Be not afraid!

So a week ago, I sprained my ankle and couldn't walk for 3 days. I'm used to hiking at least an hour a day with my huskies so not being able to walk at all was driving me crazy. And in my jittery sedimentary state, I kept getting visions of this blursed being: a biblically accurate axolotl. There was nothing I could do but draw it. I'm all better now and able to walk again, now back to making less cursed art (maybe)

⤷ choso melts when you kiss him and doesn’t even realise he’s bleeding all over you.

you're choso's biggest blessing.

he makes a point to remind you every day of the way you make him flourish, feel safe and painfully loved despite his half-curse origin and his indisputable inexperience.

he really tried to hide it, though it bled through his stammers and stutters when he asked you out on a date for the first time and when you held his hand– eyes shining –thanking him for the sweet picnic date he'd organised. and it was especially obvious when he stiffly thrusted a hand-picked bouquet of flowers into your chest alongside a neatly written note (the eighth draft) and asked you if he could be your boyfriend.

ever since then, he's convinced himself that for the first time, the universe had been on his side and took pity on him, allowing him to feel unconditional love from a sweetheart like you. even if he didn't know the first thing about intimacy or how to be a boyfriend.

you understood– of course you did. never pressured him into anything, only took his hesitant, brief pecks with a sweet smile and a fleeting kiss of your own to his nose where his blood mark stains the pallid skin.

he's been on his umpteenth replay of this memory when he groans aloud, brows pinching together. he runs a hand through his hair and gracelessly undoes the pigtails, allowing it to fall over his face.

five hours.

if choso wanted to be precise, he'd say you've been gone five hours and thirty-eight minutes. something about a friend's birthday get-together you so desperately had to attend, leaving him bored and girlfriend-less at your place.

that's five hours and thirty-eight minutes of sighing incessantly, laying in your bed to smell the remnants of your perfume, using your favourite cutlery as he eats lunch alone, and staring at your last message on his phone promising to come home soon.

should he text again? no, yuji mentioned girls hate that. should he just wait? it’s unbearable, really—

he's on his fourth aimless lap around your apartment when he hears the keys jingle outside and the door push open. and like a moth to a flame, choso suddenly finds purpose and pads over to the door.

you're there, beautiful and his, slipping off your heels with a soft huff and neatly setting them aside before lifting your head. a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, urging him to mirror the gesture, albeit shyly.

you’re so pretty. he loves what you’ve done with your makeup. so shiny, oh he loves you.

"hi, cho!" you beam, now turning to slip your jacket off, hang it up, empty your purse— and choso soon finds himself walking towards you to snake his hands around your waist without thinking. he tugs you back into his chest, hands sprawled over your stomach, squeezing faintly at the flesh.

you drop your purse on the counter, twisting in his arms to face him. his brows, if possible, have furled further and his pupils are dilated nearly entirely.

"cho?" you murmur softly, wrapping your own arms around his neck. "is something wrong?"

"you were gone for a while."

"you knew i would be."

"i missed you." he frowns further when you laugh, tilting his head down to look at you. consequently, his hair falls over his eyes a little, having freed it from the signature pigtails it's always in.

"cho, i wasn't even gone long." you coo, tucking his hair behind his ear with an amused smile, fingertips brushing an earring.

"five hours and forty minutes."

you laugh again, soft and airy, a sound he'd gladly exchange a sense to hear indefinitely.

"okay, cho, i’m sorry."

"you don't need to be sorry, i hope you had fun." he murmurs, tilting his head down to brush a brief kiss to your hairline. "what did you do?"

yeah, he'll ask. maybe your rambling will take the fact that he wants to kiss you off his mind.

"mm, we went to a really fancy restaurant! it had a cute bar too and—oh, the bathrooms were super pretty! my friends and I managed to get super pretty pictures, remind me to show you! anyway, we had dinner, then—”

he's listening. well, he was at some point, but now he's on his tenth non-committal hum while he guides you to your bedroom to help you wind down as you continue your storytelling.

you giggle, unruffled in the slightest, and stop in your tracks. that earns you a confused hum, choso mirroring your movements and halting.

"hm? carry on."

"you're not even listening."

his eyes widen imperceptibly and suddenly his hands are sweaty. is this the start of your first argument? are you mad? oh, god, are you going to dump him because he was too stuck in his fantasy of kissing you that he didn't reply?

"i-i was." he manages to mutter. "i’m sorry. you said something about mirror pictures?"

"yeah, five minutes ago."

he's sweating profusely now. and just when his lips part to come up with another weak response, you can't help but giggle.

"cho, i’m not mad. i was rambling, anyway. what's on your mind, though?" you hum, taking his hand and swinging it as you pad into your bedroom.

choso's not a liar. so, he confesses, but as quietly as humanely possible.

“…”

you hum again.

"huh?"

"said i wanted to kiss you." he repeats with a soft groan, the tips of his ears growing a bright red.

you stop and smile. god, you’ve done a lot of that tonight.

you don't even think twice. you stand on the tips of your toes and cup his cheeks, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. choso grunts, half-surprised and half-fuckingfinally, placing a hand on your waist to return the favour.

although, when you pull away, he leans back in, his other hand cupping your cheek to guide your face to his again. you don't even deny him, you kiss him back happily, sweet presses of lips with an undercurrent of messiness only an inexperienced choso can offer.

he gives a soft whimper when he feels your tongue prod at the seam of his lips, ears growing hot at the implication. was it an accident?

you walk him back against the bed and climb into his lap, and he audibly gasps. you take advantage of the airy sound, slipping your tongue into his mouth and deepening the kiss just slightly.

choso's jaw falls slack, his lips trying desperately to meet you halfway. his head feels heavy and far too hot and he's dizzy, everything's fuzzy and blurred and he can't even feel his hands on your waist anymore–

you feel a drop on your cheek. then again, on your nose. instinctively, your nose scrunches and you pull back thinking he's crying again like he did with your first kiss.

to your surprise, he's bleeding. the blood mark on the length of his nose is dripping down his own cheeks and nose in slow, small rivulets and his eyes are blown wide. he sniffles. doesn’t even notice it’s him.

"babe? are you bleeding?" he panics a little, swiping the blood off your cheeks with his thumbs before he feels a trickle down his chin.

"no, its you! cho, you're bleeding!" you yelp, reaching over to the bedside table to grab a box of tissues, pressing three to his nose. "are you okay?! what happened?!"

now, his entire face is red and you can't tell if he's blushing or if he's about to bleed from every facial orifice next.

he lifts a hand to his face, sliding a fingertip down the bridge of his nose and down the subtle bump you love, collecting a smudge of blood. he starts to wipe his nose with the tissues.

"s-sorry, i lost control... i didn't think that would happen." he mumbles, covering his face with one hand while the other cleans himself up, desperately willing his technique to fix itself. he should ideally only be bleeding at will, he knows this.

"oh my god, you scared me!" you squeak, watching as his blood mark stops bleeding.

"s-sorry, i guess i got too caught up," he apologises, embarrassment laced in his words. he presses a kiss to your nose, wiping your cheeks until clean.

you sigh, cupping his cheeks and letting your eyes run over his face to ensure he won't bleed all over you again. when satisfied, you nod, letting your hands drop to your lap, your smaller body still perched on his thighs.

"okay. I'm not kissing you until tomorrow. to be safe.”

choso's jaw falls open and his eyes widen comically.

"wait, what?"

omg idk about this one ngl

The Amazing Digital Battle Royale