drawn to her feet.

They’re large and deadly and match the color of her hair with large ivory claws idly tapping and lightly scraping the warm, smooth stone ground. The woman is a bit plump and curvy and dressed in a rose petal red shawl-like garment with gold threading that hangs off her left shoulder and gold colored cloth plants. The Illyrian warrior caught a glimpse of a tail swaying eagerly behind her and tried to find her eyes but found that he couldn’t with her butterfly locs in the way.

The woman has a mischievous smile on her face, full lips shiny with gloss. “I would ask why you’re the only one here, but I already know why, and I assure you that nothing is going to happen to you or your family.”

Azriel remains quiet, body still stiff as a board while his shadows swarm around him, nearly shielding his face from the short fae woman as he contacts his family.

She only continues to smile, it’s all too knowing and it slightly aggravates him.

“Are you the Emissary…?” he finally says, his voice quiet and smooth like velvet.

“Indeed, I am,” she replies with a small grin splitting her face, showing off her pearly white teeth, her canines being almost like fangs. “Also, it’s quite rude to spy in my home when Dawn hasn’t done a thing to you, you know?”

“My apologies… It's just precaution is all.”

“Right, of course~!,” she replies, hands resting on her wide hips.

The brown skinned man knew she didn’t believe him and that’s fine. “They should be coming shortly.”

The moment the words escape him the rest of the inner circle appear behind him, and he steps out of his High Lord brother and High Lady’s way, moving to stand beside Morrigan.

The grin that’s on the woman’s face grew, it looking a bit unsettling. “If it isn’t the High Lord and…,” she catches a glimpse at the crown that rested on Feyre’s head and a giddy giggle leaves her, “and I’m assuming High Lady? Welcome to the land of Dawn,” she says with a playful bow. “To all of you.”

Rhysand gives the ebony woman a charming smile and so does Feyre, but the fuchsia fae woman can see the twinge of nervousness.

“Ah, yes, you’re Noo, correct? It’s nice to meet you.” Rhysand offers her his hand, and they shake and Feyre and Noo do the same thing.

“Feyre, very nice to meet you as well.”

“Yes, charmed to meet you all, but let me take you to where everyone is. Day and Winter are already here, and there’s plenty of snacks and refreshments in there for you,” Noo informs them, turning her back towards them and guiding them into the mountain palace.

The sight of it all never gets old to Noo. Dawn palace is magnificent and graceful, truly a neutral force. Feeling the warm ground on her feet had her relaxed and feeling toasty, and smelling the many roses and peonies they passed by made her smile. This is home.

“Hope you all don’t mind the workout!” she calls over her shoulder with amusement as they climb up the spiraling stairwell.

“It’s no trouble!” Rhysand replies before going back to his silent conversation with his lady.

Soon they’re inside passing many rooms that were filled with tons of silk pillows of various sizes and plush carpeting, the smell of incense filling the long hallway.

“It’s just up ahead,” she explained, gazing at the pretty wisteria that decorated the archway in the meeting area.

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macamadamia · 5 months

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A Bet over a Game of Pool

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51611989

Ship: Soulless Sam Winchester/Sex Worker Dean Winchester

Rating: Explicit

Total Word Count: 1,759

When he went to Stanford he severed nearly all ties to his family and stopped being Sammy Winchester, brother and son, and became Samuel Wesson, Harvard graduate and junior law partner. His colleagues at the firm call him Soulless Sam behind his back. He’s come to this bar out in the boonies, slumming it and looking to blow off steam, and there’s only one man he’s interested in. Dean.

The bar is just the other side of seedy, and not the usual place Sam Wesson, youngest junior partner in the firm’s history and current star on the rise at Crowley Black and Adler, would usually choose to hang out.

The floor sticks to the soles of his loafers, and even though he’s dressed down for the night, the jeans and button up shirt he’s wearing cost more than most of the cars parked haphazardly in the badly lit lot outside.

He looks as out of place as he feels, but it’s the kind of place where you don’t pay too much attention to the people around you, so you don’t have any details to give the cops when they come asking questions.

