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Happy new yearr!! Started of the new year drawing icons of my 2 favorite p5 characters woo. These are free to use, just credit me if you use them! I might make more p5 icons later who knows
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Micah lays beside you, your head resting on his arm. Both of you are facing the ceiling. His scent, a minty vanilla, pervades your senses as you snuggle into his soft embrace— his breathing slow and even under your head.
The atmosphere is a comfort, domestic in a way you hadn’t expected it to become. Part of you has been extremely relieved that this is the norm, something so natural that the two of you didn’t even need to discuss. However, the other half is tentative in accepting this as a reality.
As sweet and wholesome all of it was, it made you wonder if this was where the line laid for the two of you. When you think about it, you haven’t even kissed him yet. Sure, neither you nor Micah had qualms getting close enough to cuddle (err, semi-cuddle? Could this even be considered cuddling if you’re just on him?). And yes, flirtatious conversations were never amiss in your day-to-day activities with him.
However, you can’t seem to shrug off the nagging concern that this might all just be…platonic. For fuck’s sakes, weren’t you guys just fooling around? After all, Micah came down to visit you on an impulse, and you encouraged each of his advances and fired back your own in kind after knowing him for one day. And somehow, someway, you both found yourself in each other’s arms practically every day— sinking into a lifestyle that required each other.
You’d hate to even regard this little doubt in your head but what if? What if you were a fling to him? What if you’re just friends and you’ve mistakenly established this boundary with him when you wanted more?
You try to find solace in Micah’s teases, and the way that they’re reserved for you. Or in how his touches are delicate when he caresses your cheek but firm when he holds you around your waist. But it doesn’t erase the bitter question within and you find your voice strained when you break the silence.
“What are we— even doing?”
Beside you, Micah stirs. “We?” You hear the grin in his cadence. “You’re staring at the ceiling while I’m enjoying your presence.”
He always has to speak in that snarky tone, doesn’t he?
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “No, like—”
Words dissipate in your throat. Whatever courage you gathered when you reflected on your relationship with him had gone up in smoke, and you wrack your brain for the best way to articulate yourself. But it is difficult— even more so when you remember that the foundation of this thing between you and Micah is nuance.
Even though you said the meanest of things to him, Micah would dig deeper to unearth what you truly meant. You could say you hated him and he’d immediately take it for what it was— a confession. You hated (loved) that about him.
Micah knew you just by listening and learning during your video calls. And as such, he knew to come through your window the very first time he booked a plane ticket to visit you. You never forgot how incredible that moment had been and you loved that this man can understand you, your boundaries, your wants, everything— even without you overtly stating what you had wanted.
It’s a one-in-a-million kind of bond the two of you shared, being able to understand each other beyond words. But as you opened and closed your mouth for the nth time that day, you hate that you can’t do such a simple task now.
Ugh.
Micah notes the stretching silence and he moves. You look up, and now the two of you are inches apart— your eyes striking gold.
“Like what, angel?” He smiles brightly as he always does, little toof sharp past his lip, and quirking his stupid brow. Somehow teasing you with just the expressions that he makes but being supportive all the same.
And maybe you need to take a class in communication because the only thing that escapes you after is…
“What are we?”
Regret bites back with a hot flash of shame because no one fucking wants to hear that especially when things have been pretty great so far. But, you did it. You said what you needed to say, and you can’t fight the blush rising up your neck. Being vulnerable has never been an option for you, but for the first time you feel like it’s possible.
Micah’s eyes widen and his attention travels to the corner of the room. His free hand splays over his face to cover up what you think is awkwardness— or worse discomfort—, and your heart palpitates with each second he’s silent. But beyond that, he doesn’t move the arm that’s under you, and you start to spy the red tint on the tips of his ears.
It’s now stifling in the room, a warm kind of unease that has you squirming a little. Unable to stand the silence any longer, you whisper, “Micah?”
He whimpers in response before returning his gaze on you. Micah’s eyes are a streak of shooting stars, zipping all over your face— from your eyes to your lips then back up to where you’ve pinched your brows in concern. They settle back to your hues and he licks his lips, stammering. “I–um–I don’t know what you’d like to be–with me. But–um…”, His face flushes in full. “I love you.”
Shock seizes you and your breathing hitches. What. What? What!
