#his curly hair is hard to draw though >:( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

selfcarecap · 3 months ago

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MUSE [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x reader

summary: Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them.

warnings: smut 18+ but with an actual plot for once (brief m masturbation, oral f and m rec, unprotected piv sex, kind of accidental (but consensual obv) facial; pet names: bub, baby, good girl, princess), soft!Logan but he won’t admit it, also soft!reader, fluff (although the summary makes it sounds a bit more dramatic than it is tbh), implication that reader has curly hair, implied mutant/X-men!reader, (obviously the pic doesn’t represent the envelopes Logan uses lol he’s not doing all that)

word count: 7.3k

also i feel the need to say something about the fact that it’s Hugh Jackman’s birthday today lol so uh thanks for being huge jacked man and for giving us our Logan yay <3 | gorgeous divider by @plutism

It’s everything Logan is the opposite of – he would never tell a soul – but over the course of his long life, Logan has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. It’s not really him, but he did have a phase or two.

When he meets you, he hasn’t even thought of picking up a pencil in years. Ever since you’ve been at the mansion though, Logan’s fingertips twitch with the urge to start sketching your features every time he’s with you. It gets hard to ignore after a few days.

He waits until he’s known you a few weeks, there’s no way in hell he’d ask if he could draw you. He’d probably embarrass you by asking, and embarrass himself by admitting he’s into fucking art. That’s not him.

Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring.

He gives in to the urge to get out pencil and paper again, waiting until everyone else has gone to sleep. The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises.

Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing.

He picks out a few other things to draw then, to ease the pressure that comes with drawing the woman he… is friends with. Yeah, you’re a friend. And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more.

But after a few nights he feels more confident in his drawing skills again, but still, as much as he can picture you in his mind – he can do that absolutely perfectly – he’s not too sure he could really draw you accurately.

So he gets Rogue to show him how goddamn fucking Instagram works so that he can look at some of your pictures and use them as a model.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He can’t believe it, but the first time he seriously attempts to draw you, it’s perfect. It’s a small drawing, not even as big as his palm, capturing your gorgeous face. He thinks of adding another few lines to your eyebrows, or to your hair or another small one to the outline of your lips, but he doesn’t want to mess with it.

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite.

He hides the drawing in between the pages of a book, and hides the book under a pile of random clutter on his desk that not even he would normally spare a glance at. But when he lies down to go to sleep, he gets all the stuff out again and gets out the drawing. He wants to see it again. And he can’t leave it there anyway, what if the pressure from all the items on top of it smudges it?

But he doesn’t know what else to do with it. He can’t really have a drawing of you sitting in his room. What if someone sees? Then what is he gonna do with it instead?

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again.

He could give it to you.

Logan knows his drawing isn’t objectively a masterpiece, but if he’s proud of it he has to acknowledge that that probably means it’s at least decent. And you’re definitely the type of person to appreciate something like this. It’s weird admitting to himself that he’s even proud of what he’s drawn; he’s done so much in this world, who cares about a little drawing?

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him. To see the side that has him staying up until 3AM to finely trace the lines of someone’s eyelashes and cheekbones and lips, the side that makes him feel calm inside.

He knows it’s stupid to hide but he just can’t. He decides he’ll leave the drawing in your room in an envelope, maybe a pink one to show you it’s not a creepy threat but meant as a sign of adoration, from someone who couldn’t resist but try to recreate your beauty. He won’t write his name on it, he just wants you to have it.

Sappy motherfucker.

He puts the small drawing back into the book and carefully pushes it between his mattress and the bedframe to protect it during the night. God, who even is he – protecting a tiny piece of paper? He groans at himself as he turns around to go to sleep.

He dreams of making a thousand drawings of you, with you as his live model. His muse.

You’re his girlfriend in his dream, he thinks.

He’s sitting in a chair in your room, drawing you as you tell him about your day. You’re lying on your bed on your tummy, elbows propped up to support your head. You’re gently kicking your feet in the air behind you, wearing nothing but a t-shirt of Logan’s, some silly graphic socks, panties with little cherries on them, and a bright, bashful smile as Logan attempts to capture your glowing features in a sketch block he’s dedicated to drawings of you.

He wakes up with morning wood.

Logan is no stranger to jerking off with you on his mind, so he spits in his hand and slips it beneath his boxers, stroking himself as he thinks of you. He imagines you on top of him as he jerks his cock, imagines you under him, or with your legs around his head, or you between his knees on the floor. He cums quickly and hard, leaving his boxers wet and sticky.

He goes for a run after he’s dealt with it and picks up an envelope on his way. He’s doubting himself but he knows he has to just do it. He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door.

So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart.

It’s soo stupid.

He makes sure no one is anywhere near your bedroom, walks up to your door, and slides the envelope underneath. Except he didn’t check if you were in your room. As soon as the envelope disappears beneath your door, he hears a short creak from your bed and your soft footsteps.

He hears the small and adorable noise of curiosity you let out – a confused hm? – and then he quickly and quietly makes his way down the hallway. He hears your voice about ten seconds later, an intrigued hello? as you open the door, but you don’t investigate further, closing the door behind you.

Logan’s heart is beating so fast. He’s never doing this shit again.

He’s antsy all day, waiting for some type of reaction from you. Except you don’t know that the drawing is from him so he’s probably not even getting one, and he can’t conspicuously come to your room the same day you receive an anonymous drawing of yourself.

It’s also when the insecurity settles in. Maybe he should have added a few more lines or started the entire drawing anew. Who does he think he is pretending to be an artist?

He shakes those thoughts off as he starts training with the punching bag in the gym. It’s not something that he necessarily needs to train, but it gets rid of some of that pointless energy. This isn’t him, worried about some lines he drew on a piece of paper – a scrap of a paper, really. Who cares about something like that? Certainly not him.

He sleeps dreamlessly and wakes up the next day disappointed that he didn’t get to dream about being your boyfriend again. God, what are you doing to him? Making him think about being boyfriend and girlfriend. He’s pathetic. You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

He’s not even thinking of the drawing anymore, truly, when he walks into the kitchen the next morning. It only comes to mind when he sees you, alone in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to scroll on your phone, your weird green coffee (“it’s Matcha, Logan”) next to you as you stir it mindlessly with a metal straw.

“Hi,” you look up with one of those sweet smiles of yours, but redirect your attention to your phone.

At least you don’t immediately say something like hey, you know that drawing you slid under my door? It was so ugly I threw it away. Since when do you even draw?

Not that he was worried you would or anything. He hasn’t been thinking about it. Obviously. Why would he? And he knows you would never expect that it’s him; that’s the only reason he did it. He never would have given you the drawing if he thought you could have even the slightest inkling that Logan would be someone who draws. But he still wants to know what you think of it.

“You want some toast too?” You ask, putting your phone down and turning to get some bread. He sits down at the other side of the kitchen counter and as his eyes flicker to your green drink (he still doesn’t get it), he sees it.

“Is that–” my drawing, he almost said, “What is that?” He pretends to be confused, drawing his eyebrows together, trying his best to look inquisitive, “No toast by the way, thanks.”

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing.

“Did you draw it?” He asks.

You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.”

“Secret admirer?”

Smiling, you say, “I don’t know. I won’t get my hopes up. But the person must definitely be fond of me to draw me like that.”

“Like what?” He asks, unsure if he’s about to be offended.

“I don’t know, just, so beautiful. I’m not saying I’m not pretty or anything, but this looks… I don’t look like that. I wish I did. I can’t believe someone actually sees me like that. It’s stupid but I….” You trail off and, conveniently, the toast is done at the same time and you move on to that.

But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?”

You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

Logan stays silent. He can’t seem too pushy and draw attention to himself, but his silence makes you confess.

“I cried when I first saw it yesterday. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. And it’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, for someone to perceive me in such an artistic way.”

Logan makes a noise of satisfaction and smiles, asking you to pass your phone so he can look at it more – pretending it’s his first time seeing it. If you think that way about it, maybe the three more lines he was going to add aren’t that important after all.

The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created.

After a week, he figures he has to give in. Drawing another picture of you is on his mind twenty-four seven.

It doesn’t help that he still catches you staring at the copy of it in your phone case lovingly more than once a day and you’ve put the original drawing in a special little frame on your nightstand. He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing.

This is for you. It’s not about him. He’s not an artist or anything like that, he’s just doing something kind for someone he cares about (which is honestly sappy enough but he tries to ignore that). He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy.

He’ll just make this second drawing and silently put it in your room, and he’s the last person you’ll suspect.

But of course now that he knows it means something to you, he can’t get anything right. He draws your hair too curly, then not curly enough. He draws your nose too big, then too small. Your eyes end up crooked. He can’t erase too much because it’ll look sloppy, so even the drawing he gets almost perfect, he ruins with a few final additions at the end.

It takes him an entire month for the next drawing, and it feels more like him that it’s been making him so angry that he couldn’t get it right at first. Maybe he had the wrong picture of artists. They’re always talking about pain, aren’t they, and that’s what he experiences too (over a drawing. Who is he?).

He takes another few days to keep track of your routine, to monitor when you’ll be in your room. He can’t have it be as close as last time.

He ends up doing it in the evening. There’s a time after dinner when most of the team stays together to watch tv, just talk, or play some games. It’s normal for some of you to wander off, come back or stick around a bit longer. It won’t be suspicious if he leaves for a few minutes and comes back.

Logan wants nothing more than to follow you when you say that you’re going to your room for the night; he wants to see your reaction. But he can’t. All he can do is go up to his own bedroom fifteen minutes later, lingering in the hallway longer than he needs to.

Just as he’s about to give up and go to sleep, you walk down the hallway, coming back from the bathroom.

“Logan!” you call all excitedly when you see him, and his heart skips a beat. Do you know the drawing is from him?

“Look,” you take his arm and pull him to your room, “I got another drawing!”

He breathes out in relief; you don’t know it’s from him. He smiles when you hold up the drawing, already framed.

“Were you expecting to get another drawing?” he teases.

“Noo, but the frames came in a pack of two. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Logan looks at how your eyes sparkle, how proudly you’re showing him this drawing. All the work he put into it was definitely worth it. It’s another picture of your face, this time from a new angle, and with your hair styled differently, curls coiled another way from last time.

Logan clears his throat, remembering to keep up his act. “It looks good.”

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.”

He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

“It is. And you don’t have to know much about art or drawing to see how pretty this is. I still can’t believe someone would take the time to make these for me.”

Logan remains silent instead of saying what he wants to tell you. Of course he would take that time for you – and you don’t even know how much time it really took him. If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you.

Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

He’s on a roll for some time. He’s better at drawing again now that he’s getting in practice, and he makes five drawings of you within the next weeks. Logan watches the collection of them on your nightstand grow fuller, along with your smile that somehow gets bigger every time you tell him about a new drawing.

It’s a wonder you haven’t caught on yet, but you don’t seem particularly interested in snooping around to find out who it is. You respect the person’s privacy, but you’ve confessed to him that you’d still love to know.

“I won’t try to find out who it is. I won’t push it if they don’t want me to know… but, I mean, anyone would want to know, wouldn’t they?”

You’ve adopted the nickname of ‘secret admirer’ for this mysterious ‘they’, after Logan used the term about ten times. You were reluctant at first, because the person isn’t calling themself a secret admirer – you’d just be putting words in their mouth. But after seeing how much more beautiful the drawings get each time, you’ve accepted and admitted that, okay, yes, the person must be an admirer.

Your secret admirer Logan is particularly proud of his latest drawing, excited to bring it up to your room tonight.

But this time he’s sloppy. He’s stayed for a few post-dinner card games with the team, and it’s risky, because you’ve been saying that it’s your last game for the last two rounds. But he also knows that you always say that, and never mean it.

Logan gets up to leave, and he hears Scott convincing you to play just one more round.

It’s stupid, really, risking it like that. Even if he’s gone from your room in time before you come upstairs, you could easily guess that it’s Logan. He’s the first one leaving the round tonight, so your first assumption could be that it was him.

Maybe subconsciously he wants to get caught. He’s seen how you light up at every drawing, and no matter how much you respect your admirer’s anonymity, of course you want to know who’s dedicating so much time and work to drawings of you. Of course it’s crossed your mind that the person isn’t just doing this because they’re a good friend. They’re drawing your face because they think it’s beyond beautiful.

Logan doesn’t really know why he hasn’t told you yet that he likes you. He’s good at flirting, and he’s attractive – he’s not blind. But with you it’s different, there’s a bigger risk, for the both of you. The older he gets, the harder it is to open up to yet another person. You’re friends, and you talk about personal things, but confessing that he’s in love with you is different.

Not to mention this stupid recurring dream he keeps having, in which you find out it’s Logan who��s been drawing you, and suddenly your opinion of the drawings changes. You don’t like him back like that, and suddenly the drawings feel creepy if you think about him staying up late drawing your face.

He rolls his eyes at himself and gets the thought out of his head, taking the small envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans, smoothing his hand over it. He looks around, making sure no one sees him.

Logan bends down to slide the envelope under your door as usual, but one of the corners of the paper catches against the wall, and he quickly opens it to check the drawing isn’t damaged. His heart is beating so fast, he feels stupid.

He can hear footsteps, still far away, but he can hear them. Logan messily licks the edges of the envelope to close it back up, but it’s not sticking. He can’t decide between shoving it under the door like this or leaving now and bringing it back the next day. He can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage now.

Then he hears it. He miscalculated how far the footsteps were.

“Logan?”

He turns around slowly, and it feels like the world has frozen.

You come closer, looking at him and then at the letter that he must’ve dropped. It hasn’t made it under your door yet.

He says something before you can, “I’m delivering for someone else.”

“Who?” you ask, bending down to pick up the envelope. If he wasn’t petrified, he’d enjoy the view of you bent over in front of him.

He breathes. He can’t have anyone taking credit for his work, for his art (you called it that recently, he would never). But his heart is beating so fast he doesn’t know what the fuck to do or say.

This is exactly why he never wanted to do any of this. He’s making a fool out of himself and that doesn’t usually happen, especially not over a piece of paper. Logan is confident, cocky even, he can admit that, and has no idea how to deal with things like being nervous; he never has to. This really isn’t him.

You don’t wait for an answer and look at the envelope. You open it so carefully, gently taking the drawing out with your fingertips. You’re treating it with so much care he immediately feels better. Again, this isn’t for him, it’s for you. (Well, it’s for him too but it’ll take him a while to admit that).

He’s drawn your smile this time. You were happy in most of the drawings before, but he focussed more on the eyes, and your lips only ever tugged up in a slight smile.

This one is a full-toothed grin, mid-laugh.

You two were drinking last weekend. He barely felt it but your tipsy, giggly mood was contagious. He couldn’t imagine himself feeling any other way but blissful when you’re happy around him.

It started when Logan made a casual comment about something silly Scott was wearing that night, and he had you giggling. He wanted to immediately hear that angelic sound again, of course, and so he gave you every joke about your shared friends he could think of – all light-hearted, but he was still glad you two were alone.

It was the stupidest joke of all that made you really laugh, some dumb comparison between Xavier and Caillou. You probably wouldn’t even giggle at it anymore now, but in the moment it was so funny you almost spat out your drink from the deep belly laugh he drew from you, holding onto his bicep so you wouldn’t fall over as tears formed in your eyes from how hard you were laughing. He wanted to engrave the image on his soul. At least he got your smile on paper.

You look up at him now, eyes filled with tears.

“You drew this?” you ask.

He nods softly. He can’t say it but he hopes the drawings convey how in love with you he is.

Suddenly, Logan feels like his heart has stopped beating.

You’re kissing him.

You’ve leaped up, wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, and now your lips are on his.

He feels your mouth falter, probably because he’s being a fucking idiot and not kissing you back. Logan places his hands on your waist to pull you further towards him. Then his brain finally catches up and he can do what he’s wanted to for so long.

He takes your chin with two fingers and angles you so you can kiss him easier. He closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of your soft, warm lips against him. You’re soft and warm all over. Your top has slipped up over his fingertips at your sides, and he slides his hands further around your back to support you against him even better.

Logan’s tongue pushes at your lower lip, and you let out the sexiest, tiny moan of surprise as you part your lips for him, granting him access.

His tongue touches the tip of yours and from then on your cravings intensify. You feel your way over his muscular shoulders, his big biceps and over the hard planes of his chest. When you’ve had a good feel there, your hands grip his shirt in desperation and Logan gets even hungrier for you. He gently bites at your lower lip, but then you shriek into his mouth and squirm out of his grasp. He opens his eyes wide.

You grip Logan’s forearm for support when you bend down in a panic, picking up the drawing you just dropped. You let out a big breath of relief when you see it hasn’t been damaged.

“You made me drop it!” You slap a hand to his chest; it doesn’t actually hurt and it’s not meant to, but it leaves a pleasant tingle behind instead.

“I didn’t do anything”, Logan laughs, and you shake your head at him with a smile.

You take him into your room where you make him sit on the bed while you stare at the new drawing in awe. “I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it.

“No one else knows.”

You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

“I’ll only draw for you anyway, so there’s no point in telling anyone else.”

“You’re really good. I love the drawings.”

Logan gives a satisfied hum at your words, “You inspired me. Can’t have you walking around all pretty and not expect me to try and recreate it.”

You straddle Logan and hover over his lap to hug him, “They’re the best thing anyone's ever given to me. Do I really look like that?” You say the last question more quietly, and Logan wraps his arms around your sides, careful not to bump your hand that’s still holding the drawing.

“You’re more gorgeous than anything I could ever capture, but I think it comes close. I didn’t change anything about you to make you more beautiful. I couldn’t if I tried. I just tried to draw you as accurately as possible, that’s why it’s so beautiful.”

“I really love it,” you say again, happily staring at the details of the drawing. Hearing you say the word love so much tempts Logan, but he doesn’t want to move too fast. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He does, however, want to kiss you again.

Logan carefully takes the framed drawing and puts it on your nightstand. You push your mouth against his before he can initiate the kiss, and he grins against your lips.

You don’t know how to put your feelings into words, so you’re kissing him instead. He pulls you down so that you’re not hovering over but sitting on his lap, and the mood immediately shifts to something different. Logan doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but if you’re ready then he’ll take anything he can get.

Your chest is pressed against Logan’s, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes. You may or may not be pressing your boobs against his body on purpose.

“God, baby, I’ve waited so long for this,” he says, already breathless, as his hands trail down your back, leaving goosebumps behind.

“You’ve waited long?” you raise your eyebrows, grinning, “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I met you.”

You see the look in Logan’s eyes changing as he bites his lip, “Who says I didn’t want the same?”

You giggle, “Why did it take us so long?”

Logan chuckles, readjusting you so that you’re even closer to him, “I was too busy to actually talk to you, just been starin’ at you so I could draw you.” His cheeks have the faintest red tint, and you kiss them, hugging him.

You whisper into his ear, “Then it was worth the wait. And anyway, it’s not talking that I’m interested in right now.”