It’s the kind of place Sam might have been at home in back before Stanford, before Harvard. Before he severed almost all ties with his past and stopped being John Winchester’s biggest disappointment, stopped being Sammy Winchester with the floppy hair and goodwill clothes, and became Samuel Wesson, top graduate in his class and most likely to end up a Justice of the Supreme Court.

In earshot, his colleagues call him the wunderkind and toast his successes, but he knows what they say about him behind his back and behind closed doors, and he knows what they actually think of him. He doesn’t spare it a thought though, he’s not out to make friends and there are worse things to be known as than Soulless Sam.

Sam weaves his way through a haze of alcohol fumes, low lighting, and the heavy thump-thump of swampy stomp music, heading towards the bar. A woman twice his age and then some stops him with a hand on his chest, long blood-red fingernails tapping to the beat of the music as she leans into his space with a smile and a husky-voiced proposition.

“You wanna go have some fun, dearie?” She’s probably aiming for seductive, but misses and hits predatory instead, pairing it with sharp eyes that sweep him from head to toe.

Sam lifts her hand, placing it back by her side. “Not tonight, you don’t have what I’m looking for.”

Her eyes narrow for a second, then she laughs, deep and throaty. “You’ll be wanting our Dean, then, dearie. Play nice with him, he’s a good boy.” She nods towards the bar.

Towards Dean.

He’s angled towards him, sipping from a bottle and watching the crowd, and Sam takes a moment to drink in the sight from a distance.

Heavy boots and dark jeans, ripped at the knees and thigh. Ripped Led Zep t-shirt and a flannel tied around his waist, black tattoo curling up over the top of his t-shirt towards his neck and down his arm towards his hand.

When he clocks Sam watching, he lifts his bottle and toasts him from across the room.

Sam weaves through the crowd, pulled toward Dean like a compass needle to north.

He’s only a few years older than Sam and it was clear he’d been a pretty boy once upon a time, a decade and a half of hard living had left a toll on his features. There are lines on his face, a scar on his forehead, and no softness in the glint of his eyes or the hard set of mouth.

“You lookin’ for a good time, kid?” he drawls, leaning back against the bar on his elbows. Sam’s eyes are drawn to the bare strip of skin visible above the low-slung jeans as his t-shirt rides up.

“I’m always up for a good time, if I like the company.”

Dean places his empty bottle on the bar, signalling for the barman. “Buy me a beer, and we can have some fun.” He slides off the bar stool and winds his way through the middle of the dance floor, heading towards the pool tables in the back.

Sam pays the barman – cash only, on this little trip out to the boonies – and follows. His eyes on Dean, he feels a stir of anger as someone on the densely packed floor reaches out and grabs Dean’s wrist as he passes. Words are exchanged, too far away to be heard, but Dean’s laughter rings out and reaches his ears. He grinds up against the unknown dancer for a few seconds, while hands grope his ass and chest.

Another flurry of hushed words and money changes hands. He throws a wink over his shoulder as he leaves, beckoning Sam to follow.

Sam seeks out the handsy dancer on his way through the crowd but can’t make them out. It’s probably for the best, his desire to snap fingers and wrist bones is simmering beneath an oily film of jealousy.

When he finally reaches the pool tables, Dean his bent over racking the balls. He doesn’t even flinch when Sam presses against his ass, leaning over and bracketing him against the table, and licks a stripe up the side of his neck.

“I didn’t like that little performance, Dean.” He bites collarbone, hard. “I don’t want to see it again.”

“Jealous much, Sammy?”

Sam grabs a handful of Dean’s hair, pulling his head to one side in a painful grip. “It’s Sam. Don’t call me Sammy.”

Dean meets his look, an emotion flashing across his eyes that’s close enough to fear to cause Sam’s cock to stir, and nods. “Sure thing, Sam.”

Sam releases his grip and slaps Dean’s ass. “Let’s play some pool.”

Dean plays like a hustler, even when he’s playing against Sam who’s seen every trick in his book. The dollars they play for as so low that Sam barely considers them stakes, but he knows that Dean’s mind is calculating, counting every nickel and dime, and weighing it up against the cost of rent, and food, and fuel.