Your intentions for this conversation were to purely figure out what you could call this bond between the two of you— but you weren’t expecting him to drop an “I love you”!
Yet as unexpected of a development it was, you’re immensely relieved. He cares, more than you thought, and even confident enough to confess. It’s a line in the darkness of your doubts, one that you grasp so tightly that your hand on his chest starts shaking. He quickly notices and his free hand falls over yours.
“What’s wrong, angel?”
“I just…” Unsurprisingly, words fail, but your emotions carry anyway. What you couldn’t say is visible from your flushed cheeks, the smile on your face, the happy crinkle in the corner of your eyes. “You have no idea how badly I needed to hear that. I was so scared that you didn’t want to be more than friends.”
“Are you kidding???” Micah brings your hand to his lips, planting a kiss on your knuckles. He continues with a small laugh. “I come over all the time. Practically every day just so I can see you because I love you. I love your everything! Your bluntness, your laughter, and your stubbornness— especially with the things that you like.”
You giggle, turning onto your side. “Like how I like it when someone climbs through my window?”
“Exactly, like that!” Micah pauses, his head bowing slightly as he peers at you with a barely concealed optimism. “Although… I do hope that the only person you’d want climbing through your window is me.” He ends with a sheepish smile and you can't hold back a scoff.
“Are you serious?” Your hand flips from under his and your fingers fall between the spaces. Holding his hand between the two of you, you squeeze it gently. “There’s no one else, Micah.” Your tone is soft, unbelievably full of affection, that even you’re surprised by it. “You’re the only person I’d want coming through there.”
His lips part in a smile that he quickly tries to smother, little toof poking out. “O-Oh, yeah, I totally knew that.” Micah squeaks, and he clears his throat. “I mean, can you imagine if your friends did that? They wouldn’t be able to compare to me.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But, I’ll never find out because only the people I like romantically can try, and you’re the only who qualifies.”
Micah’s face explodes in a palette of scarlet, the hue turning darker by the second as he stammers. “What? You l-like me?”
Your laughter bubbles out of you. “You just told me you love me. How is me confessing my feelings to you the thing that makes you more embarrassed?”
“I already confessed to you the second day we talked, and then, on the third day as well! I already knew that I love you! I’m just finding out that you like me!”
Disbelief floods your system, warming your cheeks, and aching your stomach with a laughter you couldn’t stop. Who knew that Micah shared your own insecurities. Though you suppose, you haven’t made it easy for him to decipher your feelings. It’s just crazy to think that he was just as nervous about the relationship as you are.
Brushing away a tear in your eye, you say, “I can’t believe you— did you not realize that I let you come over all the time? Or that I call you when I get the chance? Oh my fucking god, Micah, we’re cuddling! Like, right now! Do you think I do that with just anyone?”
He pouts, defensive. “No! But like— how was I supposed to know! I told you that I like liked you but you never said anything back. So I just–I just assumed that this was what you wanted!”
“Oh, okay, hold on.” You sat up on one elbow, short giggles escaping you as he did the same. “What do you mean by like liked?”
“You know, like I like liked you!--Or well! Like like–because, right now, I am liking you very much.” Micah hurries to explain and you quirk up a brow, the mock offense on your face destroyed by the smile that just won’t go away.
“What’s with this downgrade from love?”
He whines, “My feelings are still the same! I just— get embarrassed repeating it so many times if you don’t feel the same.” The pout on his face deepens and you straighten up.
Wiping off all semblances of a joke on your visage, you swear, “I do! I feel the same way, Micah!”
You could feel the room warm with the heat that’s radiating from Micah. An array of emotions flurry past his face: surprise, ease, elation— they color his cheeks with a pretty pink and light his golden eyes with a sparkle.
“T-Then, would you have me as your partner?”
Your chest flutters. God, you wanted to hear that for so long. “Of course I would, you dork.” You roll over him, arms flying around his neck and legs on either side of him. Giggles fill the room from the both of you as Micah’s hand drops to your waist. His hold is tight when he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, and you feel so loved in the moment.
You’re more of an idiot than you thought if it took you this long to realize how much he loved you, that the tension between each video call was romance and want. But at least you now knew, and the fact cements you with a weighted comfort. You relax against him, so content with how close you are to Micah and how perfectly the two of you fit in each other’s embrace. You can only hope that he feels the same when he’s with you.