He pulls you back to look into your eyes, then at your lips. “Where do you want me?” he asks. You giggle slightly helplessly; you weren’t entirely prepared to have a man like Logan at your mercy like this tonight.

“You can do whatever you want,” you say softly, kissing him.

Logan’s lips are hungry against yours, strings of spit falling between you two, but he pauses the kiss to lie you on your back. “Wanna eat you out,” he husks, “Been dying to know what you taste like forever, bub. Can I?” He reaches for the hem of your top, and you nod so that he can pull it off you, admiring what’s underneath.

“Sometimes I make myself cum imagining that I’m going down on you,” you confess somewhat shyly, but you figure he’s been so vulnerable for you that you can share a secret too.

Logan smirks, and pulls off his shirt, “Maybe we can make your dream come true then.”

You move to sit up, but he insists on eating you out first. You both take off all your clothes, staring at each other with huge smiles on your faces for a few moments. You’ve never seen Logan this happy.

“Look at you, baby. So pretty,” he leans down to kiss your lips, then down your neck, all the way to your legs. He spreads them, lying down between them as he all but drools at the sight of your wet pussy.

You get nervous all of a sudden. “It’s been a while,” you tell him. He looks up, taking your hand, enveloping it completely in his much bigger one.

“You sure about this? We can wait,” he gently kisses your knuckles, and a warmth spreads in your chest, slowing your heartbeat down a little.

“I’m sure,” you nod, and Logan comes up again to kiss you. The head of his hard cock catches against the space above your clit, and you both look down between your bodies. When Logan looks back up at you, his eyes are desperately begging you. You place your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his hair as he moves down your body.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mumbles into your thigh, kissing you there. You giggle, getting comfortable, your hand never leaving his hair.

Logan starts eating you out, his tongue gentle but determined against your clit.

“Taste so good, baby. Even better than I imagined.” You hum at Logan’s words, already feeling yourself come undone with his mouth on your wet pussy.

You sink further into the mattress when he starts sucking on your clit, licking into your pussy like a man starved every few moments, and your thighs squeeze around Logan’s head, and it’s even better than in his fantasies.

“Feels really good,” you tell him, pulling on his hair to stop yourself from moving too much, and Logan moans against your skin. Hearing your words motivates him even more, and he pushes two fingers into your wet pussy. He curls his fingers, rubbing up against that spot that makes you see stars.

Your back arches as you cum, Logan’s lips wrapped around your clit as your legs push harder against his head, and all he does is moan, revelling in the feeling.

Logan doesn’t stop licking your pussy until you’re tugging his head away by his hair, and he comes up for air with a grin on his face. You smile back, pulling him up to kiss him. You give yourself only a few seconds of recovery time before you make him sit down. You know you’d never have enough strength to actually make him get into a different position, but he lets you.

You push him onto his back, getting between his legs. You’re blinking up at him all prettily when you ask, “Can I suck your dick? Please?”

Logan huffs to himself because he can’t believe how hot you are, can’t believe that this is really finally happening. He tells you yes – he has no more words to describe how badly he wants this – and he watches you wrap your pretty lips around his cock.

It’s hard to grasp that it’s really you doing this right now – the woman he’s been into for so long. His cock is in your mouth and you look so gorgeous with spit running down from your lips, and all he can think of is all the dirty drawings he can now make of you, if you’ll let him.

He closes his eyes when you take him deeper, enveloping him with your warm, wet mouth. “Good girl,” he whispers absent-mindedly, too gone to say much more.

You’re not using your hands as you suck his cock, your spit trailing down on him, and you’re so eager. But it’s also late, and he sees you getting tired, eyes blinking slower as you pause to catch your breath every few moments. He also sees the determination in your eyes, and the absolute want, but he doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself.

You look so sexy all fucked out, strings of spit connecting your mouth to his cock as you pull away another time, giggling up at him shyly when you realise that he’s noticing you getting tired.

“Just need a second,” you wipe your mouth, out of breath, and it’s not that you’re not incredibly hot like this, but he still wants to fuck you tonight and he’s not sure that will happen if you keep going.

“C’mere, baby,” he says, reaching out his hand.

“Huh?” you ask, taking his hand nevertheless.

“Get back here, baby. I’m gonna fuck you now, alright? Don’t want you tiring yourself out.”

You let him lift you and put you on your back, but you pout, “Wanna taste you.”

Logan grins, “I’ll cum in your mouth, princess. Promise.”

You smile at his answer, satisfied, so you lie back down, pulling your legs up to your chest. His cock looks huge as he jerks himself off between your legs, rubbing the tip against your clit, making you squirm.

“Don’t know if I can take you,” you bite your lip. You’re not entirely sure if you mean it or not. You definitely want to try.

“We’ll make it fit, baby, we’ll make it fit,” Logan assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth, a mix of your wetness and his precum between your mouths. You feel his cock at your pussy, “You ready?”

“I’m ready,” you nod desperately, letting him push his cock into your pussy. He pauses after a few inches, but you wrap your legs around his waist more tightly, and he goes deeper.

“Y’okay, baby? You can take it, right?”

You nod, unable to form words with your pussy stretched like this, a combination of pleasure and pain between your legs – but it’s infinitely more pleasure.

“That’s right. You’re my good girl, hm?” He kisses along your neck as he bottoms out, and you both moan when he’s got his cock fully stuffed inside you for the first time. He pulls out slightly when you whine at the stretch, but you scratch down his back to get his attention.

“I can take it,” you tell him, and you watch the look in his eyes darken.

He begins to fuck you, the pain subsiding more with every thrust into your wet pussy. You can barely take him, but it feels good. With your slight tiredness, you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine.

You can’t believe that Logan – your super hot friend Logan who you’ve been fantasising about for so long – is fucking you. He not only feels the same way about you, but he’s been your secret admirer this entire time, taking hours and hours out of his day to make you smile. You’re the only one he wants.

And now he’s fucking you, fucking you well, and you feel so warm inside, not just from the sex but you feel warm in your heart, because of Logan’s care.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking a hand down your face when he notices you’re not entirely present. You nod happily, smiling up at him, and you can’t talk because you feel so good.

“Good, that’s good, bub, but let me know if it gets too much,” he says as he starts rubbing your clit, watches you nod while he’s fucking you so well, and he’s so big and so deep inside of you, “Squeezing me so tight, baby, feel so fucking good.”

You cum suddenly, letting the warm pleasure flow through your body as Logan keeps fucking you through it, rubbing your clit in just the right rhythm.

“That’s my girl, taking it so well,” he moans, breaths stuttering. You slump against the pillow after a few moments, with a soft smile on your face, and Logan pulls out.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he jerks his cock, and you sit up on your elbows immediately, looking him in the eyes with a smile as you stick out your tongue for him. He promised.

Logan moans when he cums, painting your face in his release, jerking himself off. He holds your head in place with his other hand, aiming for your mouth but you’re making no effort to catch his cum there.

“Such a pretty fucking face, princess, ’m cumming all over it,” he rasps, shooting more ropes of his cum all over your cheeks, jacking off onto your face.

You open your eyes when he’s done and breathing heavily, and you smile up at him. You open your mouth, taking the head of his cock between your lips to suck off the last drops of cum.

“Look at you, baby. Look so fucking pretty with my cum all over your gorgeous face.”

You hum, pulling your mouth off him and licking your lips, tasting his salty release. You brush a finger over your cheek, sucking it into your mouth to taste him more. Logan kisses you then, the flavour of himself mixing between your mouths.

He cleans you up gently, carefully wiping your face with a baby wipe and kissing every inch of your cheeks afterwards. You take his face to kiss him properly, and if you didn’t seem so tired Logan would be ready for round two immediately.

“Next time you could try to actually cum in my mouth,” you tease, making Logan grin.

“Sorry, baby. Got too excited. Couldn’t focus on asking you again if it was okay.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “I liked it.”

Logan grins, “Oh I could tell you liked it, baby.” You lightly slap his chest as you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

You cuddle for a while, not saying much because you don’t have to. You’ve both waited for this for so long that you’re just enjoying the moment, enjoying that it finally happened.

You slip out of his arms to sit on top of him. You’re in nothing but panties, the blanket bunching around your hips. You lean your hands against his chest as you tell him more about how much the drawings delighted you. And Logan cares, of course he cares to hear that, but he’s also just a man seeing the woman he’s into naked for the first time still.

You become quiet when you realise that he’s not listening, and you giggle, “Distracted?”

Logan grins, “Just a little fucking bit, baby.” His eyes don’t leave your body, and you laugh as you bend down to kiss him. He grabs your ass, kneading the flesh. When you slightly sit up again, your tits are near his face, and he can’t help himself. He cups your breasts, playing with your nipples, making you hum.

“I should draw these,” he looks up at you, “Should draw every perfect fucking inch of you.”

“You wanna?” You adjust how you’re seated in his lap, and you feel that he’s already half hard under you again.

“Maybe after I’ve fucked you again.”

You smile, feeling yourself growing wetter on top of him.

“Tomorrow,” he continues, and your smile drops.

“But you’ve got to get more familiar with the inspiration, right? If you’re going to draw me.”

“That’s true, baby. But I think you’re too tired.”

You smile bashfully, ignoring how your eyelids were drooping shut just a few seconds ago, “Okay, but then I’ll have more energy for tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, pulling you off him to cuddle you again. He tucks you in and kisses your head.

You turn to your side, taking one of the framed drawings and looking at it for a while.

Logan watches you looking at it, and the sparkle in your eyes never fails to make him feel all warm inside. “Now that you actually know about it, I don’t have to draw you from memory anymore. I can study my muse in peace.”

“Aww, I’m your muse?” you beam.

“Of course you are, princess. You’re the only reason I’m drawing again.”

“I love your drawings so much.”

Logan clears his throat, and looks at you. “Well, I love you. So, I think that went into them.”

You look at him, pouting and then kissing him. “I love you too,” you say into his mouth. He grins against your lips, pulling you closer to kiss you some more. He can barely grasp that you just said that, but he’ll have enough time soon to comprehend how lucky he is.

For now, he takes your hand, and asks, “The question might be redundant now, but do you wanna be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

“I’m already yours.”

Logan grins, takes you in his arms, and you’re still cuddling when you’re both drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

P.S. reblog with a comment and let me know your favourite moment/what you liked to get a drawing from Logan under your door tonight and a facial <33

gorgeous divider by @pommecita

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #fem!reader #selfcarecap

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xblueshin · 3 months ago

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got a bunch of messy doodles!

I love drawing in the Lego Monkie Kid style, but I want to also develop a style that's more "mine" I'm still experimenting around what I like best; I'm not 100% sure yet.

I wanted to have 2 styles because:

1. It's fun to experiment around (even though the very first stage of figuring out how to draw a character can be frustrating, lol).

2. Last time I've drawn characters in a radically different style from mine (the sonic characters) for a long while, I went back trying to draw humans again and it sent me into art block immediatly, I felt like I couldn't draw humans anymore and I'm still struggling with it, so I don't want a repeat of that.

I think from here I want to try and add stuff to their designs. For example, on these sketches, I already added the turquoise lines under Wukong's eyes because I LOVE when people draw him with them. I also love the curly hair that resembles his nimbus that some people draw him into. I dunno if I want to implement that because I hardly change character designs too much; it was already hard for me to change Mac's and Wukong's colors for skin and eyes (I still want to slightly change Mac's eyes color, though).

Fun fact: I made the 2 doodles of Wukong looking down while I listening to Monster from Epic: The Musical. I dunno, it just clicked. I've been imagining Wukong singing it, lol.

#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk macaque #lmk sun wukong #|| my lmk art #|| my art

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gatorbites-imagines · 3 months ago

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Kinktober day 16

Curly (Mouthwashing) + food play

Guess whos got Mouthwashing brainrot. This guy. I love me a psychological horror game that im too scared to play myself, so I watch manlybadasshero play it. I love curly, and I love angst and horror, so here we go.

tw for vague mentions of what happens in the game, and Curly losing his mind.

2024 kinktober masterlist

Sunlight passed in through the slim windows in your shared apartment, the radio playing some tune you didn’t know the name off. Most music nowadays was made by AI, generating what seemed to be popular at that very moment, so it was never worth learning the names, not when most were just a line of numbers and letters.

Your socked feet carry you silently across the carpet, a serving tray in your hands as you carefully push the door open. The apartment was ancient by todays standards, but it had windows that let you see the actual sun, and not just the artificial one they used so people wouldn’t go crazy. It did result in having doors you actually had to open, instead of sliding doors.

Seeing your husband laid out on the bed made it all worth it though, the sliver of sunlight brushing against his skin and making his blonde hair look like gold. Curly was going on another delivery in a weeks time and would be gone for about eight months to a year. It might have sounded extreme, but in this day and age it was normal, especially for you two, who were working class.

Luckily you had a job that paid okay, but not enough to support you both, and your lover had such a draw to the stars. This also meant you two had been going at it like rabbits, to be able to sate yourselves until you met again.

The tray was placed on the bedside table, a sleepy smile pulling at Curly’s lips as you crawl up the bed, pressing soft kissing all the way up his spine. “Morning captain” you murmur against his neck, where you bury your face and inhale deeply, simply taking in the smell that was him.

His hand lazily reaches back and runs through your hair, a sleepy hum leaving his lips as Curly seems to melt further into the sheets, a long relaxed exhale leaving him. “mornin…” he mumbles, not even opening his eyes as he felt your chest press against his back.

Mornings like this with you were Curly’s favourite, where he just got to indulge himself in all that he loved. A small yelp did jump out of him as he felt something run down his back, your chuckle making him grumble and finally glance back at you, his blue eyes parted just enough to see you.

Curly huffed a little as he watched and felt you lick syrup up from the crevice of his spine, your tongue flicking out and lapping against every knob of his spine that you could feel. He sighed and arched his back a little as you got further down, flattening your tongue against the dimple of his back and giving a wet suck, slurping up the syrup that had collected there.

“Sweet, like you” you mumble against his skin, shooting him a cheesy wink as he grunts at your stupid joke. He was more than willing to lift his hips though, as you started working his boxers down, Curly twitching again as you tilted more of the syrup against his skin.

Had he not been so sleepy and hot inside already, he might have complained as he felt the thick syrup run down between his cheeks, against his fluttering hole, which still felt sensitive from the multiple rounds you’d had the day before.

Your tongue licking against it was like a Band-Aid, but also kindling upon the fire in his gut. Curly shuddered and hummed softly into the pillow, hips lazily rocking back against your tongue as you licking and tasted all he had to offer.

Curly could feel you pouring more of the syrup on him, and part of his brain wondered if you had bought it, just to use it for this. Sugary items weren’t the cheapest, so it did fluster him a little more, knowing you most likely had saved up just to lick it off him. It made the familiar pulsing hardness between his legs dribble against the sheets, his hips rocking more intently against the bed.

“My pretty captain” you coo against his hole, only to follow it up with another wet suckle and slurp. One of your hands rubbed at his thigh, as the other pulled one of his cheeks, opening him up more for your hungry tongue and mouth.

You both knew you could have just pressed inside him, seeing as he was most definitely still loose from the day before. But the act of getting to lick him out and taste him like this was part of the fun, to feel Curly rut against the bed, but also back against your face, the taste of your spend from the day before, of Curly, and of the sweet syrup, flooded your senses.

It wasn’t the real syrup, the stuff they got from trees. Someone on your salary could never dream of even tasting the stuff, but it was a replacement version. It tasted a bit fake, but it was better than the cheap stuff. Add that to the taste of your lovers hole and his desperate panting, then it became a five star meal.

Curly let out a shaky keened noise as you finally pulled back, the blonde glancing over his shoulder again to watch as you slowly crawled back up again, pressing your chest against his back once more. “I love you” you mumble against his neck, grabbing yourself at the base to push inside him, Curly opening up with ease from all your prep.

“I love… you too” he gasped out, having to catch his breath as he felt your tip press expertly against his prostate. You had learned how to play him like a fiddle a while ago, back when you two were younger, and he was still studying to become a captain of a ship, and you had just started your career. You had both been so clumsy at the time, laughing and embarrassed, trying to figure it all out.

He let out a breathless giggle as you poured more lines of syrup against his back, licking it up from between his shoulders and up to his neck. “you’ll get it in my hair” he snickered, burying his face into the pillow once more as your hips worked together, his more desperate than yours.

“We can just take a bath” you reply, your voice rougher than before as you hold yourself up with your hands, moving your hips in rougher strokes, knowing that Curly liked it that way, to have his prostate struck over and over until he was wailing.

Neither of you really wanted to go far enough for Curly to start clawing at the bed, lost in tears of pleasure and fucked so good he couldn’t form a thought. At least, not now, not when he had just woken up, instead you stuck to suckling the sweet substance off his skin, the flavour mixing with the salty tang of his sweat.

Curly was the first to spill, his noises growing higher in pitch as his hips rocked in short quick strokes, downright humping the bed but also trying to jump back against you. Your captain got too desperate sometimes, no matter how many times you guys did this. He was normally too nice and too selfless, and times like this were the only time he allowed himself to be selfish.

His noises melted in a drawn out keen, which turned into a deeper guttural groan, his hips grinding hard against the sheets as he spurted all over it, your hips grinding against his from the back to push him further against it. “Good, so good. So good for me Curly” you pant, rutting against him a few more times before spilling inside him, adding to the mess that had mostly been licked up by yourself.

You both laid there, pressed against each other and panting, trying to catch your breaths and basking in the glow of being together. When he caught his breath, Curly lifted himself from the pillow, which now had some spit and tear stains as a result of his pleasure. His lips slotted against yourself, Curly smirking lazily at the sweet taste on your tongue. It tasted so good, even if he didn’t normally like the stuff, but on your tongue anything tasted divine.

…

A rattly exhale left his teeth, as there weren’t really any lips left to breathe through. Curly’s one eye was blurry as he stared up at the same ceiling he had been staring at for who knows how long. His mind had been slipping more and more lately. Every waking moment was pain, and whenever he slept, he dreamed of you.

Every now and then he swore he could taste syrup, even amongst the horrible taste of bile, blood, and the pain medication Jimmy force-fed him. Maybe the pain and isolation were finally catching up, his pained limbs thrashing weakly against the bed. Not because of pain, even if it was ever present. But because he longed for you. he longed for your eyes, your lips, your hands, your love. Anything to carry him through this… this guilt and pain.

Would you still want him, like this? You had always loved his hair, his eyes, you had always loved his handsome features. And what was he now, other than the sad pathetic remains of a man who deserved to die. But he couldn’t die, not yet, not when he had promised to return to you.

He could almost hear you. your loving voice which filled him with longing. Calling out for him, loving him, comforting him through the worst of his pains. Curly… my captain… Curly, Curly, Curly, C- “Curly?” a soft voice broke through the visions and illusions, at least most of them.