Sam also knows that the watch he wears, on its own, would pay a full year’s the rent on whatever shitbox apartment Dean’s living in. If he hasn’t gone back to living in his car, that is. He wouldn’t know, he doesn’t ask questions and he doesn’t care about the answer.

Dean is winning when he puts his watch on the table, and Sam thinks there’s something obscene about the five-figure watch lying on a pile of ones and fives, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. He’s been hustling pool for as long as Sam can remember, not even the great John Winchester himself could beat Dean when he didn’t want to lose.

He’s still winning when he offers Sam offers double or nothing. He accepts, aware Dean has no way of meeting the bet.

Dean loses the very next game.

Sam takes his watch back, slips it back over his wrist, and pockets the notes and change. “You owe me just about $45,000.” He steps into Dean’s personal space. “Just how do you plan on paying me, Dean?”

His brother laughs, low and throaty. “How about I pay you back with goods and services.” He puts a hand on Sam’s cheek, drawing him into a deep kiss. Sam quickly takes control, chasing Dean’s mouth, a hand behind his head to hold him in place. It’s rough and violent, and they only break apart when Sam allows it.

“You might be a good whore, Dean, but you’re not forty-five grand worth of ass.”

Again, something shifts behind Dean’s eyes, and Sam savours it, before he covers it with a lascivious grin. “Call it an instalment plan.”

There’s a fire door leading to the alley behind the bar, and Dean shoulders his way through it without looking back, clearly confident that Sam will follow.

He does.

Dean is waiting for him on the other side and pulls him towards a darkened corner. Out here, the low thump-thump of the music from the bar rides on warm and muggy air. The alleyway stinks with the smell of garbage and piss, and other odours Sam doesn’t want to think about.

He’ll have to send his shoes out to be cleaned when he gets home.

He drops to his knees, heedless of the dirt and filth on the ground, one hand grabbing at Sam’s belt and pulling him closer. Seeing Dean kneeling in front of him, green eyes looking up at him through his once-upon-a-time pretty boy lashes, his tongue flicking across his bow mouth, is enough to send Sam teetering towards the edge.

Dean’s hands are deft and expert on his belt buckle, the button and zip on his slacks, and Sam groans as he pulls his fully erect cock out. Dean licks a strip up the underside, his tongue lingering on the tip, teasing at the slit.

Sam leans forward, one hand against the wall, one hand digging into Dean’s hair. He gasps the words out, “No hands, Dean.” Dean obeys, hands behind his back, right wrist gripping the left.

They make eye contact and Dean offers him a wink before he takes his cock in his mouth. His tongue swirls before he swallows it down, his nose pressing against Sam’s pubic hair. His throat works for a few moments, and he never breaks eye contact as he slowly releases Sam’s cock until it pops out of his mouth, a string of saliva connecting them.

He mouths at Sam’s balls, taking each one in his mouth in turn while Sam’s cock drags against the flesh of his face, leaving a sticky trail of precum and saliva in its wake. Dean moves back to his cock, head bobbing as he draws it in and out of his mouth, drawing it deeper and deeper each time he comes up for breath.

Sam tangled a fist into Dean’s hair, and pushes his hips forward, taking control. Dean lets him set the pace. It’s rough and brutal, and leaves Dean struggling for air.

He pulls out at the last moment, wrenching Dean’s head back and shooting strands of cum onto his face. It coats his eyelashes, the freckles across his face, his hair.

Dean is still kneeling on the ground, drawing in deep and shuddering breaths, while Sam pulls his slacks up, buttoning them and buckling his belt. He pulls a money clip out of his pocket and peels a twenty out. He drops it at the ground between Dean’s knees.

Dean snatches the $20 note up and stuffs it into his pocket, before pulling out a tissue and wiping his face. His voice is hoarse, but he manages to shout out “See you next time, Sammy!” as his brother leaves the alleyway.

#supernatural #wincest #soulless sam #ao3 author #fanfic #macamadamia's fanfics #please heed the warnings #dead dove do not eat #wincest wednesday

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potestmagice · 2 years

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Once Upon a Time fanfiction excerpt

Link to the full story here. I elaborated on the whole Will Scarlet and the book of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland bit, where Will still remembers Anastasia (the Red Queen) and still wants to be with her.