After several minutes of silence, in which your hand had come up to play with his hair— getting tangled in his locks, and he hums, amused— your partner starts laughing.
“What?” You ask, already smiling just from hearing his delight.
Micah’s lips pull into a smirk. “Nothing. Just thinking about how you like me sooooo much!”
You playfully roll your eyes. “Not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come on. You think I’m soooo cute~.” He snickers here, as if there’s a joke to be had, and he presses his fingers on your side to tickle you. You squirm under his attack as he continues, nose nuzzling your neck. “You like it when I come over, and you wanted me so bad you were so nervous to confess to me, awww~~”
“Yeah, right!” You manage between the laughter he steals from you and you can feel him grin against your skin.
“Look at you, you’re embarrassed~ God, you’re so cute when you wanna kiss me sooooo bad~”
At his words, you rise from your position— high enough so that you can see his face. Micah’s still smiling, unaware of the weight he just dropped, and your eyes focus on his lips. You briefly wonder how it would feel to have them against yours. For his split tongue, that you only get to see when he’s being mischievous, run over your skin. And his piercing— god, his piercing— how would that feel when he’s licking up your thigh, marking your body?
You swallow thickly at the thought. Your wants were already being voiced before you can think to be coy about it. “Micah… can I kiss you?”
He stills underneath you. You feel the shake in his hands, the way they flex slightly— stiffening then loosening around you, repeating again and again. Slowly, Micah’s eyes drop to your lips and you lick them, too aware of his attention.
“What?” He breathes, still shocked.
You look away, embarrassed. “Don’t make me ask again, idiot…”
Your heart’s already pounding from how brazen you were to ask in the first place, but it speeds up even more when you feel his hand caress your cheek. His thumb lightly grazes your lower lip, and Micah gently returns your attention back on him. The gold in his eyes are half hidden, lidded with desire, and you knew that he was thinking the same thing you did.
Then he leans up and you feel the softness of his lips on yours. It was chaste, a tentative question to ask if that was okay, and when you bend down to meet him halfway again, Micah becomes a bit more confident. His hand holding your chin smooths over to the back of your neck, and he pulls you into him. Lips molding against yours, a quiet noise escapes him as his other hand presses on the small of your back— wanting you closer.
His small greed entices you, and your hands in his hair shift down to cradle his jaw. You’re a bit more bold when you kiss him back, tongue swiping against his lip, wanting permission to enter his mouth. Micah relents easily and your tongue darts in, stroking for the piercing you wanted to feel. When you find it, a moan hikes up your throat as Micah groans. His hips buck up to meet yours, and you squeak into his mouth, startled. It had to be subconscious, it had to be, because not even a second later, Micah’s whispering a “sorry” between kisses.
Sorry? Sorry for what?
Art by @rainslices
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It was once again 5PM on a Friday evening, and Akira was nearly vibrating in place at the anticipation of what this hour would bring once again. He fluffed a bouquet on display on a stand nearby just to occupy his hands, wishing that time would pass faster. College this week had been rough, preparations for winter finals fully under way, and Akira couldn’t wait to relax over the weekend, his very first step to unloading his stress soon to walk through the doors of the flower store.
“What’s got you in such a bright mood, Kurusu?” his boss asked, trimming stems on a bucket of tulips at the counter. “You’re so chipper on Friday evenings, even though you come here straight out of school!”
“It’s nothing. I just thought of something nice,” Akira dismissed her, and when the door to the store suddenly opened with a jingle of the glass chime, Akira whipped around with his heart in his throat. “Welcome to Rafflesia!”
“Hello.” The boy who had walked in was the one Akira had been waiting for, the one that he waited for every Friday evening for the last month. The urge to grin was strong, but Akira settled for a polite smile, bowing to his favourite customer.
“Welcome back,” he amended his greeting, walking up to meet the young man with the soft brown hair and the yellow peacoat. “What bouquet can I help you with today?”
“I didn’t realize I was being remembered,” the man chuckled, low and pleasant but distinctively sad somehow. He loosened the knitted scarf around his neck as he met Akira’s gaze, his dark red eyes tired, but curious. The twinkle in them spoke both of melancholy and amusement.