He couldn’t turn his head well, but Anyas face was familiar as it leant over him. She looked exhausted and like she had aged ten years from the stress of it all. She seemed relieved but also saddened to see him still alive, like part of her had hoped he would die peacefully in his sleep. “I don’t… I don’t think I can do this anymore, Curly. Its not your fault, but I can’t-“ she stuttered, voice shuddering and eyes glossy.

Hearing the rattle of the pill bottle in her hand made it all make sense. Poor Anya, another victim of Curly and his inability to do anything right. He wasn’t made at her, he hoped the few gurgles he could let out before the pain got too extreme expressed that. Her smile was so tired, one of her hands resting on his bandage covered bicep, before she slowly sank to the floor.

Curly could hear her breathing slowing down, even above his own raspy pained wheezing. If he blurred his vision enough, and let himself slide deeper into his mind, away from most of the pain, then he could hear your breathing too. He could feel it puffing against the back of his neck, your mouth pressing against his shoulder, up his neck to his chin, and against his lips.

The door opened with a whoosh, Curly only truly registering that time had passed from the look on Jimmys face, and how the room had started to smell more of death than before. Even as Jimmy lifted him, Curly still tasted sugar. He tasted you. he could almost see you leaning over the table, your loving smile on your face, even as more pain burned through his leg. Even as it all blurred more and more. Even as everything grew cold, and he heard Jimmy finally take responsibility, as you looked back at him through the glass.

He tasted syrup.

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valleyofheartz · 5 months ago

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I Love You, I’m Sorry

University AU

Pairing: Volleyball player!Sakusa Kiyoomi x Artist!F!Reader

angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, FWB to lovers, angst with a happy ending

WC: 9.7k

Synopsis: Falling in love with the pretty volleyball player in your first year of University wasn’t something you intended to happen; it just did. And then, two years later, the line between lust and love blurs. You want him beyond his body, but does he want every side of you? A part of you liked to think so, but Sakusa Kiyoomi is known for crushing hearts, and make no mistake, you were no exception.

Content/Warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, mentions of sex but nothing explicit, FWB relationship, graphic descriptions of blood/knives/wounds/organs (nothing actually happens), subtle hints of depression/anxiety, jealousy, curse words, one scene with a creep but its vague, pls lmk if I missed anything!

two August’s ago, you fell in love.

you remember laughing till tears cascaded down your rosy cheeks, face hurting from smiling so much. you remember soft touches; on your hand as you reached for the same item, on your waist when you squeezed by, on the corner of your mouth when you don’t seem to notice the crumbs that coat your lips. you remember a gentle smile, eyes crinkling the slightest bit as your heart stutters in your chest. you remember dark curly hair, mole kissed skin and eyes brimming with affection.

you remember everything.

bright, giddy, and curious, you entered university with dreams larger than the sun. your passion for art made you yearn. you wanted to draw everything beautiful. you’d sit by the tree near your campus library and draw for hours, music blaring through your headphones as you sketched pretty items, pretty scenery, and pretty people in your book.

it was under the tree you found your muse.

you recall forgetting to bring something to tie your hair with, leaving it to fall in your face when the the wind hit a little too hard. you squinted, frowning as you moved the strands out of your sight.

and then, as if entranced, you see the prettiest student walk towards the library. it’s like everything is suddenly moving slower. he’s clad in a- sports jacket? with your school logo, and black shorts to match. he has a gym bag hung on his right shoulder, but you find yourself more focused on the thick locks on his head and soft slope of his nose. his lips are full, pretty and pink. the slight chill from the air must be the reason why his cheeks are tinted as well, and your hands itch with the urge to draw this mythical being.

(first-year you was a little dramatic, but present you still understands her.)

you draw a rough sketch of him the moment he leaves, but you know had you had more time to look, you would’ve done a much better job.

✾

the second time you see him is at a party.

you had forgotten about the pretty boy as the days went on, more focused with school and handing in assignments. exams arrived, and then you were on break. your friends had begged you to show up, with promises of it being a fun experience even if all you wanted to do was curl up under the covers and sleep all day.

you end up wearing a cute outfit, somewhat revealing yet covering the parts you wanted to. your hair is styled with shiny clips that match your makeup. you feel pretty, and even though you initially did not want to go out, you think this might be a good idea.

“Y/n, let me know if you want to leave early, okay? And don’t drink anything random people offer you.” Kuroo grabs your arm, tone serious. you want to laugh at the usually silly guy being so protective of you.

you smile, “I know, father. No need to worry about me, it’s just my first party.”

Akaashi beside you ruffles your hair, “He has a reason to be worried, you’re a little too sweet for your own good.”

you scrunch up your nose, mentally disagreeing. you could certainly be mean. but they had yet to see you at your worst, so this made sense. you decide to let them keep this image of you.

Bokuto barrels forward, knocking into your back as you stumble into Kuroo’s arms. he catches you with ease, sending a glare towards his friend.

“Watch it, are you drunk already?”

Bokuto grins, “Pre-gamed a little too hard! My bad, bro.” he pauses, looking at you, “And the lady-bro.”

you stifle a giggle at his words, focusing on the warmth that emits from Kuroo. you suddenly regret wearing something that showed more skin, knowing you got cold easily.

“Tetsu, can we get drinks?” you grab his bicep gently as he looks down.

“Yeah, yeah. Let me just say hi to some of the guys and we’ll go.” he waits for Akaashi to come to your other side before walking, with you squashed between them.

you roll your eyes, what was up with them? it was your first time attending a university party, not your first time at a club.

you greet people mindlessly, and they all seem nice enough. you get restless after twenty minutes though, really wanting a drink. you tug Kuroo’s shirt gently, waiting for him to turn to you.

“I’m gonna go get a drink, you want anything?”

he frowns, “I’ll come, give me a sec.” he doesn’t wait for a response before excusing himself from his friends. they all wave him off as he guides you to another room in the house, which is more secluded.

you find the table, filled with all sorts of stuff you were unfamiliar with. one of Kuroo’s friends stands by, and you assume he’s keeping an eye on the beverages to ensure nobody spikes them with anything.

Kuroo gives him a quick nod before reaching for a bottle. he must know what he’s doing, however, as he pours you a mixture of two drinks before handing it to you. you take it with narrowed eyes, lifting it to your nose and oh, it smells fruity enough.

you down it in one go, looking back at Kuroo’s slackened jaw. you bark out a loud laugh, before covering it with your hand. “What?”

he shakes his head, “Nothing, nothing. Didn’t know you were so thirsty.”

you shrug in response, mindlessly scanning the room as Kuroo pours himself a drink.

despite the room being half empty, it is still fairly large. you can see a group playing beer pong on the left side, while the ones on the right are laughing loudly as they seemingly discuss something funny.

and then, your eyes land on him.

he’s standing with who you assume is his friend, with their back towards you. he’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, and the position allows his navy blue shirt to stretch with the muscle. you swallow when your eyes trail down to his slim waist.

broad shoulders and a small waist? surely that had to be illegal.

his black pants are loose, but fit his thighs nicely.

when your eyes go back to his face, you’re once again filled with the urge to pick up your pencil and draw. he’s not smiling, and you have a feeling he doesn’t smile very often, but it doesn’t take away from his beauty. his cheekbones are pretty and prominent, and you wonder how they would feel beneath your palms.

you bite on your bottom lip at the thought, feeling foolish for thinking about a stranger like that.

“Oh? Does my little Y/n have a crush?” a voice croons next to your ear.

you whip your head back with a glare, “Tetsu, no.”

he laughs loudly, head throwing back as he cackles. you frown, scrunching your nose at him even if he’s too busy laughing to see.

“Oh, c’mon cutie, I’m just teasing. Nothing wrong with a little crush, I would just recommend someone a little… nicer.” he says, out of breath as a grin stretches on his face.

you tilt your head, “Huh? You know him?“

Kuroo ruffles your hair gently, with you moving to fix it immediately.

“We aren’t close, but I do know him since he’s on the same team as me,” Kuroo smiles at the wide eyed look you give him. “i’d say i’m closer with his friend over there.”

when you glance back to the pair, you find that the pretty boy has his eyes on you.

your heart jumps, your body shivering as you snap your eyes back to Kuroo.

what the fuck? maybe you hallucinated that.

“Oh, your man is looking here.”

maybe not.

“Hey, want me to introduce you? Who knows, you might be able to defrost his heart.” he smirks, with you shaking your head to disagree. “No, thank you. I’m not going to defrost his heart like he’s some piece of frozen raw meat.”

he huffs out a laugh, turning into a cough when his eyes partially widen. “Well, you should prepare yourself, they’re both coming here right now.”

you look at Kuroo with an incredulous expression, “You’re fucking lying.”

“Such a foul mouth, cutie.” he lifts his hand up and looks beside you, “Hey, man.” he waves. he nods at the pretty boy next, who you assume nods back.

you finally allow yourself to look away from Kuroo and at the two new men in front of you. they’re both tall, but thankfully you’re used to being surrounded by tall men due to your friends.

you smile at the friend and glance at the pretty boy for a second, “Hi, I’m Y/n.” you’re thankful you manage to sound stable.

“I’m Adriah.” his friend says with a half grin. it’s boyish and charming, but you’re more concerned with the curly-haired guy beside him. your eyes dart to his next, anticipating an introduction.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

his voice is deep, it’s almost alluring. it reminds you of the dark chocolate you often pick up from the convenience store beside your dorm; bitter but comforting.

you always loved dark chocolate.

the thought makes your heart do a funny thing and your chest seize up.

✾

a year and a half later, you kiss Sakusa Kiyoomi for the first time.

you’re close friends by now, perhaps even best friends. you know him like the back of your hand; no, you know better than you know yourself.

you know his arms are covered in beauty marks, ones you’d like to trace with your lips. you know how his hair looks when he first awakens, eyes swollen and lips puffed out in a pout. you know his favorite food, and how he likes his coffee in the morning. you know he sighs through his nose when he’s feeling overstimulated, you know his lips press together when he’s about to say something mean. you know he crosses his arms when he feels like he needs to protect himself, you even know the brand of disinfecting wipes he prefers to buy.

you know he has a dimple on his left cheek when he smiles, you know how his lips stretch out all pretty when he’s caught off guard. you know the low timbre in his chest when he laughs, his thick steel walls suddenly nowhere to be seen as he allows himself to relax.

“Kiyo, please? I really want to go, and nobody else wants to come!” you beg, voice sad as you sit on the edge of his bed.

it’s 12:00PM, and Kiyoomi is still laying in bed. you understand, it is a Saturday, but you wanted to go out and visit the cat cafe with supposedly amazing tiramisu.

the lump on the bed barley moves, “Oh great, so I’m your last choice. I’ll pass.”

you smile, giggling. “No, you were my first choice, but you said no so I asked other people and they also refused, so now I came back to you!”

he lifts the covers, sitting up. he’s shirtless, and the sight of his bare body covered in pretty beauty marks makes your brain short-circuit. you turn away, huffing. “Put on a shirt you… perv.”

you hear a pretty laugh then, your head immediately turning back to catch the rare sight. he shakes his head, small grin still on his face, “I’m the perv? Not the one who’s red in the face and can’t even look me in the eye?”

you blink harshly, “I can look at you! I’m just… respecting your boundaries.”

you turn away again, crossing your arms. you hear the covers on the bed shuffle, and when you slowly turn around, you find yourself much closer to Kiyoomi than you thought.

you blink, moving to give him space and tumbling off the bed in the process with a yelp. he grabs you with wide eyes, moving so he takes the brunt of the fall.

you land on top of him, watching as he groans in pain below you. your hands are resting on his broad shoulders, and they feel smooth beneath your hands.

he sighs, laying his head on the floor. he looks up at you through lidded eyes. “So what now, genius? You made us fall.”

you shoot him a dirty look, “Well nobody told you to fall with me.”

“This is the ‘thank you’ I get? Next time I’ll let you get hurt, brat.” he rolls his eyes with a scoff.

you pout, bottom lip pushing out. “You’d let me fall and get hurt?”

he stares at you intently, not answering. you take the time to observe his face, wanting to burn the memory into your brain. you like the small bump on his nose. you like the way his bottom lip is slightly bigger than the top. you like the way his skin turns red easily, his cheeks often sporting a pretty blush even from the slightest chilly air. you like his thick curly hair, wondering how it would feel in your hands. you like his eyes too, dark and swirling with emotions you’ve yet to unravel and discover.

suddenly realizing your proximity, your eyes dart to his lips. plush and full, they look so inviting. you subconsciously lick your bottom lip, glancing up to find his eyes are also on your mouth. and when he finally looks you in the eye, you know if you don’t make a move now, you never will.

you lean in, slowly, and with a gentle exhale, you press your lips to his.

✾

a month later, you have sex with Kiyoomi.

it comes naturally, you think. soft kisses shared with hushed whispers were no longer enough. it led to heated touches and lust-filled eyes.

so when the two of you end up going further, you have no complaints.

he treats you exactly how you’d like, gentle in some ways and rough in others. you like the feel of his calloused hands caressing your skin, the rough bumps making him more attractive than you already thought he was.

and then you’re laying in bed, sweaty and covered in fluid. but his mattress is so comfortable, and your eyelids feel heavy.

“Y/n, we need to shower.”

“One minute.” you mumble quietly.

you feel a hand gently move hair out of your face, subconsciously leaning into the warmth of his palm. it’s gone before you can speak, and you have to force the whine down your throat.

you hear a sigh, and then feel a strong arm slide underneath your knees with the other behind your back as you are lifted into the air.

you squeak, hands scrambling to latch onto his neck. you look up at Kiyoomi with wide eyes, “Seriously, Kiyo? I can still walk, you jackass.”

he shakes his head with a small grin, and your hands itch to grab his face and kiss him senseless. “Are you sure you can walk? I’m not sure you can after all that.”

you change your mind, you want to slap him senseless.

“Ha-ha. So. Funny.” you deadpan, unable to help yourself and breaking into a smile when you feel his shoulders shake as he chuckles.

when the two of you are in bed, freshly washed and ready to sleep, Kiyoomi breaks your heart for the first time.

you’re laying your head on his chest, heartbeat steady and comforting as it almost lulls you to sleep.

his voice pulls you back, “Y/n,”

you hum in response.

“I don’t want you to misunderstand, I care about you, but I’m not looking for anything serious right now.” the words are spoken softly, but they cut through your heart nonetheless.

your body freezes, and you have to force yourself to relax when you realize he can feel it.

so what if Kiyoomi isn’t ready to date? you’re okay with kissing him, going out with him, and sleeping with him. you’re okay with that and not having a label. you’re okay with not being exclusive.

you’re okay with having him to this extent.

you’re okay.

“I understand. Don’t worry, Kiyoomi.”

✾

five months later, everything is the same.

and yet, nothing is the same.

“I don’t like this, Y/n. I think you should break things off with him.” Kuroo frowns, leaning into Akaashi’s side as he hogs the blanket to himself in the freezing cold apartment.

you pull your own fluffy throw closer, “There’s nothing to break off, Tetsu. There’s no label.”

Bokuto walks in, clad in a black tank top and volleyball shorts. “You can break off this unlabeled arrangement you have, Y/n! Just call it exactly that!” he smiles, hands on his hips standing proudly.

Akaashi coughs, “Bo, please put your air conditioning lower. We’re all going to get sick at this rate.”

Bokuto frowns, hands dropping to his sides. he walks to the thermostat, “Seriously? I think the temperature is fine.”

“That’s because you’re not human, you beast.” Kuroo snorts.

Bokuto turns around, looking scandalized. “I’m not a beast! You two are just weenies!”

you giggle, “Thank you for not including me with them, Kou.”

he salutes you with a cute little grin.

so maybe your friends were against your… situation with Kiyoomi. but you knew what you were doing, and while he might not want a relationship right now, you’re sure you can change his mind over time.

naive, perhaps, but you’ve always been a romantic at heart.

✾

everything comes to a head at one of their volleyball games.

you’re invited, of course. being friends with a few of the boys had allowed you to show up earlier and get seats in the front row.

it’s not your first game, but you’re excited nonetheless.

until you see Kiyoomi with someone unfamiliar.

she’s pretty, almost unearthly pretty. her hair is long, and cascades down her back like those magical waterfalls one would find deep in the forest. her smile is perfect, not crooked in the slightest. and when she greets him, her dainty hand smoothes over the skin of his arm; you walk faster.

Kuroo greets you first, with Akaashi and Bokuto coming behind him. you give them all your best wishes, but you can’t stop the uneasy feeling in your stomach at the sight of Sakusa with that girl.

when Akaashi sees your line of sight, he grimaces sympathetically. “Ah, that’s one of his friends from high school.”

your eyes shoot to his, and you wonder what expression you’re showing, because he comes closer and wraps you in a hug. you release a breath at the touch, letting yourself relax as he pats your back.

when you go to greet Sakusa, the girl is still there.

she’s sticking to him like a leech.

you try to get rid of the rude thoughts as you approach. she didn’t deserve your jealousy, nobody did. because you did this to yourself.

“Hi, Kiyo.” you smile.

he smiles back at you, and though it is small, it’s there. something in you settles when you think about how far the two of you have gotten.

the girl beside him is looking at the two of you curiously, but all you do is give her an awkward grin and turn back to Kiyoomi.

“Um, I just wanted to say good luck. I have a surprise for you, i’ll give it to you after the game.”

he raises a brow, intrigued. “You can’t give it to me now?”

you huff out a laugh. “No, silly. It’s a reward for you playing today. I know you’ll do well regardless of the outcome.”

his face smoothes out as he nods, “Okay, I’ll be waiting then.”

without another word you wave and turn around, walking to the seats and taking one in the front. you feel odd being the first to leave, but it was clear that the girl was not going to her seat until the game started. and while you’d like to talk to Kiyoomi more, you know you have to control yourself before you do something stupid like show him your jealousy.

the game goes by quickly, with your university winning the match. you cheer loudly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. it’s times like these that you truly cherish the joy in life. even though you hadn’t played in the game yourself, you can practically feel the positive energy radiating off of the players, and it fills you with excitement.

you run down and across the court, moving to hug your friends as you congratulate them.

“Y/n are you going to come with us to get dinner? Please say yes!” Bokuto widens his eyes, bottom lip curling into a pout.

you smile, happy to be included but knowing you have to decline. “Sorry, Kou. I already have plans with Kiyoomi. Can we raincheck?”

he nods sadly, and Akaashi pats him on the back in consolation.

