#just a little bit
Dcmk/soccer short comic & doodles!
An amazing goalie, just not when a certain detective is involved.
The River
My fingers still fumble around the rope, you know. It’s not that the knots are particularly hard, or that my hands aren’t up to the task. That would imply laziness where there’s just inexperience. The hesitance of the unfamiliar. I watch men, better tyers, slide the rope through their fingers like it’s a fluid, like they’re just channeling the hemp, the jute, the silk, letting it flow and meld and double back on itself. I am jealous of those men.
But it flows a little through mine. It trickles, stopping and starting, juddering to a halt when I twist it the wrong way, or wrap it from the wrong end. It meanders rather than bolts, if you’d rather, dawdles instead of sprints. The way I make rope move has space for a snack stop at the halfway point.
Miraculously, the end result is somehow barely different from the adepts. It still coils around itself with a pleasing uniformity, and the binding is still strong, and tight, and ever so secure. It still squeezes the part of your brain that gets off on all of this, and I still sit back and marvel at my own handiwork. It still leaves marks in your skin when I eventually unwind it from your wrists.
The stream will grow faster, with time. I’ll learn, and I’ll improve, and the rope will burst through my fingers with the same vigor that I witness in the hands of those other men. The result will still be the same, but it will be achieved with considerably more efficiency. There’ll be less space for your mind to wander, the thoughts to creep back in, and the spell to threaten to shatter. Because this is only ever about maintaining momentum, and any pause is a threat to that carefully engineered atmosphere.
And we couldn’t have that.
Post link
TFW your rebel butch girlfriend got into yet another bar fight so you have to patch her up but she keeps complaining so you can’t even properly treat her wounds
Pairing: Keigo Takami x Reader
Summary: Keigo’s life is plagued by traumatic events. Life is constantly throwing cruelties his way and in the dead of night, it is this that plagues his dreams and turns them into nightmares. You have become one of the last bits of life in his life. Treasure him well.
Warnings:None. FLUFF and Hurt Comfort Fic.
Word Count: 1 304
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The night air is surprisingly warm during this time of year. The smell of spice permeates the air, no doubt seeping off the individual dozing silently besides you. Hawks, surprisingly, does not sleep with all of his feathers clustered together on his back or perhaps he simply shrugs them off every night to give you some space on the bed. It has been two months since Hawks began crashing at your place. Despite your initial reluctance with having a hero barging into your space every week, you have actually grown rather fond of him.
Originally when he first pleaded to stay in your house, you argued that he should sleep on the couch.
“But shouldn’t a guest take the bed?” he asserted
“Yes”, you, shot back, “when they’re invited.”
Like hell were you about to let him barge into your house uninvited to sleep in your bed while you took the couch.
But the Villain attack had been brutal on him so eventually you agreed to let him sleep in the bed with you. Of course, you had conditions, to which he agreed to. Your bed was a double bed, so he took one side while you took another and a “great wall of pillows” would keep the peace between you two. In the morning when you woke up, the wall of pillows was gone but so was he. He didn’t say anything else about it and neither did you until he asked to stay again.
With a little bit of persistent prodding and teasing you agreed to let him stay and since then he’s worn you down to the point where you actually went out and bought extra toiletries for him. Whether you like it or not, the sly hero has weaseled his way into your heart. One thing always bothers you though. Despite having a night where you’re perfectly comfortable in each other’s company, Hawks is always gone by morning. Perhaps Hero work just starts early?
However, today when Hawks showed up at your door, you didn’t offer the usual snarky remark about how he’s secretly a hobo and he didn’t offer any back. He walked in with the fakest smile you had ever seen him possess in your presence. He’s trying to act natural, you thought to yourself when he made a passing joke about the toiletries. You had simply joked back that you would eventually start buying him clothes too.
But in that moment, the smile he sent you didn’t hold any usual teasing. They were soft and yet at the same time held a deep rooted sadness. He chuckled before disappearing into the bathroom.
When it was time to go to bed, Hawks asked you if the pillows were still necessary. He gently thumbed the corner of the pillow sitting between you, in a manner that made you feel as though he secretly wished to rip it to shreds.