Akira’s heart skipped a beat, overcome with the urge to unravel all the dichotomies that made up the man he wanted to love.
hi i found these blushy akechi thingies and thought you'd appreciate them!!! they have transparent backgrounds, so you may be able to make some cool stuff with em!!!
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#94 “Will you ever forget my number? No? Ah, because you still love me.”
Oh... Angst Time, babey
Yusuke eyed on his phone on the table warily, as if it had suddenly sprouted thorns from the screen. Of course, all things considered, that would not have been the strangest thing that a Phantom Thief's cell phone could do.
Technology was far from Yusuke's strong suit, likely due in part to Madarame having declared digitally created media to be 'an afront to true creativity'. Although, looking back, Yusuke strongly suspected that the man had simply been too miserly to purchase a computer or cell phones for his students. Yusuke could see that now, although he didn't wish to dwell on it.
If he hadn't taken the leap on a whim and purchased a phone against his teacher's wishes, would he even have been able to become a part of the Phantom Thieves? Certainly, if that had been the case he wouldn't have the number of Goro Akechi slowly creeping down the list of his most recent calls.
Lunging forward, as if striking at an unsuspecting Shadow, Yusuke snatched the phone off the table, swiping the screen into wakefulness. After a moment or two of frowning at the screen, thumb hovering over the 'call' icon, Yusuke let the phone fall to his lap with a deep sigh as his head fell backward onto the back of the couch.
Did he truly wish to hear that voice again? As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he knew the answer with every cell in his body, just the same as when he discovered the perfect subject to paint. Ever since moving out of the shack and leaving that sham of a life behind, Yusuke had made decision never to lie to himself again.
Yusuke sincerely wished to hear the voice of Goro Akechi growl in his ear once more. Although he knew that the pleasant pandering of their initial meetings would be long tossed to the wayside, Yusuke preferred his former teammate this way, truth be told. The venom of Akechi's true self served as a powerful antitoxin to the fabricated politeness from what felt like so long ago.
With a grimace, Yusuke gingerly lifted the device from where it landed on his thighs. Before he could further overthink himself, he pecked out a single line:
'I don't wish to leave things like this.'
Unlike Yusuke, who would often forget to so much as glance at his phone for hours while enthralled with his current masterpiece, Akechi tended to be glued to his screen, as if it were an extension of those black gloves that had trailed over Yusuke's body so many times before.
The default ring tone began to chime in unison with the buzzing in Yusuke's palm.
“Hello?” he answered plainly, as if answering a call from a gallery director wishing to discuss his latest piece.
“Kitagawa!” Yusuke could hear the plastic smile on the other end. “Why, I haven't heard from you in ages!”
'Cut the bullshit!', That's what Ryuji would have said. Still, despite his friend's influence, despite everything that Akechi had put them through, Yusuke preferred to remain more decent.
“Goro,” Yusuke took a deep breath before replying, “I would prefer if we didn't start back at square one tonight. I would like to think that we can speak frankly with one another at this stage of our... our relationship.”
Akechi let out a single laugh that crackled over the airwaves. “Alright then. What relationship would that be? Because I distinctly remember getting close to you for no other reason than to infiltrate Joker's merry little band of fools.”
Yusuke could hear the din of mixed voices chattering in the background, as if Akechi were speaking to him from a crowded place. Was he wearing a hoodie for anonymity, as Akira had done during his time in hiding? Standing at the station, back resting casually against the tile wall as he sipped his coffee inbetween lies, as if washing them from his mouth.
“There's no point in lying to me,” Yusuke replied, realizing how tightly he had been gripping the phone, yet failing to relax his fingers. “I knew from the start why you were there, we all did. But the other things that you told me...” he swallowed thickly, a flood of memories rushing to warm his cheeks. “The things that we did that night...”
There was a pause and Yusuke thought that perhaps Akechi was attempting to move to a more private spot. Surely, he was never at a loss for words.
“Think what you will.” The background noise continued to hum. Was he out people watching? Indulging in one of their favorite shared activities by himself, solely to spite Yusuke? “By the way, Kitagawa?”
When they had been together, he had called him by first name. “Yes?”
“Will you ever forget my number? ...No? Ah, because you still love me.”
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