“Have fun at dinner! I’m going to find Kiyoomi.” you wait till they exit the gymnasium before turning around and looking for the tall dark-haired man you were enamored with.

you can’t seem to find him through the crowd and the thought has you frowning anxiously. you stumble inside the group of people, breathing out when you finally see the end of the mob. with another exhale, you look up.

you see red.

because there is Kiyoomi, with the small pretty girl in his arms as she wraps her own around his neck. their faces lean in together, and if you didn’t know any better you’d assume they were about to kiss.

without even knowing what you’re doing, you march right up and grab his arm, tugging him into you with as much force as you can muster.

he looks down at you with wide eyes, and even though his hair is damp with sweat and his shirt is sticking to his skin, you find him to be the prettiest in the room.

suddenly realizing how this looked, you let go of his arm and step back. “What were you two doing?” you ask, voice soft yet loud enough for him to hear. the crowd has begun to disperse, leaving only the team and their friends in the gymnasium.

the girl looks awkward, glancing between you and Kiyoomi before taking a step back. “Uh, I’m gonna get going now. I’ll text you later, ‘Omi.”

your eye twitches at the nickname, and when Kiyoomi simply nods at her, you feel like you’re losing your mind.

he says nothing to you as he moves to pack his things, stuffing his towel in his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. he doesn’t even glance at you as he walks out, with you trailing after him like a lost puppy.

the walk to his apartment is short, but because of the silence it feels much longer; much more painful, like every step is with your bare foot onto glass.

when you finally arrive at his place, he shuts the door and tosses his gym bag to the side before turning to you.

“Want to explain what that was?” his face is cold, and the uncaring way he speaks to you makes you nervous.

you swallow, “Shouldn’t you explain? Why were her arms… Why did it look like you two were dating, or something? Why did you let her touch you like that?”

he chuckles, though it has none of the sweetness that it is normally laced with. “Why the fuck does it matter? You’re not my girlfriend.”

surprisingly, the words don’t hurt as much as you thought they would. no, you knew that already. what really makes your skin burn is the way he looks at you.

you feel dread creep up on you, goosebumps arising on your skin as you shiver. the look in his eyes is unforgiving, a stark contrast to the normally fond gaze you are granted with.

maybe that’s why it twists the metaphorical knife that is lodged in your stomach, scarlet blood seeping out as the squelch rings in your ears. it feels far too real, you can almost see him holding the knife as it digs deeper into your flesh.

“I never liked that about you.”

it's vague, but you feel like you understand what he means regardless. you ask him to clarify despite yourself. “Never liked what?” you whisper. your hands are shaking; you hold them behind your back to conceal it.

“The way you act around me. Like we’re in a loving relationship when really, we’re just friends who sleep together sometimes.” the words spoken are firm, leaving no room for you to even question whether he means them or not.

“I’m sorry?” you sound breathless, asking him to confirm what he had already said.

his eyes darken further, and you swallow harshly at the sight.

“You need me to say more to get it through your thick skull?” he scoffs, furious, and the sound cuts into your already wounded heart.

“I don’t like the way you coddle me. I don’t appreciate when you give me your opinions on things you know nothing about.” he pauses. you wait with bated breath, wondering how much more your heart could take.

“And, god, I really fucking hate when you show up at my games and smother me in front of everyone. It’s uncomfortable, and then you put me on the spot and act like you’re my fucking girlfriend.”

it feels like someone has plunged their hand through your chest, tearing you apart as they grasp onto your beating heart; you can almost picture it, the way the mangled organ thumps erratically as crimson liquid seeps out between their fingers.

you inhale shakily, “I just… I love you, I’m sorry.”

you look up, to see who’s holding your heart hostage.

“I don’t love you. I never have, and I never will.”

it’s him.

and fuck, it’s always him.

✾

two summers from now, Sakusa knows he’ll be playing volleyball professionally, for the first time.

he’ll have finished his fourth year of university, and he will be happy.

happiness.

Sakusa doesn’t exactly understand the emotion. sure, he’s felt anxiety, rage, and satisfaction, but happiness? what did that even entail?

he sits silently, trying to drone out the professors talks of another essay, and suddenly regrets taking a psychology class. because the amount of writing it required was a bit too much, even for him.

and then his thoughts go back to happiness.

oftentimes, Sakusa is told he looks mean; grouchy. and yet, he remembers an old conversation with Atsumu.

“So… you and Y/n?” Atsumu drawled.

Sakusa sighs, moving to pack up his things in the locker room. “It’s not like that, don’t go spreading anything.”

the blond raises his hands in mock surrender, wet hair sticking to his forehead. “Hey! I would never!”

and then he grins, though not as obnoxious as usual. it’s more kind, if anything, and Sakusa doesn’t know what to make of it.

“I’m just saying, ya seem a lot less grumpy these days. Happier.”

Sakusa pauses, staring at the chipped paint on the wall.

Atsumu sighs, swinging his bag over his shoulder as he moves to exit. “She’s good for ya, ‘Omi.” he pats his shoulder twice on his way out. “Don’t fuck it up, man.”

Sakusa stiffens; not at the action, but at his words. he quickly places everything in his bag before zipping it up and heading home.

if he’s a bit dazed at practice the next day, no one says anything.

when Sakusa lays in bed, he recounts the last time he spoke to you.

it’s been two weeks, and even though time has passed, it feels like just yesterday you were standing in his kitchen with your heart on your sleeve, letting him use it however he wished.

he remembers feeling furious at you, for so obviously disrespecting one of his good high school friends. and then you hadn’t even apologized, you’d instead pushed at him even more.

and then… he ruined everything.

he remembers the look on your face, the pure heartbreak in your irises as he carelessly spewed words he knew would hurt you.

it was not surprising when he walked into practice two days later to see glares of contempt by some of his teammates, who he knew were your friends. even Atsumu had looked at him and shook his head, and some part of him burned with shame. his mistakes were on display for everyone to see, and although he wanted to pull his walls even higher, he felt too distraught at the potential loss of you to bother.

he remembers laying in bed that night, finally deciding to break the silence between the two of you. but with a simple, ‘I’m sorry. Can we talk?’ he was able to find out that he was blocked.

he felt ice run through his veins, pausing at the vibrant red letters, spelling Not Delivered. he quickly opened Instagram and Twitter and found you had him removed and blocked there as well.

fuck.

he had really done it now, hadn’t he? he so naively believed that you simply needed space, and once he gave you a sincere apology the two of you could go back to the way things were; that you two could explore whatever non-platonic feelings he was beginning to develop for you.

but once he realizes the gravity of the situation, he wonders what the point is of experiencing love for the first time if it ends here.

it can’t end here.

he makes it his mission to try to meet you.

first he showed up to your Thursday class, knowing it ended at noon and you had a two-hour gap between your next one. he has a coffee in one hand and a freshly baked donut in the other. he drove across town to grab it, knowing it was your favourite. he knows a mere donut cannot make up for what he said to you, but it felt wrong coming empty handed to reconcile with you. not when you deserved everything and more.

except when you see him, you immediately turn and walk in the opposite direction.

the action stings, and he sighs once you are out of view. the bag with the donut in his hand feels heavy, his hand tingling with the rejection. he knew you wouldn’t forgive him so easily, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

I deserve this, he acknowledges.

I deserve this and worse.

it’s the next week when he has the chance to see you again; he knows you’re working, often meeting you at the cafe to pick you up and take you to his place home.

so with a deep breath, he walks in. the door bell chimes loudly, and he curses mentally when he realizes how deserted the place is at the moment. there’s only a few people inside; a man sitting in the corner as he types furiously on his laptop. a woman and two others sitting on the side as they sip on what he assumes is coffee or tea.

and then he looks to the front, where you stand, and your eyes are on him.

the moment he takes a step forward, you stumble back, as if burned. he stops, unsure if he should keep walking or simply say something as he stands ten feet away from you.

unfortunately for him, you seem to come back to reality and swiftly open the door where it explicitly states STAFF. a moment later, one of your coworkers walks out with their customer service smile, and he deflates.

third time’s a charm, he says to comfort himself. but even he knows it won’t be that easy.

it’s friday, and even though he had no idea if you’d be home, he figured it was worth a shot. so that’s how he finds himself at your door, with a bouquet of white Tulips in his arms.

“Hi! Is there anything I can help you with?”

he jumps slightly when he hears a high-pitched voice coming from behind him, turning around and smoothing out his face.

“I’m not sure.” he states quietly.

“That’s okay! Is there anything in specific you’re looking for? A colour, or a meaning, perhaps?”

he frowns; it feels like all he’s been doing is frowning lately. “Uh, maybe something bright? Or… something that symbolizes forgiveness?”

she smiles sympathetically, and he wonders what expression he must be showing to warrant such a response from a stranger.

and that’s how he finds himself here. he shuffles on his feet, clutching the flowers to his chest protectively. with a soft inhale, he raises his fist and knocks.

silence.

he rings the doorbell this time, and still nothing.

he exhales quietly, his head dropping as he stares at the old carpet that covered the hallways in your apartment building. he’s been here so many times with you, but now he sees nothing but the back of your door and he has nobody but himself to blame.

he stands in front of your place for an hour, mindlessly staring at the wall as he recalls his words to you. how you’d handed your heart to him with your bare hands, only for him to treat it as though it meant nothing to him.

so on Sunday, he lays in bed and recounts the last two weeks.

he wants to wallow in self-pity, but then he hears banging on his door and wonders which unlucky soul will encounter his wrath.

he swings the door open, face emotionless and mouth ready to open and hurl insults at the other, until he sees his one and only cousin, Komori.

“Hey man!” his cousin smiles, innocent and happy.

Sakusa hates it.

his shoulders slump as all anger vanishes, exhaustion left in its wake. “What are you doing here, Moyota,”

he walks back to his room as Komori closes the door. “because if you can’t tell, i’m busy.”

Komori snorts, “Busy doing what? Moping?”

Sakusa glares at him, but in his disheveled state he merely looks like a feral wounded puppy. he crawls back under his covers, face smushed inside his pillow as he feels the other side of the bed dip.

“Get your outside clothes off my bed, Moyota.”

he hears a huff before the pressure is gone, and wills himself to sleep.

“Listen, I know you’re upset about what happened with Y/n, but sitting in your sadness won’t get you anywhere.”

Sakusa continues to lay there. “Mhm.”

Komori ignores the dry response, “There’s a party on Friday. You should go.”

“Why should I go to a party? You want me to drink my sorrows away?” his voice comes out muffled but he’s sure Komori can hear him regardless.

“Y/n will be there.”

that gets his attention. he sits up, the covers pooling at his waist as he crosses his arms. “How do you know?” his eyes narrow.

Komori rolls his eyes, “Because, I overheard Kuroo asking her to come on the phone. Something about him finding her someone new to replace you.”

he clenches his fists, feeling the burn of jealousy take over. replace him? he knew you were well-liked in your program, often waving at people whenever the two of you walked together on campus. he was not ignorant of the stares you’d get from fellow students. but it didn’t matter then because he knew his eyes were on you, and yours were on him.

but now everything’s different.

now, your eyes are not solely on him. the thought has his chest hurting in a way that he can only describe as a stabbing pain.

“I’ll go.”

✾

the week passes by too slow for Sakusa, but he knows it’s only because he’s missing you. when friday arrives, he’s feeling somewhat optimistic about meeting you and hopefully reconciling.

he scrunches the products in his hair, freshly washed from the shower. he’s wearing black slacks and a matching button-up. he places a few rings on his hands and moves to dry his hair with a cotton t-shirt once more before exiting his room.

“About time, dude. Why is your hair routine so complicated?” his cousin complains from his place on the couch, looking at him expectantly.

Sakusa grabs his keys on the counter, “My hair isn’t pin-straight, that’s why. Why are you still sitting down, let’s go.”

Komori rises with a shake of his head as he walks to the front door and slips on his shoes. Sakusa waits for him to leave before locking the door and following him to his car.

the drive seems unreasonably fast, and his palms feel sweaty as he wipes them on his pants. he’s suddenly thankful he chose to wear black bottoms.

when he walks inside the house, he’s immediately hit with the smell of alcohol and sweat. it’s absolutely disgusting, and he has to remind himself why he’s there as he takes another step forward.

“Let’s go to the back! It’ll be less busy there!” Komori raises his voice, but Sakusa can just barely hear his words. he nods and follows his cousin to another room, breathing out in relief when he notices there are fewer people.

Sakusa subtly shuffles towards an empty corner, knowing Komori is following him. he turns around, leaning on the wall, “These people are revolting. When is Y/n getting here?”

Komori scratches his head, tapping at his phone with one hand. “Not sure, let me check with my friends. I’ll ask where Kuroo is.”

he scowls, “Why would that matter?”

“Because he wouldn’t leave her alone at a party.” Komori shrugs. “They’re real close.”

something in his chest feels tight at his cousins words. you and Sakusa were once close; and if you forgave him, he’d let you be even closer. he just has to apologize and hopefully smooth everything over.

a part of him itches to go and search for you himself. he feels on edge, knowing you are so close yet so far away. it unsettles him, the thought that if you don’t forgive him he’ll have to watch you from afar, and accept that someone will love and care for you all the ways he didn’t.

but - does he love you? he cares for you, immensely at that. but does he love you?

he thinks about your pretty eyes, always filled with affection. he thinks about your ability to make people feel comfortable around you within minutes. he thinks about your small hands, your shy smile, the feeling of your hair when he twirls a lock around his finger as you lay in his bed. he thinks about how you look with the sun seeping through the crack in the curtains, skin glowing and lips slightly parted as you exhale softly.

his heart beat echos in his ears. he feels a flush take over his face and places the back of his hand on his forehead. he suddenly feels hot.

maybe he has a fever? but so suddenly? he swallows, the sound echoing in his head.

and then he finally sees you, drink in hand as you throw your head back and laugh.

his heart beats loudly in his chest.

he places a hand above it, feeling the erratic thumps beneath his palm.

ah.

so he loves you.

Sakusa waits.

he waits in the corner, a drink in his hand, courtesy of Komori as he subtly stares at you from across the room.

it’s been about an hour, and you’ve yet to notice him. he cherishes the time, observing you from afar. he watches you giggle and wrap your arms around your friends, the gaping hole you’d left in his heart the moment you walked out of his life grows by the minute.

he’s contemplating what to do when you finally lock eyes with him.

he watches the smile slowly slip off your face, something akin to agony colouring your eyes.

he begins to walk towards you, not breaking eye contact for a second. it's like he's entranced. and when he’s right in front of you, he feels breathless; like your existence has left him at a loss for words.

“Hey.”

his voice comes out rough, and he clears his throat when your lips tug downwards.

your friends are looking at him with distaste, even Bokuto who normally sports a happy grin seems fairly upset. it makes him realize what a huge fuck-up he is.

he shifts on his feet, “Can we talk?”

Kuroo answers for you. “No, you can’t. You’ve said enough to her.” he steps in front of you, shoulders pushed back.

Sakusa feels irritation bubble in his chest, but pushes it down, knowing that Kuroo has a reason to be protective over you.

“I just want to apologize. And, confess something.” his voice comes out more desperate than he thought it would. it sounds fragile, even to his own ears.

Kuroo deflates, if only slightly. “It’s still a no. Find someone else to mess around with.”

“I'm not messing around. I just, I need to talk to her. Please.” the cup in his hand is beginning to bend, the cheap plastic cracking as the drink sloshes around.

Kuroo opens his mouth to what he assumes refuse him again, until a small hand grabs onto his arm and steps in front of him.

he watches as you let go of Kuroo, looking more composed than you had been before.

“It’s okay, Tetsu. I can handle this.” your voice makes his skin tingle. he realizes how much he’s missed it.

Sakusa’s shoulders drop in relief. he feels so happy that you decided to talk to him, he doesn’t even care that your friends are glaring him down.

“But-”

you cut Kuroo off, “Really, it’s fine. I’ll text you if I need anything.”

Kuroo looks like he wants to argue, but you give him a look that has him backing down.

he huffs, “Fine. Just be careful. Call me if he does anything.”

Sakusa stops himself from scoffing, annoyed with Kuroo’s words. what would he do at this point? what could he possibly do to make things worse than they already are?

you pat Kuroo on the arm and walk past Sakusa, turning back. “Let’s go.” you don’t wait for a response before continuing, and he follows you without a glance at your friends.

he tries to control his breathing, attempting to keep it steady as you enter the backyard. it’s empty, the chilly night air keeping everyone inside.

you turn around, crossing your arms. “So? You wanted to talk?”

he licks his lips, rubbing his forearm with his hand. he’s thankful that he threw his drink out at the garbage can near the back door. he can feel his hands shaking, and hopes you don’t notice.

“Yeah.” he exhales, “How have you been?”

you shrug, expression guarded. “Fine.”

he nods, expecting the dry answer but still feeling a bit dejected.

“I miss you.”

the words come out so abruptly. the two of you stare at each other in shock, and he almost raises a hand to cover his mouth.

god, why did he just say that?

you laugh, but it comes out less genuine than he’s ever seen. “You should be happy you don’t have someone pretending to be your girlfriend, right?”

his face drops, and he knows whatever expression he’s showing is not as stoic as he thought. because with one glance at his face you look like you almost regret your words.

“I was.. I was so fucking stupid that night. I know you have no obligation to forgive me, but please let me apologize.”

you stare at him silently, before nodding.

Sakusa breathes out, “I’m sorry. Nothing I said was true. I was just… angry. Not at you, at myself. I had been denying how I felt for so long and when you asked me who that girl was, I just lost it.”

he stares at the grass rather than your face, not wanting to know if you look at him with an unforgiving gaze. “I realized that I had unintentionally entered a sort of- relationship with you. I was scared. I still am.”

he lifts his gaze finding your wide eyes. “It was an unintentional relationship, but I wouldn’t have done anything different.”

he pauses, “Of course, except when I ruined everything. I’ve stayed up every night since it happened thinking about how I could have responded differently.” his lips tug up, the expression bitter.

“Because it was after that I realized my feelings for you.”

your brows furrow, your eyes darting around his face in pure confusion. “What are you saying, Sakusa?”

he ignores the ache of you using his last name, “That I have feelings for you.”

the silence is deafening as crickets chirp in the silent night.

“I love you, Y/n.”

you stagger back, as if wounded. you shake your head, “No, no. You don’t love me, Sakusa.”

he doesn’t understand your response. sure, you wouldn’t be elated. he knew you were still upset. but you look like you genuinely don’t believe him, like you refuse to believe him. he feels like he’s going to collapse if you walk away without acknowledging his feelings.

“What? I’m serious, Y/n. I love you.” he reaches a hand out, drawing back when you flinch.

“I’m in love with you.” he whispers.

you look at him, as though he has caused you immense pain, before turning away and running back into the house.

Sakusa stands there, alone in the dark.

he wonders if love is supposed to be so painful; if he will always be the one to inflict the pain, cause the heartache, and leave everything in ruins.