Emma walked out of her sheriff’s office and towards the cell that Will Scarlet was in after being arrested the previous night for drunken behaviour. Which also ruined her date night with Hook.

Will laid on the uncomfortable bed of the cell, groaning, before turning his head, which was where he saw Emma approaching the bars of the cell. “Oh, bloody hell,” he cursed.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Emma greeted, leaning into the cell. “Wanna tell me why you broke into the library last night?”

“The what?” Will asked, then remembered where he had been the previous night. “Oh, that’s what that place was? I just thought it was a poorly stocked pub.”

“Okay, I get it. Every town needs a village idiot. But your little stunt pulled me away from an important investigation. And it also interrupted my night off. Start talking.”

“The last thing I remember is running away from you,” Will said. “And then, I celebrated my escape with a nice bottle of whisky.”

Emma held up the book what she was holding. “Did you celebrate with all your friends?” she asked. “Alice and the White Rabbit?”

Will’s eyes widened at the sound of those names. His friends. He hadn’t heard of them – or seen them – in months. Not since the wedding. He turned his head towards Emma and saw the book she was holding. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Though the illustration was off. Alice never looked anything like the girl on the cover. And never did the Caterpillar. Will got up off the bed quickly. And he approached the bars.

“This was on you in the library,” Emma stated, then pulled out a ripped page from her pocket. The page was clearly from the book. “This was in your pocket.”

Will looked down at the page. But, more importantly, it was the person drawn on the page. “Anastasia,” he whispered to himself. He had missed her every day. He thought he would be with her, like the old times. But he had found himself in Storybrooke again. He didn’t know how but he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be with her. With Anastasia. But how could he go back there? To Wonderland?

“Anastasia?” Emma had heard him whisper. “Does she mean anything to you?”

Will was silent. She was his past. She was supposed to be his future, too. He didn’t want to share his past – or future – with any old person. And certainly not the sheriff of this town. “Nope,” he lied. “Doesn’t mean a thing.”

“You said a name. Who’s Anastasia?”

“No one that you would know. Or understand.”

Emma frowned. She was getting nowhere with him. “Okay. What about your eye? Did you get a look at whoever gave you that shiner?”

Will looked behind Emma and saw Hook enter the room. “Now, that is an interesting question, isn’t it?” he asked, recognizing the pirate as the one who gave him his black eye.

Emma turned around when she heard footsteps approaching. “Where were you?” she asked.

“Sorry, love. I just got your message. I …” Hook said, though he didn’t know what to say. Or how to explain what he had been doing the previous night.

“It’s okay,” Emma smiled. “I just need another minute here.” She turned back to face Will. “You were about to tell me who did that to your face.”

“It’s a bloody mystery to me,” Will lied. “Your guess is s good as mine. Must’ve been some party, eh?”

“Well, if you remember anything, I’ll know where to find you,” Emma said, then turned to walk away.

“You’re just gonna keep me in here because I broke into a bloody library?” Will yelled after her.

Emma turned around. “Because you crashed my date.” She turned to face Hook again. “Which turned out pretty good despite the rude interruption.” She looked down and saw that he had the hook back on his left wrist. “What the hell happened to your hand?”

“It appears the Dark One’s magic wasn’t all I’d hoped it would be,” Hook said before the Professor came into the sheriff’s station, holding one of the record books.

“We’ve combed through every last book,” the Professor said, walking over to the closest desk and placing the book on the surface. “The name that this Snow Queen has been using here doesn’t show up in any record. Which means Sarah Fisher is a ghost.”

“What does that mean?” Emma asked.

“That she never came here by any curse. The Dark Curse created fake records for everyone that it brought over. So if she did come by the Curse, her name would be here.” He pointed to the book. “But it’s not.”

“Then how did she get here?” Emma asked. “And what the hell does she want with me?”

#☆ ooc ~ out of magic #☆ drabbles ~ mine

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timelordhonour · 8 months

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Unraveling Fates