Stubbornly, you refused. The pillow was necessary for so many things like a peaceful night of sleep. Without it, you would be too awake, too aware of him, too terrified that you would wake up encircled in his arms and enjoying it.
You climb into bed with the pillows in position and whisper a soft goodnight. After a pause he whispers it back. You lay awake until his breathing becomes shallow and even. Till the tell tale sounds of sleep are the only noises in the room. You reach out a hand and gently grab the pillow but do not move it. Perhaps you should? This is the first time he has ever asked for its removal. He’s acting weird and his headspace is probably all wrong right now. But why does he want the pillows gone? What difference is it really going to make? Your thoughts lead you nowhere and eventually you roll over and let sleep wash over you.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Harsh, short gasping breaths. The smell of sweat filters through the air.
“Wait.”
A gasping whisper slides into the air. Repeating itself over and over again along with strings of incoherent words stumbling over one another. Desperate pleas and gasps of breaths.
“Please…no… Dabi…don’t want…not… help me…Y/n…”, he mutters out. The last word rousing you out of your sleep. Drowsily you try to make sense of the situation. Over the pillow Hawks, shivers in place. His trembling shakes the bed slightly and you desperately try to wake yourself up. To make a decision. To do something.
He gasps out a sharp breath of air before shooting up. His breathing begins to slow down as he drinks in his surroundings, slowly relaxing. You remain still, terrified to spook him any more. As he calms, he seems to realize something and he turns to look at you. His face is ashen white, even in the dark only illuminated by pale moonlight, you can see his blanched face. He takes note of your state and looks away.
“Sorry”, he whispers. His voice is so gentle. Could it be that he is terrified of scaring you any more? He does not look at you. He doesn’t even move for a long moment but you can tell that he is simply trying to pull himself together. You don’t need a hearing quirk to be able to tell how he’s trying to conceal his ragged breaths.
Slowly, ever so gently, he turns and begins to crawl out of bed.
“I’ll go”, his voice cracks.
In your drowsy state you lunge forward and grip onto his wrist. He stills beneath your hand and looks at you bewildered. You tug him back into bed and he follows like a sick dog on a lead. You grab the pillow between you with your other hand, not once letting go of his wrist, and chuck it across the room. The pillows were dumb anyway.
“The pillow”, he protests.
“Fuck the pillow", you mutter, “Come here.”
Hawks falls into the bed easily. His wrist is ice cold and his breathing is still somewhat uneven. Although he is no longer gasping for breath, the light tremors you feel from him tell you enough about his current composure. Whatever that nightmare was about it is enough to severely shake this hero apart.
Although he climbs back into bed, he still maintains a distance and doesn’t move any closer. But he’s still terrified. Still not okay and so you tug him closer. He hesitates for a moment. He looks you in your eyes, still frosted from sleep, and doesn’t move. You sit up a bit more and reach your hand to let it rest on his cheek.
“Hawks”, you whisper, “it’s okay.”
Your hand slides past his cheek cups the back of his head. With as much gentleness as you can muster, you pull him towards you and tuck him into your side. Chin resting on his head as he caves and curls into your soft embrace. His light scent of spice fills your nose as you listen quietly to him. Although sleep hangs above you like a burden, you force yourself to remain awake and listen to the sounds of his breath. His breathing slows down, little by little. His arms wrapped around your body begin to relax. Your fingers thread through his hair savouring the feel of his sun kissed locks.
“Hawks, in the morning, please stay”, you whisper into his hair.
For a long moment, you believe that he has fallen asleep. He says nothing, simply breathes deeply into your neck.
“Okay, we’ll stay together”
“Mhm”
“Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t.”
In your dazed and sleepless state, you place a kiss on his forehead hoping to comfort him. To convey how much you care. To let him know that even though he always disappears in the morning, you won’t.
“Go to sleep, I’m not going anywhere.”
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A/N:New Drinking game. Take a shot every time I use the word “pillow”.
@jinxqsu