✾

"Shit." you curse as you stare at the empty fridge in front of you. an old bar of havarti cheese and two stale apples stare mockingly at you.

so perhaps you haven't gone grocery shopping in quite a while, but you've been busy! with assignments, your friends, and... Sakusa, you have had too much on your head to worry about things like restocking your fridge.

but now it's nearly midnight, and you have yet to eat dinner. your stomach rumbles at you, and you press a hand to it in annoyance.

you can skip a meal, it's not the end of the world.

but then your stomach rumbles again, and it's starting to feel extremely uncomfortable.

you check your phone, just to see if you can order in. but with one glance at the delivery price, you click your phone off. you stare at the sad-looking apples and cheese once more, making up your mind.

the convenience store is about a ten-minute walk, five if you run.

without another thought, you grab a hoodie from the coat rack and put it on. you pick up your apartment keys and slip into your shoes, bracing yourself for the cold air.

the walk ends up being somewhat soothing, the normally lively city is quieter. you use the time to think about your relationship - or lack thereof, with Sakusa. you still remember when he professed his love for you two weeks ago.

you remember rushing back into the party and telling your friends you had to leave. Kuroo drove you home, and you spent the night eating leftover icecream and binging Jujutsu Kaisen.

why couldn't you date someone like Gojo?

but then you think someone calmer, more steady would suit your personality well. someone who you could rely on and with a bit of sarcasm perhaps. someone who has dark hair; you always liked curly hair on men.

someone like him.

Sakusa Kiyoomi.

your thoughts are cut off when you finally get to the store. the lights are bright underneath the dark sky, the bell chiming when you open the door. you quickly grab a few rice balls, and walk to the cashier. it takes you a total of three minutes to get what you want, before you're walking back out with a plastic bag in hand.

you look up as you walk, the stars twinkling prettily. they remind you of his eyes.

you really wish you could stop thinking about him.

Sakusa makes you feel like you've caught a never-ending sickness. like you will wake up each day with your chest in pain, with your eyes swollen from crying paired with your unstable emotions.

its exhausting, you think; caring about people to a point where they cannot understand or reciprocrate your feelings. and then you always end up like this. alone. you wonder how long it will take for the other people you cherish to leave you too.

your thoughts come to a halt when you hear footsteps behind you.

its dark outside, the streetlights only providing a dim yellow glow as you walk. when you turn your head, you notice a man in a hood. your heart immediately plummets.

fuck, what had you been thinking? you should have ordered delivery, screw the price! the money wasn't worth your life.

you walk faster, noticing the person speeding up their steps. your breathing is becoming heavier, and you can feel your legs trembling as you continue to walk. you know you can't go home, otherwise he will know where you live.

you make a detour to head to a park you've been to many times. it was about a five-minute walk from your place, and the thought has you walking faster anxiously.

when you hear his footsteps draw closer, you turn your head and see he is much closer than before.

your breath hitches, and you find yourself tearing up in fear.

you are about to resort to an offensive stance, prepared to swing your bag of riceballs at his head when you bump into something.

you gasp loudly, flinching so harshly at the suddenness of the situation. you look up, finding familiar dark eyes. they look at you with bewilderment, but all you can think about is the pure relief that pools in your stomach, the tears building up in your eyes finally falling.

you rush forward and wrap your arms around him, breathing in the familiar scent. your shoulders are trembling, but they calm slightly when you feel an arm wrap around your waist and the other smooth over your upper back.

he looks over your shoulder, and you are unsure what expression he is showing. "Did you need something?" his voice comes out deep and - angry. you wonder if you are hallucinating the protectiveness that coats his tone. his arms tighten around you further, causing you to relax in his embrace.

you wait, body stuck to his. you hear footsteps retreating, and breathe out shakily.

"He's gone." he says, voice low.

you nod, but you stay in your position for a few minutes, content to bury yourself in his embrace after such a terrifying situation.

"Kiyoomi?" you look up, placing your hands on his chest.

he tilts his head downwards, "Are you okay? He didn't do anything, did he?" his brows are furrowed, lips pursed. he looks extremely concerned, and you feel surprised that he seems to care about you so much.

you shake your head slowly, "No, he didn't do anything. I'm - i'm fine." you lick your lips, trying to convince yourself to believe your own words.

Sakusa doesn't answer you, but he does turn his head and glance back before looking down at you. "I'll walk you home. Are you okay to walk? I can carry you."

you don't have much energy left, but you manage to laugh anyway. "I can walk, thank you."

you gently push at his chest, even though you want to continue to stay in his arms. you don't have that privilege any longer, and you shouldn't have assumed you had it in the first place.

you nod, however, and accept his offer to walk you home. you'll let yourself be selfish just this once, and then you'll let him go.

the walk back is silent, but Sakusa sticks close to you. you feel safe with him next to you, regardless of the fact that he hurt you so deeply.

he seems to protect you from others, but never from himself and his words. you sigh tiredly at the thought.

when you get to your apartment, he insists on walking you up. once at your door, you look at him and shuffle on your feet awkwardly.

"Uh, thanks for helping me back there and walking me home. I'll go inside now." you reach for your doorknob but he grabs your hand, pulling you closer. his head dips down, and he closes his eyes with a sigh.

"Please, just talk to me. I can't handle this." his voice makes you shiver, and you curse your body for reacting that way to him.

you lick your lips, "Can't handle what?"

he opens his eyes, tilting his head further down to catch your gaze. "You being mad at me. You ignoring me. Please, tell me what I need to do to fix this."

the two of you are standing so close, your cheeks heat up at the proximity. he still makes you so nervous after two years of knowing him, and the thought has you annoyed with your weak heart.

a shaky breath escapes your lips. "I don't know. You really hurt me, Sakusa."

he looks at you, face pained. like you being upset is causing him pain, and your chest aches to make him feel better.

"I'm sorry, I love you."

the words bring you back to that night, where you bared your heart to him and he trampled on it without a thought. you feel the urge to let more tears slip out, but you are tired of crying over people that do not care for you. you are tired of being the one that loves more.

but he looks different now. his eyes are filled with remorse, and you want to kiss his frown away. maybe, just maybe, this time you wouldn't be the one who loved too much for their own good.

he wipes a thumb underneath your eye, swiping over your cheek. you hadn't even realized you were crying until the concern in his face grew. it makes you feel embarrassed and angry at yourself, but you can’t find it in you to refuse his comfort.

"You don't mean that, Kiyoomi." your voice cracks involuntarily.

he shakes his head pushing your foreheads closer to one another. "I do, I mean it. I'll say it a million times until you believe me."

you huff out a shaky breath. "A million times is a bit dramatic."

"I'd do it for you." he moves his head to the side, pressing a kiss to your temple. the action has butterflies erupting in your stomach, unused to something so innocently romantic.

"You realize we have a lot to talk about? It won't be easy. I can't forgive you so quickly." you lean closer, tilting your head up.

he leans his head downwards. "I know. I'm sorry, just give me a chance and we can talk about it. I'll work hard to make you forgive me." the words are whispered close to your lips, his breath hitting your face. the minty scent is so Kiyoomi, it has your heart fluttering.

you know you have a lot to talk about. you can't just gloss over the month you spent apart, and you would have to talk to your friends about your choice to give him another chance. it would be difficult, and a risk. you were tired of pouring love into people who could not understand its substance.

but perhaps you can hope; you can hope that this time things will be different. that you'll love someone who will love you back all the same.

"Okay." you say softly.

he smiles, and you wonder if you are imagining the glassy look in his eyes. "Okay?"

you nod, whispering once more. "Yeah, okay."

he tilts his head down and captures your lips with his own, one arm sliding around your waist and the other in your hair, tugging you impossibly close.

you gasp into it, not expecting the desperation that leaks from his lips. he pushes you against the wall, with you wrapping your arms around his neck.

tomorrow, you'd have a lot to think about. you'll have to talk to him and figure out what's in store for the two of you. you will also have to face people who will surely disagree with your decision.

but that was a problem for the future.

for now, you're content to focus on the warm lips on your own.

EXTRA:

"So, what happened with that girl anyway?" your cheek is smushed on Kiyoomi's chest as the two of you lay in bed. you had come over to his place after his practice, and you were enjoying the skinship and cuddles.

he shifts underneath you, "Which girl?" his voice is drowsy, and you know he's falling asleep. you can't help yourself though, you've been curious.

you lift your head, smiling at his tired eyes. "The one from the game. She kept touching you."

you watch recognition fill his eyes as he hums, "She asked me to grab a coffee a few days after the game. Haven't responded though."

you nod, satisfied. "Are you going to? Respond, that is."

he turns, large arm wrapping around you. "Why would I do that when I have you? I'd rather the both of us get coffee sometime."

you laugh, "Are you asking me out on a date, Sakusa Kiyoomi?"

he smiles sleepily, planting a kiss on your forehead. "Yes. Let's get coffee soon."

you giggle, snuggling closer. "Okay, sounds good to me."

the surprise you had wanted to give to him after the game sits on his wall, framed and beside his bed. the drawing is one of your best, filled with the overwhelming love you know you could only ever offer to Kiyoomi.

love has always been something daunting for you. to love so wholeheartedly meant the likelihood of someone hurting you was greater. but you don't regret anything, not the slightest bit.

because you know how much love you have to offer, and as long as its to the right person, you know he'll keep your heart safe.

you love him, and you're not sorry.

a/n: 9.7k words later i refuse to read this again:’)

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa fluff #sakusa angst #haikyuu angst to fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu angst #sakusa x y/n #sakusa imagines

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jawbone-xylophone · 8 months ago

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Okay time to be really opinionated: I think almost the entire TMA fandom writes Michael Distortion wrong.

Every time I read a fic about him people are emphasizing how swirly and elongated he/it is.

What's scary about Michael is that it is essentially the living personification of gaslighting. He makes everything else metaphorically swirly.

Sure there's "nobody would believe you", but most people who meet Michael think he looks angelic. He only looks scary out of the corner of your eye, or if he's feeding you just enough truth to get your guard down. He's fun to draw and describe as a psychedelic nightmare, but he is basically the gaslighting demon. It's a polite young man with curly hair and a beautiful smile who you could absolutely take home to meet your mother.

You only know he's a monster because your lizard brain starts screaming.

On a related note, its portfolio also includes dissociation and hallucinations, and nobody takes enough advantage of that– like, kissing Michael. Lots of people describe kissing Michael as a very physical event with notes of static and that tingling sensation of limbs falling asleep. A good start, but my argument: you feel him smooching your cheek and giving your hand a cute little squeeze, despite the fact that he's across the room ordering a coffee. It feels so real. You can feel his callouses catching at your fingers, but no matter how you flex your hand there's nothing there but air. You don't know if you just want it that badly and your eyes are lying, or what. He brings you a coffee and the sensation vanishes.

I know exactly what that episode about "the man who wasn't there" was because I've experienced it, and nobody utilizes that enough. Have you ever closed your eyes and tried to walk through a room, and been Firmly Convinced there was an object in front of you you were about to run into, despite no evidence of such an object when you open your eyes? It's a little like that. Any sort of relationship with Michael Distortion (not recommended and likely a way it has killed many people) would involve you getting comfortable with the fact that your senses are lying to you at an exponentially increasing rate, like a frog slowly being boiled alive.

Is he there? Is he not? Does it matter? You feel loved. You remember being told good morning and eating a homemade breakfast. Did you actually? Maybe it's a memory from a year ago you only think is from this morning. He's adorable even if his laugh gives you tinnitus. Maybe you've always had migraines. He takes care of you through them. Can you remember what he does to take care of you? ....normal people stuff, probably. Ice packs. You think he brought you ice packs once. You're sitting at a bus stop, going... somewhere, for a reason you're sure, and your body is telling you you're sitting on his lap but you keep checking, tapping with your nails, and the seat is hard metal. Does it matter? Maybe it really is him. You'd prefer if it was him. These cute little hallucinations are his way of showing affection. It's comfortable, even when the city shuts off your water because you only thought you paid your bills. He gives you his coat in the rain, and you laugh together and run through the weather, but when you get home you're holding a stranger's purse full of cash instead of a coat and you have no idea why. It's his idea of affection, though. He says he loves you when you ask about it, anyway, and don't you need the money now?

He's a lovely young man and the only normal thing in a world gone mad. The gloves only come off when it's done playing with its food.

#thrak speaks #tma podcast #michael distortion

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jigeuminunbich · 1 month ago

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more than a little bit | kim donghyun (leehan)

synopsis — you’re not exactly sure what love is supposed to feel like, seeing as you’ve never experienced it and leehan is your first ever relationship. but after scolding him for contemplating a haircut, you realize that you might just be familiar with the sensation.

genre — nonidol!au, fem!reader, established relationship, and straight fluff

content — leehan wants to cut his hair (reader is strongly against that) and cheesy i love you’s

word count — 1k

author’s note — the fact this is my second (2nd) time writing abt being against an idol cutting their hair ijbol

“Woah,” Leehan pauses in the mirror right beside his bed, ruffling a hand through his unruly brown locs. “I need a haircut.” he comments, it’s quiet— intended to be taken as something lighthearted as he punctuates with a short laugh.

But you pull your head from your device at it nonetheless, eyes piercing into the back of your boyfriend’s head, “No, you don’t.”

“___, are you joking? Look at me,” he shakes his head, his long tresses following suit. Okay, yeah, his hair had gotten exponentially longer in the time you’ve been together. There was always the occasional comment from him or his friends that he was seriously overgrowing it but you happened to like his long hair— Leehan knew this well.

“I am looking at you… and you look fine.” You state slowly, almost as if you’re confused.

Leehan snorts, looking over his shoulder to glare at you through slitted eyelids, “You just don’t want me to cut it.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I still think it looks good.”

Not even a moment later does your boyfriend eject from his spot next to you to stand, “Well if that’s the case, then I’m cutting it—“

“No!” Panicked, you reach out to grab ahold of his arm. Leehan looks between where you grip him and the alarmed look in your eyes.

“You were saying?” He laughs as you recede with a sheepish attitude.

You sit on the back of your calves, reaching that same hand up to twist a finger in one of his curly strands, “It’s not even that bad, ‘Hannie. You’re being dramatic…”

Leehan soaks in the adorable pout that finds the plush of your lips before finding your gaze, “I’m the dramatic one here?”

That same pout deepens, almost teetering on a frown as you fully pull away from the boy. He watches you as you crawl back to your designated place on his bed. “Okay, fine, do whatever you want.”

Leehan’s eyebrows disappear into his mane, though an amused smile still plays on his mouth, “You don’t care?”

“Nope.” You answer, returning to the depths of your phone.

“Hmm. So if I leave out right now, you won’t stop me?” Your boyfriend continues to probe you, earning an eye roll from you.

Slow, he takes a few steps away from the side of his bed, walking in the direction of his closet, “Fine… I’m gonna get ready now…”

You nod, “Okay.”

The door to his wardrobe creaks open when Leehan leisurely twists the knob, “And I’m going to leave out to cut my hair…”

“Have fun.” You deliver him an uninterested wave which seems to be his last straw. The door closes as Leehan draws back to join you on his bed. You try to continue your stoic act but it’s hard when his body familiarly slots between your legs. His presence forces your eyes up from the meaningless content in your hands and to his gaze. It makes you giggle that he struggles to retain it without running the chance of a strand poking him in the eye.

“You suck at acting like you don’t care about me, y’know that?” Your hands reach up to push his tresses back into place as well as you could, completely abandoning your phone to the side.

“Fine. I don’t want you to cut your hair, is that so wrong?” You bat your lashes innocently.

Leehan bites back a smile, fighting just how effective the soft touch of your hands on his face and the flutter of your lashes is, “Is it wrong that you’re okay with your boyfriend walking around looking god awful? Well yes.”

This seems to personally offend you, an actual frown finding your features, “You don’t look awful! And who cares…” your hands travel to the sides of your boyfriend’s neck, pulling his body fully atop of yours.

“—you don’t even have to go outside, you can stay with me.” It’s muffled into the fabric into his t-shirt but Leehan still reacts with a deep laugh, you can feel his chest vibrate with amusement.

“Oh you’re crazy,” he determines, though it’s still lighthearted in nature. “Okay, I can endure one more week. Just for you.”

You shutter when he punctuates his declaration with a brisk kiss to the side of your face, and you try to ignore how fuzzy the gesture makes you feel.

“Awe, you love me that much?” You exaggeratedly ask, your tone is playful as you hope to tease your boyfriend since you’ve successfully persuaded him from touching his hair (for now).

Leehan laughs, shuffling from your tight grasp to hover over you just a bit, “Heh. I love you more than that.” His tone is light as well but his words leave a deep feeling to tugging in your stomach.

“… you love me for real?” The question tumbles out from your lips before you can even catch it, you hope Leehan doesn’t pick up on your split second of panic but of course, being the person he is, he does.

His merriment depletes for a moment as he adjusts to your evident shock, “I— yeah, I do. Of course I do.”

That pit in your stomach begins to swell with the flutter of butterflies, the giddiness that Leehan’s confession brings you shows up on your face as you beam a wide smile up towards him. “I think I love you too.”

Leehan quirks an eyebrow before he tilts his head, “You think?”

You swallow, slight panic running through you, “I’m not sure what it's meant to feel like but… it feels right—“

Your quick explanation is cut short at the melodic sound of Leehan giggling and half-hearted annoyance takes over your feeling of distress.

“I’m just teasing you, love. If you aren’t sure—“ Leehan begins to clarify.

It’s your turn to interrupt him, shaking your head with a content grin permanently painted on your face, “No, no. I am. I love you too, Leehan.”

Your reiteration of your love for Leehan leaves him silent for a moment, he leans down quick enough so you can’t catch the spreading flush taking over the expanse of his cheeks. You gladly return his intention to kiss you, giggling softly against his lips.

Leehan pulls away, opting to completely lay his body on top of yours. Your hands immediately find his scalp to play in his hair.

“Mm. To think this all happened ‘cause I threatened a haircut. I should do that more often.” He murmurs, a wicked snicker leaving him when you stall all movements on top of his head.

“You’re evil.”

“You love me.”

And that you definitely did.

#જ⁀➴ mads’ writes to:#kim leehan x reader #boynextdoor fanfic #leehan x reader #kim donghyun x reader #boynextdoor fic #boynextdoor x reader #leehan x you #leehan x y/n

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babybinko · 1 year ago

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Made a TON of Venture Bros. genderbends :D

Bonus + some of my thoughts on all the designs under the cut:

This is from a conversation I had with a friend about how Dermott and Hank would behave in this AU (its exactly the same as normal)

Ok now some thoughts on my design process

Hank: I think I drew Hank's face actually perfect, I made her so cute. I also feel like there's a common trope with genderbends where athletic characters get short hair so I gave her long hair and gave Dean short hair. I actually think the longer hair fits her perfectly. ALSO I LOVE HER BOOTS.

Dean: I gave goth Dean more Accessories than normal because normal goth dean had no fucking swag (it was besties idea to make her pants ripped). Even before I started drawing college Dean I knew I was giving her those legwarmers you can pry them from my cold dead hands. Same with the legwarmers I knew the first dean design needed a Jean skirt its just the vibes.

Dermott: The millisecond I even thought about doing Dermott I KNEW she would be 2012 grunge girl aesthetic. Gigantic shoplifting energy. Love her.

Rusty: I wanted her to look like a mean mom and I believe I accomplished that goal. Absolutely had to add the glasses strap. Very Jamie Lee Curtis.

Brock: I drew the one with the hair down first and my friends preferred the one with the hair up so I just did both. I wonder if she was a cheerleader in college and killed another girl on her cheer squad by throwing her too far/dropping them.

21: I drew 21 then I realized I had just drawn myself with bangs. Also I drew her with a blunt because there's an episode where 21 has a joint in his mouth the whole episode the other henchmen are standing in stupid poses in the background and its maybe one of my favorite bits in the entire show its so stupid.

24: 24 took several attempts to get the hair right I kept drawing it short and curly and my friend told me to give her Elaine from Seinfeld hair which I think ended up working really well.

Monarch: One of my favorites I did. I feel like this one you can definitely tell how Bayonetta completely re-arranged my brain chemicals as teenager. I love the hip cutouts, I made a tummy cutout to kind of mimic how Dr.GF's monarch costume is kinda skimpy. It's also hard to tell because of the cowl but I tried to give her like a finger waves hairstyle.

Dr.Gf: I tried a bunch of different hats but my friends liked the brimless hat the most and completely doomed him into looking like a Bellhop (more than he already did). Its giving Tyler the Creator at the 2020 Grammys. I still think he's cute though :)

Billy: I really didnt want to just draw her in a suit because thats boring. The show always gives me 60s vibes despite being set in modern day (I'm sure its on purpose) and I definitely channeled that with Billy. It took a couple tries to find a balance between fitting her body but still looking adult but I think I got it in the end.

Pete: YAYYYY PETE YAAAAYY!!! ^_^ Shes so Ava Max Coded. I also gave her giant buckles on her shoes to match his stupid ass one two buckle my shoes ass shoes.

Triana: Very much looks like putting emo boy in the Pinterest search bar. I made her thigh highs into his sleeves and I gave him square bangs like her.

Dr. Orpheus: NEEDED to make her a hot milf and I did. Its a little hard to see but her shirt has lace over the open part. I love the hair Jewerly at the bottom of her braid. :)

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too-much-tma-stuff · 6 months ago

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Reclaiming What Was Lost (Part 13)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

“Will you come up to the roof with me?” Dick asked softly, he’d pulled Jason aside once the Teen Titans filtered out to head home, Tim and Ellie had lingered a bit longer to hug their family members, but even they had left now. “There’s someone else who’d like to talk to you, if you’re up to it?”

Danny was there in a flash, sometimes Jason forgot about Danny’s enhanced hearing until moments like this when he leaned against Jason’s shoulder and half glared at Dick. “Who is it?” He demanded to know suspiciously, Dick looked startled.

“Oh, it’s…” He glanced back and forth between the two of them. He’d probably wanted to talk to Jason alone and underestimated the extent to which the two of them didn’t do anything alone at this point. At least not without prior discussion and, usually, having a tracker on each other. “Diana was hoping to see you again.”

Jason’s breathing caught in his throat and stopped entirely for a long moment. Danny looked up at him worriedly, pressing impossibly closer and giving a questioning little trill. “Jason?” He prompted softly. Jason shook his head, trying to knock himself out of his stupor, it didn’t particularly work but at least he was breathing again. He had been both hoping for and dreading this, and now that it was happening he didn’t know what to do.

“Jay, I don’t think she’s mad,” Dick said softly, stepping a little closer and resting a hand on his arm, ignoring or not noticing Danny’s little growl when he stepped into their space. “She doesn’t have a no killing rule like B. She is… upset, but I think it’s because of what happened to you, not because of anything you did, or being disappointed in you.”

“I hope so, because I don’t think I could stand her being disappointed in me.” Jason meant it to be a joke, but it came out far too raw. He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and nodded. “I’ll come,” He agreed, shaking out his arms and drawing on what determination he could.

“Can I come,” Danny asked softly, still tucked against Jason’s side, looking up at him with puppy-dog eyes Jason thought were probably unintentional. He didn’t mean to pressure Jason into letting him come, he just wanted to be there to help in any way he could.

“Yes, you can come. Just.. let me handle it okay? Unless she attacks me I guess-”

“She won’t!” Dick put in, shocked at the suggestion.

“Right,” Jason said, nodding again. “But unless she does, just hang back and let us talk,” He told Danny gently.

“Alright,” Danny said. It might be just a little bit of a struggle for him because he was used to jumping in when Jason was struggling to express his feelings, but Jason believed that he would do it. Unless Jason asked Danny to, so he’d just have to resist doing that impulsively if things got hard. Danny was good at expressing Jason’s feelings for him, but Jason didn’t want to rely on Danny for this, especially because he didn’t know the history between Jason and Diana.

“Alright, she’s waiting for us now. She has been for a bit but I didn’t want to break up the party and she said she’d wait as long as we needed. I know she was always your hero Jay, but she cared about you too,” Dick encouraged, before leading the way up to the roof. The stair to the roof access had never felt so long to Jason, he was glad to have Danny right behind him or he might have turned back.

Jason hesitated in the doorway when he saw Diana’s outline, sitting on the edge of the roof with her back to them, her long curly hair swishing slightly in the night breeze. She must have heard them though, because she turned to face them and smiled softly. Jason took a deep breath and stepped out of the doorway, walking across the roof towards her. She met him half way in a flash and he flinched as she reached out to him, and pulled him quickly into her arms.

“You’ve grown so much, Little Bird,” She murmured into his hair. She was barely taller than him anymore, it had felt like she would tower over him forever, and now they were the same height. He was an adult, he was grown, he still felt small in her arms.

He hugged her back and burst into tears, pressing his face into her shoulder.

“Ohh, little warrior,” Diana soothed and lamented, cradling the back of his head and holding him close as he sobbed like he hadn’t since he was a child. “You’ve been so brave, I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through.”

Why was he crying? He was crying for the child who he had been, the child who had to grow up far too fast and who had died. He had still been a teenager when he was resurrected, he was barely out of his teens now and he had missed those years he’d grown the most in a haze of glowing green rage. He wore a helmet so no one would know how young he was. Running his fucking empire of crime when he could have been in his second year of university if the Joker hadn’t killed him. Could have had a… not good, but maybe decent relationship with his adopted father. He grieved furiously for what might have been had the world been kinder.

“You’re still a warrior Jason. You’re protecting your people, as any good leader should. I’m proud of the man you’ve become,” Wonder Woman told him and Jason sobbed again, clinging to her hard enough that it would probably hurt an ordinary person but she was sturdy.

“You- You have no idea how much that means to me,” He gasped brokenly.

“I know, and I mean it. You will build a good life for yourself here, things will be better,” She cooed, rocking him gently. “You have your lover, you have your brothers, and your friends. And me, now that we know that you’re back you won’t be alone anymore. We won’t lose you again,” She promised him. “Just promise me that if you are ever in a situation like that again, you’ll call us this time.”

“I promise,” Jason agreed and it felt like he was finally able to breathe, after so fucking long the weight on his chest lifted a little. Danny believed in him, Dick and Tim didn’t fight with him, but Danny would have followed Jason anywhere, and not fighting was not the same as believing. That Diana was proud of him, that someone else truly believed in him, meant more to him then he would have imagined. “Thank you.”

A part of him wanted to pull away, pull himself together as quickly as possible to avoid the appearance of weakness. But he needed this, she had been like a parent to him and he had been so starved for parental love. He took a deep breath and tried to pull away, but she held him tighter.

“Take as much as time as you need to,” She told him softly, earnestly enough that he let himself believe it and relaxed back into her arms. She just held him as he cried out the years and the abandonment of his father, the death of both of his mothers, and all the shit he’d been put through with the League. “Never doubt that you are loved.”

Finally Jason pulled back and wiped the wetness from his eyes. They felt puffy and a little sore, but he felt much better anyway, if thirsty as hell! Jason glanced around and saw Danny hovering nearby, looking uncertain and worried. “I’m okay Beloved,” Jason said, opening his arms to his boyfriend who flitted into them immediately and held Jason fiercely, nuzzling into his chest.

“Thank you for coming to see us, Diana. Um, this is Danny, Hyena. He’s been my partner since pretty soon after I came back, and my boyfriend a bit more recently.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Diana said warmly, reaching out to shake Danny’s hand waiting till Danny decided he was willing to let go of Jason with one hand at least. Jason could tell as they shook hands they were both squeezing too hard, testing each other. “Don’t you hurt him, he’s been through enough,” She warned Danny softly.

“I’m not planning on it,” Danny agreed, leaning against Jason’s chest lightly. “We’ll invite you over for dinner sometime soon, if you’d like to come. Won’t we Jason?” He asked, glancing up at Jason who nodded.

“Of course, just give us a heads up and you’re welcome to visit any time really,” Jason reiterated.

“Thank you, I would like to get to know the man you’ve become as well as I did the child you were,” Diana told him. “I will call you soon. I want to have another… chat with Bruce tonight.” She said grimly, she gave Jason one more hug, and nodded to Danny before she leapt off the roof and across half a block in one bound, carrying on out of sight quickly.

“I told you it would go well didn’t I Jay?” Dick said, and Jason had almost forgotten he was there. He’d been hanging back, watching the touching scene. As he walked forward he brushed some tears from his eyes even as he smiled, the sentimental bastard.

Jason stepped forward and scooped Dick up in a tight hug, lifting his feet off the ground as Dick wheezed. “Ya, you did, thanks Dick,” He said before putting Dick down just as quickly. “Now don’t overstay your welcome. I want to go home,” He muttered gruffly, he had had just about enough emotions for today.

“Right, of course little brother, I’ll see you soon,” Dick agreed, patting Jason’s shoulder before he headed out as well.

Jason turned back into Danny’s waiting arms, drooping and letting his forehead rest on Danny’s shoulder, letting Danny hold him. God he was exhausted. What a fucking day. He let Danny guide him home using his powers to lower them through the roof so they could skip the stairs.

--------------

It seemed like after that disaster of a meeting the news that the second Robin was back was hot gossip in the hero community. It worked its way around the grapevine and Jason received calls from a few more heroes who found out who he was. Not all of them went well, some seemed downright disgusted by what he’d chosen to do with his life. But it was mostly fine, he didn’t really care what they thought about him anyway.

There was one call Jason still hadn’t gotten, and wouldn’t admit that he was waiting for, but he’d heard about what had happened to Roy. Kidnapped and cloned and kept unconscious for years by CADMUS. Ah the joys of being a child hero huh?

He went by Arsenal now apparently, and it seemed like what they’d been through, while not exactly similar… Well, they both had just about comparable levels of angst. Surely Roy wouldn’t judge him, surely Roy would reach out? Or was he too mad that Jason hadn’t reached out first, that he’d had to hear his friend was alive through the rumour mill? Jason would understand that honestly, he’d thought about reaching out, he really had! But somehow he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Danny could tell he was worried and was worried too in turn, hovering near him more often and watching as Jason compulsively checked his ‘work phone’. Danny had asked what was wrong, but when Jason had just shook his head he seemed to resign himself to waiting out whatever this was and supporting Jason as well as he could. Jason didn’t want to worry Danny, but he didn’t want to talk about his quiet yearning for his old best friend. Speaking about it would make it too real, and Danny would probably advise him to just call Roy. It wouldn’t be bad advice, but Jason just wasn’t ready to hear it.

Jason was just starting to resign himself to the fact that he was going to have to reach out himself when the phone call finally came. When it rang Jason snatched it up quickly and answered it before the ringing could disturb Danny’s sleep. Pausing the movie Danny had fallen asleep to so that he could focus on the call.

“Hey Fuckface, too good for your oldest friend now?” Roy’s voice came through the phone. It was deeper and rougher then Jason remembered but it was still familiar, it still had that slight, almost unplaceable accent that Roy had.

“Course not, it’s good to hear from you,” Jason said, smiling despite the fear that Roy was mad at him. Fuck it was good to hear his voice again!

“Then why didn’t you call me?” Roy demanded, furious and hurt. Jason couldn’t blame him.

“I… I wasn’t ready to, after everything. I wasn’t ready to be Jason again for a really long time and then I was worried it was too long and you’d be mad. I’m really sorry, I should have reached out,” Jason said, ashamed of himself.

“No… I’m still mad but I do get that,” Roy admitted, the wind leaving his sails abruptly. “I couldn’t go back to being who I was after what happened to me either. That’s why I go by Arsonal now, you heard that right?”

“I did ya, and I heard what happened too. I’m sorry dude, we both got the shit end of this ‘hero’ stick huh?” Hood said with a bitter little chuckle.

“Yep. And everyone’s still pissy we want to be a little selfish with our skills now. But I just want to live a good life and have a little fun now! And provide for my little girl.”

“Your-” Jason cut off, his jaw dropping for a moment. “Holy shit, Roy do you have a kid?!”

“Ya I do. Her name is Lian and she’s the light of my life. Her mama’s in prison so it’s just the two of us, so I do what I gotta do to provide for her while spending the least amount of time away from her I can manage. The jobs I take have gotta be worth getting a nanny to take care of her too, and you would not believe how expensive childcare is!”

“Congratulations dude! I’m sure you’re a great dad,” Jason cheered softly. He was, though the Roy he’d known before he went missing would probably have been a shit father the way Roy talked about his daughter now left no doubt in Jason’s mind Roy was a good dad.

“Thanks dude, I certainly try. What about you? No kids but I’ve heard through the grapevine you’ve got a partner?” Roy asked with a teasing note to his voice. It was like no time had passed, it made Jason smile even as he blushed just a little.

“Ya, Hyena has been through a lot of the same shit as me. He understands me, you know? He’s… he’s really good to me, puts up with more of my shit then he should have to and I love him for it.”

“Damn, I’d like to meet him. And see you. It’s been too long since I’ve had contact with… any of our old crowd you know? They just don’t understand anymore,” Roy sighed, Jason echoed the sound.

“Ya, I do know. You should come visit, we’ll get some drinks and the three of us can bond. You’ll like him, maybe you’ll get two friends for the price of one,” Jason suggested hopefully.

“Ya, maybe. That would be nice. How about.. Next Thursday? Weekends are always busiest for our ilk, eh?”

“Ya, that sounds good.”

“You don’t have to ask Hyena first?” Roy questioned curiously.

“No, he won’t mind. He’s pretty content to go wherever I go honestly,” Jason said with a little shrug.

“He’s there with you right now?” Roy sounded amused.

“Ya, he’s asleep with his head on my lap,” Jason chuffed, glancing down at Danny and stroking his hair, his presence barely registered to Jason anymore. He was always there, being with Danny was like being alone, but so, so much better. Being with Danny had all the comfort of being alone with none of the loneliness, coldness, or opportunities to spiral. He felt his heart flutter as under his hand Danny’s purr stuttered and then grew louder as he cuddled in closer.

“Hmph, will you wake him up so I can give him a shovel talk?” Roy asked, and Jason got the impression he was only half joking.

“No need, Nightwing already gave him one, and they’re all pretty performative anyway since he could beat up God in a Denny's parking lot… To be honest that’s something that’s bothered me. Not the power thing, I mean people want to give him a shovel talk about me, but no one’s given me one about him. And I’ve definitely hurt him worse than he’d ever hurt me, but there’s no one… left. Besides his little sister and I don’t think she will. She needs to believe he’s indestructible because he’s all she has left,” He sighed, letting his head fall back against the couch cushions.

“Holy shit dude,” Roy breathed on the other side of the phone, with a sigh that made Jason wince with the static.

“Ya, sorry, I think I got a little too deep there. This is the first time I’ve talked to an… actual friend in a while you know? I’m back in contact with my brothers, and Diana came to visit. But I haven’t reconnected with any of the old crowd and I don’t really want to talk to my brothers about my relationship, you know?”

“No, I mean, Ya I get it, and no worries. We really should meet up for that drink, and maybe it’d actually be best if it’s just me and you first time? That way we can catch up and you can tell me all about your worries. Maybe I’ll even give You a shovel talk, stand in for whoever would have done it for him if they got the chance? But I was talking about him being able to beat up god.”

Jason let out a bark of a laugh, he’d forgotten Danny’s powers weren’t out in the open yet.“Ya, he’s powerful as hell, he just doesn’t use them much because it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of us.” Jason agreed, nodding even though Roy couldn’t see him. “Meeting alone first sounds like a good plan. I’ll get the Birds of Prey to kidnap him for the evening, Harley and Pam absolutely adore him, and not just cause he killed Joker.”

“I’m sure they do,” Roy said a bit absently. “Hey, Jay?”

“Ya?”

“I really missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

#dc x dp #danny phantom #jason todd #dead on main #fanfiction #Hyena!Danny AU #wonderwoman #diana prince #nightwing #dick grayson #red hood #roy harper #dc arsenal #multi part fic

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

Text

falling is easy, catching is hard

rated m | also on ao3 cw: recreational drug use, implied sexual content tags: friends with benefits, secret relationship, shotgunning, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @sidekick-hero!!! Sandy, you deserve the world, but this 3000 word thing will have to do for now 💖

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

December 19, 1985

Steve Harrington needed sleep.

Eddie Munson had the only thing that would put him to sleep.

But Eddie Munson also held a grudge, a reasonable one, but an annoying one.

“You want me to sell you the last of my good shit? For half price?” Eddie snorted. “You’re out of your damn mind, Harrington.”

“Munson, please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Steve begged.

“Why would I do you any favors? You never did me any.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, waiting somewhat impatiently for a response from Steve.

Steve didn’t have one.

Eddie was right; He didn’t really deserve a favor from someone who had let his friends make his first senior year absolutely miserable.

But Robin’s voice looped in his head: “Be vulnerable sometimes, Steve. People may surprise you.”

“Listen man, I just really need to sleep, alright? I’ve tried everything else.” Steve sighed. “This is pretty much my last hope.”

Which was a truth and a lie. He’d already tried smoking some weed, knew that it worked.

Eddie’s forehead creased in the middle.

That’s kinda cute, Steve thought to himself before shaking his head. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted by big, brown eyes and shiny lips.

“You been to a doctor?” Eddie asked.

“The sleeping pills make them worse.”

“Make what worse?” Eddie pushed.

“The nightmares.”

Eddie nodded once, understanding flitting across his face as he relaxed his arms by his sides.

“How long you been havin’ them?” Eddie asked as he walked around to the bench at the picnic table, opening his lunchbox.

“I guess…technically years. They’ve been worse since July though.” Steve knew he had to be careful about what he said, couldn’t give away more than what the public knew about what happened at the mall, but Eddie seemed trustworthy enough to handle this part. “Doctors said it’s normal for trauma or whatever.”

Eddie nodded, whispered something under his breath, and shuffled through his box.

“Forgot you worked at the mall over the summer. Kinda crazy what happened,” he said as he pulled a small discolored plastic bag from the box. “I’ll make you a one-time only deal, Stevie.”

Steve ignored the butterflies in his stomach at the nickname, kicked at the dirt under his feet, and gestured for Eddie to continue.

“I’m not giving my product away for half price. I’m a businessman and that’s not a smart financial decision for my business.” Eddie held up a hand when Steve looked like he was going to argue. “But! I will share a joint with you right here, right now, for free.”

“Um. What?”

“I was gonna smoke this one tonight as a celebration for passing all my first semester finals by the skin of my teeth. I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.” Eddie’s smirk made the butterflies even worse.

Steve was going to regret this.

God, he was so stupid.

“Yeah, okay.”

Smoking with Eddie the first time was nice, but the second, and third, and fourth times were even better.

— — — — — — —

January 16, 1986

“You’re late, Stevie. I was starting to worry you’d gotten frostbite.” Eddie’s smile warmed Steve from the inside out, the shiver wracking his body more to do with the growing fondness he had for the curly-haired man in front of him.

Eddie was bundled up like they were in Antarctica, and to be fair, it was below freezing outside right now.

Steve offered to meet somewhere else, but Eddie insisted they come to his usual spot.

And then Steve saw it: Eddie had built them a fire. It was small, he probably didn’t want to draw any attention from the road, but it was throwing heat that Steve craved.

“Come warm up before we get into it,” Eddie waved him over, his gloved hands looking out of place.

Steve was used to seeing shiny rings on his fingers, blisters on his fingertips from playing too much guitar.

Steve stood next to him in front of the fire, holding his own gloved hands out to try to warm his body as much as possible.

“Any reason I couldn’t just come to your house or something?” Steve asked, not quite getting rid of the attitude in his tone.

“My Uncle has tonight off. He’s a pretty chill guy, but I think actively watching me sell drugs to someone would maybe cause a heart attack.” Eddie sighed. “I told him I had a date tonight so I couldn’t really have you show up after that.”

“A date?” Steve grinned, nudging Eddie’s arm. “I didn’t even bring flowers.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but looked away to cover a blush. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to put out until there’s a dozen roses in my hand.”

He meant it as a joke surely, but something in Steve’s chest clenched at the thought of spoiling Eddie like that. Maybe not roses, that didn’t quite seem his style.

“I’ll try to remember them next time,” Steve managed to say, nearly choking on his own words.

What was he even doing? Flirting? Eddie didn’t even consider him a real friend, why would he want him to bring him flowers?

“Got a new strain tonight. It’s supposed to be a little stronger, but fades faster, so you should be good to drive back home in a couple hours.” Eddie pulled the baggie out of his pocket, lunchbox long gone after meeting twice a week for the last month.

Steve wasn’t really a customer anymore, no matter how they tried to keep up appearances that he was.

He still tipped Eddie, or tried to, but usually Eddie ignored it and just said it was a favor to help him sleep.

“How strong?” Steve finally asked as Eddie pulled the lighter from his pocket.

“Might make you a little floatier than usual. Not hallucinogenic, though.” Eddie knew he couldn’t handle that kind of trip. That’s why he stayed away from his other offerings. “I tested it out myself earlier this week.”

Steve wasn’t reading into that.

“Okay.” He fought off a shiver, this time from actually being cold. “Guess it’s worth a try.”

“I’ll drive you home if it’s too much.” Eddie’s offer was kind, going above and beyond what a dealer would do for a customer, but Steve wasn’t reading into it. “Or you can nap it off in the van for an hour or so before heading home. Whatever.”

Eddie lit the joint, breathing in long and slow, holding the smoke until Steve was sure he would pass out before slowly letting it out.

He handed the roll to Steve, who didn’t think about what Eddie meant by stronger, and took his normal pull, choking halfway through.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he took the joint from him, his hand grabbing onto Steve’s arm as he coughed.

“Jesus Christ, man, you good?” Eddie asked him.

“Yeah,” he coughed. “Sorry. It is a lot stronger.”

Eddie searched his face, relaxing as Steve’s breathing went back to normal. “Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe take it slower?” Eddie teased. “Or- no never mind.”

“Or what?” Steve asked, already feeling the heaviness that came with smoking.

“Ever shotgunned before?”

Steve’s heart stopped. He’d venture to say he was even stone cold sober again after that question.

“Um. No.” He hadn’t. He’d wanted to with Nancy, figured it would be the only way she would be interested in trying weed, but it never worked out. “Would it be easier?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “Usually. We can give it a try if you want.”

Steve nodded before he really processed what he was being offered.

Eddie’s mouth would be very, very close to his. Possibly even on his.

And he’d be sharing breath with him, probably more than one if it worked.

Eddie pulled the picnic table closer to the fire and sat on the bench. He patted the seat next to him.

“Might as well get comfy, then,” Eddie said.

Steve sat next to him, close enough to feel the warmth coming from his side, close enough to hear Eddie’s hitched breath when they made contact.

Close enough to want to be closer.

“Alright, so I’ll start with a small one, and you just have to breathe in when I breathe out.”

“Is it-” Steve played with a loose thread on his gloves. “Your lips are gonna touch mine?”

Eddie suddenly looked nervous, like he regretted offering this at all, and Steve couldn’t allow that.

“I don’t mind! I mean, I want you to!” Steve panicked. “Like, it’s fine! I know we have to for the whole thing to work.”

“Yeah. Um, it’s not like, weird or anything. It’s just me helping you get high.”

It wasn’t weird, but it definitely was hot.

Eddie took a drag, leaned into Steve’s space, and cupped his jaw, tilting his head back for easier access.

Steve couldn’t breathe.

But he had to, that was the whole fucking point of doing this.

His lips parted and Eddie’s warmth coated him, covered him better than the fire.

He breathed in as Eddie breathed out, his hand seeking contact with anything solid to keep him on this earth.

He found it in Eddie’s hip, his fingers gripping tight as Eddie lingered beyond the point of the smoke clearing from his mouth to Steve’s.

Their lips brushed lightly, an agonizingly soft touch that Steve tried his best not to chase as it drifted away.

He bit back a whine at the loss, opening his eyes to see Eddie still surprisingly close, pupils huge.

It’s just the weed, Steve thought to himself.

It definitely wasn’t their almost-kiss.

Steve breathed out, swallowing once the smoke was gone from his mouth.

“Good?” Eddie asked.

Steve should answer him, should nod and thank him for doing this, maybe ask him for another hit so he could try to blame his fidgeting on being high.

But Steve wanted to kiss him.

Not shotgun, not barely brush lips, not act like this wasn’t something more than what it started as.

Robin told him he deserved nice things, and he deserved to be happy, and he did.

So Steve let himself try to have a nice thing.

“Again?” Steve asked, leaning in before Eddie had a chance to take a drag.

“Woah, big boy.” Eddie’s hands grabbed his shoulders, not pushing him away, but holding him back from making contact that he so desperately wanted. “Think that first hit might have gotten to you already. Let’s take a minute.”

“No, I-”

“Steve. You’re high.”

His tone was final, and something about the way his eyes darted away made Steve think that maybe this wasn’t the first time someone tried to make a move on him because he was giving them something.

He didn’t know Steve was into men, either.

Steve could just tell him, though. Let him know it’s not just the drugs, that he’d already had feelings for him before.

But the high was kicking in and Steve’s tongue felt like an iron weight.

“How about I get you some water?” Eddie asked, pulling away and walking swiftly to his van.

Steve didn’t protest. He did need some water.

Eddie sat on the other side of the table when he came back, handed over a bottle of water with a small smile, and watched as Steve gulped most of it down.

“This is good shit,” Steve admitted, slurring his words a little from the effort of moving his mouth. “Better than usual.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice treat once in a while.”

They sat in silence for another 30 minutes or so, though the time didn’t even feel like it was passing to Steve until Eddie stood up and guided him to the passenger seat of his van.

“Wha-?”

“I’m gonna drop you off at home. You got someone who can help you get your car tomorrow?” Eddie buckled his seatbelt, Steve tried not to be too endeared. “Maybe Buckley? Or Wheeler?”

Steve’s brows furrowed.

Nancy had barely talked to him in months, not since she gave him one awkward hug after Starcourt. Robin couldn’t drive, or at least said she couldn’t. That’s why he drove her to school and all of her work shifts.

“Maybe you could?” Steve suggested.

Eddie sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

— — — — — — —

February 14, 1986

Steve got him flowers.

He hadn’t seen him since the night he drove Steve home.

By the time Steve woke up the next morning, his car was parked in the driveway with a note on his keys that said ‘Promise there’s not a dent on her.’

And then Eddie had ignored his calls. He’d conveniently never been at his spot anytime Steve had ever met up with him before.

He couldn’t even pass a message through Dustin because Dustin was too curious for his own good and would probably figure out that Steve wanted to kiss him.

Which is all Steve thought about for the last month while he figured out what to do next.

Robin was no help at all, said he should just corner him after Hellfire one night and make a move if he wanted him so bad.

As if that could ever be an option.

This was his last chance, though.

He’d confirmed with one of his bandmates – Garrett, maybe? – that he didn’t have plans tonight and refused to sell on Valentine’s Day.

Steve stood in front of Eddie’s trailer, a bouquet of white and pink daisies in his hand, feeling particularly stupid.

The van was here, so Eddie was here, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk up the steps and knock on the door. This was maybe the most idiotic thing he’d ever done and he probably should leave before he was seen by someone.

“Steve?” Eddie opened the front door, confusion clear even from a distance. “The hell are you doing here?”

“I said I’d bring you flowers.”

He felt so dumb, standing here holding a bouquet of flowers for a guy who didn’t even want to sell drugs to him anymore. He considered dropping the flowers and making a run for it, but Eddie leaned against the door frame and scrunched his nose up.

Like he was trying not to smile.

Like maybe Steve did something right.

“Better bring them in so they can get water, then,” Eddie said with a hesitant smile.

Steve would take any type of smile, as long as it meant he wasn’t being sent away with his tail between his legs.

He rushed inside, didn’t think about the smell of Irish Spring coming off of Eddie, or the way his arm brushed against his side as he passed him.

Steve stood in Eddie’s trailer, taking in what Eddie called home, holding the flowers in front of him with hope.

Eddie closed the front door and walked over to him, holding his hand out.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers just for me to sell you drugs again, ya know.” Eddie smiled sadly. “I would have let you buy if you really needed it.”

“You won’t return my calls so how would you know if I needed it?” Steve countered.

“Ouch.” Eddie sucked a breath in through his teeth. “You’re right. I, uh, was giving you some space.”

“What made you think I wanted any?” Steve took the flowers back from Eddie’s hand, setting them on the coffee table behind him. “If I wanted space, I wouldn’t have bothered calling at all.”

“That’s what Wayne said, but-”

“Well, maybe you should’ve listened to Wayne.” Steve sighed. “I’m sorry I fucked things up by wanting to kiss you. I’m sorry if the flowers are too much. I’m sorry if I’m too much.”

Steve couldn’t look at Eddie after his confession, or his attempt at one. It may have been more of an apology, but he figured his intentions were clear enough.

“Steve. Stevie. Look at me.” Eddie cupped his cheeks, that familiar warmth covering Steve in safety. “You’re not too much. Don’t ever, ever let anyone tell you that you’re too much. You were so high, I didn’t wanna take advantage. I thought if I just left you to think about it long enough, you’d realize what happened was just from the weed.”

Steve shook his head, reaching his hands up to circle Eddie’s wrists. “It wasn’t just the weed. You’d know that if you let me talk to you before now.”

Eddie rubbed his thumb along his cheekbone, eyes dancing across the freckles that covered Steve’s surprisingly sun-kissed skin. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.”

“You’re forgiven if you listen now,” Steve took a breath, letting his hands run down Eddie’s arms and settle on his hips. “I like you. A lot. Definitely more than a customer should, more than a friend should, maybe more than a regular boyfriend should. It’s okay if that’s too much, but it’s what I have to give.”

“You’re really something, Stevie.” Eddie leaned in, pressing his lips to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I think I’ll take what you’re giving if that’s alright with you.”

“Please,” Steve breathed out as Eddie’s lips crushed against his fully.

Steve always felt so much, always gave so much, hardly ever had anyone who would take what he had to give.

But Eddie was taking it, forcing it from Steve to his own body, his own heart, like it was the only thing he wanted or needed.

“If you wanna buy tonight, you’re gonna be real disappointed,” Eddie gasped out against his lips when they came up for air minutes, maybe hours, later. “I don’t sell on major holidays.”

“Is Valentine’s Day a major holiday?” Steve asked, brows furrowing.

“It is when I get to have you in my bed.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“That sound okay to you, big boy?” Eddie was smooth. Who could have possibly guessed?

Steve barely got out a ‘yes’ before Eddie was pulling him down the short hallway to his bedroom and rattling off things he wanted to do to him.

Steve Harrington probably wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

But Eddie Munson would make it worth his while.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #birthday fic

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brynnterpretations · 6 months ago

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THE BOYS’ TYPES ☻

Annie January

GIF Source: @kylos ★ (link)

Someone kind, gentle, sensitive, and a bit nerdy. She is a Certified Yapper Lover™, and loves to hear her partners talk about things they're interested in, so passion is key for her; bonus points if it's about something she hasn't really heard of before (Hughie really got her hooked with a discombobulated Star Wars rant). As we all know, Annie has an extremely firm sense of right and wrong, so a potential partner's values are a make-or-break scenario for Annie. Admittedly, she finds nervousness and rambling very cute, and it's the first thing that typically draws her to a person. She's a fan of that anxious, neurotic energy — sorry-not-sorry. Additionally, for men and women alike, if you have curly or otherwise textured hair? She wants you.

Billy Butcher

GIF Source: @amazingmaeve ★ (link)

Since Becca, Billy's type has fluctuated a lot. Before and during Becca, he deeply appreciated someone level-headed, calm, caring, and intelligent; however, after her death, it's been hard finding someone of that personality that didn't just remind him of her. For short-term relationships, Billy is very attracted to firecracker types, and for long-term, appreciates someone sensible and a little snarky, yet able to be sensitive in the right moments, even if he may push him away. A hard rule for Billy, though, is that the person is able to stand their own. He greatly values conviction, and even if that person may have differing opinions, them being able to stand up for their own beliefs is something extremely important to him in a relationship.

Frenchie

GIF Source: @vcugifs ★ (link)

Someone quiet, driven, loyal, and with a secret soft side. Got walls? Frenchie loves them and wants to break them down (lovingly, of course). Considering his past, he wants someone understanding and with a "history" of their own, too — he's naturally drawn to people who have that aura and "roughness", for lack of a better term, to them. Being bilingual, or multilingual, even if it's not French, is a big plus for him, too; as a communicative person and someone interested in linguistics in general, he becomes a lot more interested in someone if he hears them speaking or writing another language.

Hughie Campbell

GIF Source: @olympain ★ (link)

Someone strong, independent, and passionate. As a pretty nervous guy, Hughie greatly admires people who can "stand their own", and is drawn to them in relationships. That doesn't mean it's all take, though — Hughie really likes someone who, even if strong, he can comfort, care for, and support, so if you're in need of any of that? Hughie's your guy. He also is pretty attracted to anyone who stands his rambles and doesn't give him crap for them — and, better, is actively engaged — and will fall for you pretty quickly if you're that type. So, in another words: if you'll tell McDonald's they put mustard when he asked for no mustard, he'll fall for you.

Kimiko Miyashiro

GIF Source: @amazingmaeve ★ (link)

Someone understanding, empathetic, and optimistic. It's suffice to say that Kimiko has been through a lot, and, like Frenchie, wants someone who she can relate to and move forward to better futures with. People who have a positive attitude in spite of their hardships are people she's greatly attracted to. Being chatty and willing to communicate with her often is also something she loves; she has a lot on her mind and likes to share it with the people she loves and see their thoughts on it. Similarly to that, she loves expressive people — not just because it makes them easier to read, but she finds it really, really cute. A bit random, but if you have a loud laugh, too, she'll fall in love pretty quick.

Marvin T. Milk (M.M.)

GIF Source: @vergeltvng ★ (link)

Someone loyal, resilient, hardworking, and honest — to the point of bluntness. M.M. is a no-bullshit guy and not someone to appreciate a "cheerleader" figure, so he greatly appreciates someone he can always trust to tell the truth, even when it's not pretty. Realism and practicality is also important to him too. Like Annie, morals are also a make-or-break for M.M., and having someone who cares about integrity, family, and justice like him is the most important aspect in relationships to him. Additionally, someone who's A) good with kids and B) good with his past wife. While he wouldn't hold any feelings for Monique while in or pursuing a relationship, his former family is extremely important to him. His potential partner having the maturity to recognize this situation, as well as holding a love for children (even if they don't want any themself), is very important to him.

#the boys #the boys headcanons #annie january x reader #billy butcher x reader #frenchie x reader #hughie campbell x reader #kimiko miyashiro x reader #mother's milk x reader

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zucchinitart · 6 months ago

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skinty LJ 💕

finally gonna make a ref sheet for this man!! repurposing an old sketch cuz I still generally agree with the design…I actually intended to render that old sketch but never did 😭

now here’s some never-before-revealed lore and headcanons!! (this all takes place in a story I’ve never created except in my head 💀 also some have been told, I’m just reiterating them):

-This is how LJ generally looks between the years 1817 to 1886. He was “born” in 1803, stayed with Isaac for one year, got stuck in the box for 13 years, and only started wearing bandages in 1817 once he became a target to the public. As he started getting more wounds, he found out that they would open up easily and opted to wear bandages most of the time.

-He can’t eat as he lacks a digestive system. Instead, he feeds on human interaction. The more positive the interaction, the better it is for him. Because he had such a poor relationship with humans during these years, he ends up looking starved. He’s quite weak in this state, and the only thing keeping him alive is his wit and his sharp nails for weapons.

-His limbs are black right above the connection of his joints (knees and elbows). The rest of his skin is white.

-His hair would be naturally curly, but due to improper care and the long length dragging it down, it ends up looking wavy and sometimes even straight, albeit very frizzy and/or greasy.

-In 1886, that’s when LJ and Lillian first meet (omg OC and canon??? gross 😰🤢). They create a pact, and he starts getting more positive interaction with humans. As he gets more “sustenance,” his wounds start to heal properly and he gets stronger. Unfortunately, most of his wounds have scarred over at this point and they remain on his body as it’s now recognized as “healthy” tissue. (Placement of scars will be in another post)

-Lillian is 23 when she first meets LJ.

-Before his strength improved, Lillian could actually beat LJ in an arm wrestling contest!! But after about a few months of being together, that was no longer the case. (Lillian’s ego was a little hurt, but it was inevitable 😞)

-Although it looks like it, he never actually felt starved. He doesn’t experience typical feelings like hunger or fulfillment.

-Sadly, he’ll never retain his curl pattern. Lillian tries very hard to get it back as she has her own experience with her hair, but she can never get more than a few curls on his head. She gives up at some point and just accepts his wavy/straight hair as is. LJ truly doesn’t care either way. If he had his way, he’d probably forget and never wash it again.

-the dickless look is on purpose!!! No reproductive system means no dick!! Yippee, no nsfw 🤗 Unless I feel freaky, which will most definitely happen…so if you ever see him with a dick, it’s just for my own nefarious purposes 😞

-When Lillian first found out how old LJ was, she said “wow, you could be my grandpa….” LJ didn’t take too kindly to that and scolded her like a grandpa.

-His body stopped aging once Isaac died. In this version, Isaac dies at the age of 21. LJ is physically around 5 years older than Isaac, so his physical age is stuck at around 26 (but it’s not rlly trustworthy as his body isn’t comparable to a typical human’s…I’d say it’s probably between 25-35 though)

I want to get into so much lore, but I wanna save it for when I draw a comic or something. Ty for reading if you read this far!! 💕

#laughing jack #creepypasta fanart #sketch #headcanon dump

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seokminfilm · 3 months ago

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pitapat | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warnings: non-idol!au, boyfriend!seokmin, sleepy!seokmin, bratty!seokmin (not really, reader calls him that once), domestic fluff, kissing, pet names/nicknames (reader uses 'babe', 'seokkie'; seokmin uses 'love', 'angel'), seokmin lays in reader's lap, sleepy!seokmin is a menace (a cute one nevertheless), waking up seokmin for the day proves to be a hard task for reader, cutesy morning antics ensue

now playing: pitapat (dkdk), fromis9 (see what i did there)

a/n: that first picture did something to me when i first saw it i'm gonna use it again just you wait☝

word count: 1063

"Seokmin, please get up." Sighing, you draw the curtains open, letting the sunlight stream though as your eyes automatically squint at the bright light.

Even though today is Saturday, you and your boyfriend have a lot of errands to run—groceries, buying dinner preparations, making book returns, scheduling a house hunting day, and cleaning your house for Seokmin's parents' visit were all on the itinerary for today, and you had to start now or you'd be behind schedule.

Due to your sleepy boyfriend's antics, though, you were close to being twenty minutes late.

"Seokkie, we've got to get moving. We have to go buy groceries and dinner preparations or we're not going to have a good lunch or breakfast later today." You shook him softly as he groaned, turning away from you as he continued to sleep, unbothered with your plea.

After a few minutes of tidying your room and hoping Seokmin would wake you, you resorted to kissing him all over—his arms, his legs, his cheek, and everything—to let him know that it was time to get up and start moving.

But, of course, your loving boyfriend hadn't moved an inch.

Seokmin was a heavy sleeper on weekends, and he wasn't one to stop routines out of the blue—it was almost already 10 am, and you had wanted to leave the house at 9:40 to get a headstart, but Seokmin had still not gotten out of the bed yet.

The sun was streaming through the windows too, birds chirping and singing along with the breeze—you were surprised the sunshine boy himself wasn't stirred by the warmness on his tanned skin, but he was sleeping like a rock, sharp nose buried into the soft pillow.

As you sighed, he let out a little snore like his was purposefully taunting you and the fact you couldn't wake him up with just your words.

Shuffling to the bed (still in your pajamas since you obviously weren't going anywere), you pile on top of him seconds later, pulling a groan from out of him as he starts to wake up.

"Seokmin, we've gotta go. We've got errands to run, babe." Your hands find a comfortable place on his neck, playing with the curly locks of hair resting at the nape of his neck.

"Angel, let's stay home, please?" Seokmin goes quiet for an odd amount of seconds, as if he's still sleep, but you know he's stirring, as his deep breath becomes more shallow and his muscles tense under you.

After a few seconds, he starts to turn on his back, and grasping the memo, you dive to the side, avoiding nearly being squashed by your cute yet very built boyfriend.

"Do we have to? I'm tired, angel—so sleepy and so comfortable and warm here," Seokmin's voice is groggy from sleep, but he still affords to let out a cute whine, to which you laugh and push the strands of hair from his eyes. His eyelashes flutter against his skin before his eyes open, revealing bleary and wet dark brown eyes.

"Yes, we have to, Seokkie. You want to make your mom's seaweed to surprise her, right?" Seokmin is half-asleep, eyes sharp and half-opened as he nods slightly, barely even moving his head.

He moves slowly in his spot, finding your lap before he adjusts his head to be laying on your lap. Your hands fall on his hair, moving the strands back from his face again as he nuzzles into your lap. Giggling as his face tickles your thighs, you push him away, leaving a limp Seokmin to continue to sleep for a bit more as you check your phone quickly.

Time was slipping away from you more and more, and you sighed, putting your phone away as you turned back to the impending task at hand: waking Seokmin up.

You press your warm finger to the corner of his resting eyes to get rid of the sleepiness from his eyes. "You need to get up and get ready—you have sleepiness residue, you know."

Seokmin lets out a small giggle, lips turning into a tired half-smile as he finally takes the initiative and tries toopens his eyes, stretching like a cat as his arms tense and he groans. "Sleepiness residue? What's that?"

"You know, the small crusts that form around your eye when you sleep, Seokkie," You sigh, obviously not exasperated for real as Seokmin chuckles at your explantation. "Sleepiness residue—I've never heard it be called that."

Sighing again at your boyfriend's slow yet tired mind, you start to get up, seemingly pulled back in bed at the second you have the thought to leave. Seokmin reaches his arms out to you like a tired baby, a pout on his lips as he still struggles to open his eyes.

"I like sleepiness residue, love. I wan' more." Seokmin's words start to slur, signaling his departure again. You act quick, slipping your hand behind Seokmin's stationary head and struggle to lift him up for a second before you lay him on the headboard.

"Seokmin, please. I need you to get up, babe." You say firmly, and Seokmin glares at you, eyes sharp and half-lidded yet making your heart flutter as he frowns. "I need my coffee."

"Lee Seokmin—don't you dare get bratty with me." You say, and Seokmin mumbles something sleeplingly, adding "I'm not," at the end of whatever he just said.

And here comes the onset of "Bratty 'I need it now' Seokmin", you think to yourself.

"And you will get your coffee, babe, I swear it. Now please—will you get up?" You quesetion, and Seokmin pauses, pretty eyes rolling in annoyance as he reluctantly agrees and makes his way out of the bed and into the bathroom.

"Fine." Seokmin has a pout on his face, and you kiss the corner of his lips before kissing him directly on his lips a few times. "Thank you, babe, I appreciate it." Seokmin doesn't reply, obviously a bit cranky at the fact that you woke him up early.

Seokmin always seems to recover from his tantrum when he's had his coffee, and you had a surprise waiting for him—two iced americanos and a pack of warm powered donuts at Seokmin's favorite coffee place.

"I love you, Seokmin. I hope you know that, babe." You remind him, and he nods, mumbling a sad "I know." as his mouth is still stuffed with a toothbrush. Pecking his lips—and earning the softest, cutest smile from your boyfriend you've think you've seen—the two of you finally get ready for the day.

taglist: @kyeomssant, @realmofclouds, @oojiehae, @kstrucknet (comment to be added!) || comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated! don't be shy to pop up in my inbox either <3

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akataiii · 4 months ago

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Go ahead and try (A Hawks x reader)

“It'd be so easy, you know?”

Tearing my eyes from the ballroom floor and casting my gaze to the right, I'm met by the sight of a smug-looking Kiki; a short woman with curly, purple hair and a pair of white dove wings residing on her back. She is also known as one of Hawks' most trusted sidekicks.

I turn my body so I'm facing her fully, readjusting my grip on the glass of champagne in my hand. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, tilting my head at her and quirking a puzzled brow.

“I'm sorry?” I ask, voice portraying the confusion I was feeling.

Kiki huffs, bringing her own glass of champagne to her lips and taking a languid sip while shifting her attention to the opposite side of the room. I follow her gaze, finding what, or rather, who she is staring at.

Hawks' pretty, red wings are unmistakable; standing out in the crowd and demanding immediate attention, almost as if screaming, ‘Look at me!’ And I did look. I always looked at my boyfriend.

I looked at how he gave his best every day, striving to be an amazing hero and somehow managing to muster up enough positive energy to make up for my lack of daily optimism.

Me and Keigo were pretty much two opposite ends of a coin, and yet we somehow worked together perfectly, making up that coin in perfect harmony each and every day.

“What I meant was,” Kiki starts, drawing my focus back to her, where she's taking another sip of her champagne. “It would be easy for me to steal Hawks from you,” she finishes, turning to look at me with a smug smirk.

I blink at her, momentarily stunned. Well, that came out of nowhere, I think to myself, (e/c) eyes widened in surprise. It doesn't take long for me to get over the initial shock though, instead letting out an amused huff before folding my arms across my chest, careful not to spill my champagne.

“Well then,” I say, letting my features fall into a relaxed and unbothered expression. “By all means, have at it. Try your best,” I prompt, trying my best to suppress my laughter at the astonished look Kiki sends my way.

“Seriously? Just like that?” She questions, looking slightly disappointed at not receiving any kind of negative reaction from me. “You're just going to give him up?”

I shrug, bringing my glass of champagne to my lips and looking over at Keigo’s bright, red wings again. “I don't see how it's necessary for me to put up a fight,” I reply, a faint smile grazing my lips as I catch Keigo laughing at something Mirko said.

“You have no respect for your relationship,” is the last thing I hear Kiki say before her heels are clacking loudly against the tiled floor, and she's marching away from me.

Nope, I think to myself, feeling smug and self-assured at my own thoughts. I just have that much faith in my boyfriend.

—

I stretch my arms above my head, hastily bringing one hand back down to stifle the yawn that slips past my lips. The cement of the sidewalk feels hard under my feet as I walk back towards me and Keigo's apartment, returning from the day at my boring, mundane, civilian job.

I don't regret my choice of not becoming a hero. The whole flashy, saving people lifestyle just never suited me, and I was perfectly alright with that. Even if my job was mundane and void of any flashiness, it never failed to fill me with a sense of joy.

How could I ever hate the flower shop I worked at when it's where I met my lovely boyfriend? I still remember the day Keigo came in, fresh on the job, and picking up the flower order for the grand opening of his hero agency.

Even if our relationship was rocky at first, filled with countless bickering and endless antagonizing (all from my end, oopsie), we ended up together and in love anyway, and I could never be happier than when I was by his side.

Of course, life is never that simple, and neither are relationships, especially that of a pro-hero. Keigo was never allowed to let the public know about himself, always forced by the Hero Public Safety Commission to hide behind the Hawks exterior they curated for him.

A select few people did know about our relationship, though. Mostly the heroes Keigo worked alongside and the sidekicks at his agency.

Which is where Kiki comes in.

It's been a week since her random confession to me at the Hero Gala me and Keigo attended. It didn't bother me; instead, I was only curious to see if Kiki would actually carry through her plan of 'stealing Hawks from me.’

Thoughts of how I could possibly ask my boyfriend about it swirl around in my mind as I continue my trip home. My feet hit the pavement in a rhythmic pattern, lulling me into a state where I was only half paying attention to the world around me. Suddenly, the red feather around my neck gives a violent jerk to the right, almost knocking me off my balance.

I stumble on the cement below me, regaining my footing before glaring down at the feather in confusion and irritation. It had settled back down and was resting innocently against the skin of my collarbone, like it didn't just almost choke me half to death.

Knowing it had a mind of its own and was likely trying to show me something, I shift my gaze to the right, the direction in which the feather jerked in. Immediately, my eyes latch onto the two red wings on the opposite side of the road.

Keigo stands talking to Kiki, hands raised in surrender and seemingly waving away something she's saying.

What a pleasant surprise, I think to myself, moving to lean against the nearest lamp pole. My arms are folded comfortably across my chest as I watch whatever situation is currently playing out in front of me.

I watch as Kiki says something else to Keigo, her lips curled into a wide, mischievous grin as her finger lightly pokes his chest.

Kiki is Hawks' most trusted ally, always going with him on patrol and assisting him on missions. Anyone with functioning eyes could see that they were close, and the media even went into its usual conspiracy theories that the two might be dating.

Keigo, polite as always, denies the accusations every time, waving them away with his usual smile and saying nothing other than, ‘She’s a great sidekick. Nothing more.’

I was never the jealous type and never would be. Hawks may be some flirty, charming hero persona created by the HPSC to be shown to the public, but in private, Keigo was happy to just be. While he was still a flirty and charismatic person in general, when he got off the clock and came home, he was free to do whatever he wanted.

I smile to myself, thinking of all the nights the blonde came home and immediately attacked me with a flurry of chirps and kisses, letting his suppressed bird instincts free. I would always dissolve into a fit of giggles when he twittered and chirped in my ear, telling me how much he loves me and how much he missed me that day.

Point being, I had complete faith in my boyfriend and trusted our devotion to one another.

Back to the current time, the feather around my neck gives another jerk, this one much less violent, catching my attention and causing me to frown down at it in concern.

In theory, or well, confirmed by Keigo, the red feather around my neck was just an extension of his body and Quirk, meaning the feather reacted the same way the feathers on his back did. Which could only mean…

I lift my gaze to inspect the pair of heroes across the street. Kiki had made her way further into Keigo's personal space, now standing only inches away from him and running a hand along his chest while looking up at him from under half-lidded eyes. Even from where I stood, I could read the seduction in her actions, and it caused me to physically cringe. Is she aware of just how desperate she looks?

I feel the feather twitch again, and with my gaze focused on Keigo, I catch the way the feathers on his back twitch as well, a clear indication of his discomfort.

As previously mentioned, I had complete faith in my boyfriend, and I'm also aware of how the HPSC controlled his actions and personality in public. I also know that Keigo is a considerate person and cares deeply for the people he works with. It's for those reasons that I don't blame Keigo for not immediately shoving Kiki away or yelling at her to keep her distance from him. Lashing out at her would only get him in trouble and nag at his subconscious.

I think for a few moments, mind filing through ways I could possibly save my boyfriend from the predicament he was in. My gaze falls on the twitching feather again, and my eyes widen at the newfound idea in my mind.

I kick myself off of the lamp pole, unfolding my arms and reaching a hand up to gently pinch the feather between my fingers, knowing exactly how sensitive the item is. With measured actions, I tentatively bring the feather to my lips and softly graze it against them, smiling when I catch Keigo stiffening across the street.

“Hey Kei,” I whisper, knowing the blonde could hear my every word.

Keigo's head whips around: beady, golden eyes immediately finding me and lighting up with a happiness I recognize all too well. He hastily pulls Kiki’s hand from his chest and makes his way over to me, all in a matter of mere seconds. A man too fast for his own good, I chuckle to myself, finding amusement in my own thought.

“Hello my love,” Keigo greets, arms instinctively wrapping around my waist and pulling me close.

I smile, soft and almost unnoticeable, but Keigo knows it's there nonetheless, and I bring my hands up to cradle his face in my palms.

“Hello,” I mumble, gaze fixed on the way Keigo's lips are spread into a wide smile, and his eyes are filled with that fondness always aimed at me. If there was ever any doubt as to whether or not Keigo loved me, all that you needed to do was analyze the way he looked at me. In those golden, sunset irises, you’d always find the undeniable answer written between his affection.

Keigo lets out a soft chuckle before pulling his face from my hands and closing the distance between us, nuzzling his face against my cheek with quiet chirps escaping his lips.

“Missed you so much,” Keigo coos, planting soft pecks against my cheek.

“You're going to get into trouble with the commission,” I warn, making no effort to put a stop to his actions of showering me with affection.

“Don't care,” he says, voice muffled where his face is buried in the crook of my neck.

“I know, but I do,” I say with a giggle, softly running a hand through his hair and pulling out a small twig that likely got stuck there when he was flying.

“I wanna kiss you,” he admits quietly, the sadness shining through in his tone. My brows draw together in a sympathetic frown, only able to imagine how trapped he feels, bound by the HPSC’s rules and regulations.

As much as I would have loved for him to kiss me right then, I knew it only spelled trouble for the both of us. The way his arms were wrapped around me now was already bordering on the limits set for us by the commission. Anything else would definitely end in ruin.

“Kei,” I gently warn, and he gets the message hidden behind the word, pulling his face from my neck and standing upright, releasing my form and taking a small step back. His lips are jutted out in a pout, and his brows are settled in a light frown, pulling yet another soft giggle from me at how adorable he looks.

Picking up the feather around my neck again, I place it against my lips to give it a kiss, and Keigo's cheeks flare up in a blush.

“I'll give you a proper kiss when you get home after patrol, Pretty Bird,” I promise, never missing the way my boyfriend’s eyes light up in excitement. Like a kiss from me is some holy gift bestowed on him from above.

“I'm holding you to that,” Keigo says, wings flapping behind him and sending a gust of wind my way as he rises up in the air. He gives me a final wave and blows me a kiss before he flies away, leaving me alone on the ground.

My eyes fall from the sky and land on Kiki, who is staring forward with a stunned expression, mouth hanging open in pure bewilderment and shock, as if I'm the one that just tried to steal her boyfriend. The ridiculous notion causes me to laugh, catching her attention and bringing her focus back to reality.

With a smug, self-satisfied smirk, I pull the feather between my fingers again to hold it out on display for the woman, my other hand raising to flip her the bird. (Pun fully intended.)

˗ˋ Bonus ˊ˗

“Hello my love.”

Keigo tackles me into the couch’s cushions, and I giggle freely at the chirps filling the air and the lips tickling my ear. I scrunch my nose at the sensation, hands burying themselves in Keigo's hair to try and reel him in a little.

“Hi Pretty Bird,” I greet back, earning me a happy chirp at the nickname. “I missed you too.”

“Hmm,” Keigo hums, placing another peck on my cheek and pulling back to place his forehead against mine. “Where's my promised kiss?”

My lips tug into a smile, and I can't resist the urge to tease him at least a little.

“Where's my—”

I'm interrupted by Keigo’s phone ringing, his ringtone blaring from the coffee table and disrupting the peace of our shared apartment.

We stare at the lit-up screen for a moment, both of us able to recognize the caller ID as that belonging to the HPSC. My stomach twists nervously, and I shoot Keigo a concerned glance.

“Did you get into trouble?” I question, fearing the answer would be yes.

Keigo looks to me as well, ignoring the phone still ringing in the background. His lips are pulled into a guilty smile, brows furrowed nervously. “I wouldn't exactly call it trouble,” he says, tilting his head to the side.

In his attempt to avoid any events that may have transpired earlier that afternoon, I find my concern melting away, replaced by fondness and endearment.

“Shouldn't you answer that?” I question, pointing to the phone still ringing on the coffee table.

Keigo sends a feather out to retrieve his phone, inspecting it in his hand before pressing the ‘decline’ button and tossing the device over his shoulder.

“Nah,” he says, lips curling into a lazy smirk. “I'd rather take that kiss now.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes, cupping his face all the same and pulling him closer to slot our lips together; the action so fluid and natural. Like it was always meant to be Keigo's lips and no one else's.

#mha #anime #fanfic #writing #mha hawks #bnha hawks #hawks #hawks x reader #keigo takami #bnha #oneshot #x reader #keigo x reader

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