unlike most of the loud-mouthed, irritating people sae itoshi finds himself constantly surrounded by, he’s long since learned that you are not the type to openly express what you’re thinking about unless explicitly asked.
so, for you, he finds himself asking into the quiet, sleepy darkness of your bedroom, “what are you thinking about?”
“that starting tomorrow, i’m going to forget all about you.” you hum, propping yourself up by pressing your palm against the muscular plane of his chest. one of the straps of your silky camisole slips off your shoulder; it shouldn’t be as tantalizing to him as it is, but he thinks everything about you, everything you do, is designed to specifically tempt him.
he focuses on the tiny strip of fabric, on the smooth expanse of your skin, before his eyes flit back up to your face; he meets your gaze, cocks an eyebrow. “oh?”
truth be told, sae’s not a witty person. everyone lets him get the final word in because he’s got this cold aura and seemingly disinterested expression that screams “i don’t give a fuck,” but he does care. to a certain extent. he doesn’t care about the arguments he has with people; he just cares about winning. when he calls you, and you pick up, even if it’s on the second to last ring before he gets sent straight to voicemail, he considers that a win. when you open the door for him before he can even knock, he considers that a win.
when you admit that you’re thinking about him, even if it’s to say it’s because you plan on erasing him from your memory, he considers that a win.
“wanna know why?” you ask him, and he nods. if you were anyone else, he wouldn’t even care.
“‘cause i can’t handle being the girl that keeps having her ex spend the night.” you sit up fully now, removing your hand from his body. he misses your warmth the moment your touch leaves him.
“easy fix. we can get back together, then.” the two of you are practically together anyway. he cooks you breakfast the morning after, and you still wear his boxers as pajamas. his body’s pretty sensitive to most sensations, especially early in the morning, but his feet have gotten used to hitting the cold hardwood floor of your bedroom when he wakes up before dawn to brush his teeth and get his day started.
“too late. i've already blocked your number from my phone.”
he almost laughs at that. instead, he takes your right wrist, his thumb gently pressed against your pulse point; he likes to apply just enough pressure so that he can feel every beat of your heart. “yeah? i can buy a new phone, get a new number.”
“you make breakups difficult for no reason.” you tell him, but not yanking back your wrist. it’s why he feels bold enough to bring your fingers to his mouth, lightly kissing the tips of your fingers.
“we broke up?” he peers up at you, your fingers still so close to his mouth that you can feel the way he breathes life into his words. annoying. he’s so annoying. the worst part is, you’re pretty sure he’s somehow convinced himself that you ending things was just you throwing a tantrum. he’s still treating you the same as he always does.
“i broke up with you.” not like he needs the reminder.
“i don’t remember agreeing to that.”
“you don’t have to agree. breakups don’t have to be mutual.”
“i have a game next week. we’re going to be playing in france. i was thinking a day before the match, we could go visit the louvre, like you talked about.” he’s still going on casually, making plans like there was never a doubt in his mind that you’re going to show up to his game. you received the ticket he sent and somehow couldn’t bring yourself to toss it in the trash, right where it belongs, so it’s currently hiding in your nightstand drawer.
“sae, i’m not going. i’m not your girlfriend.”
well, you’re certainly his. he made sure to have you scream out a chorus of yours, yours, yours! to have it drilled into your pretty little head.
“how do you know my name? i thought you forgot all about me.” he’s holding back a smile.
“i’m forgetting all about you starting tomorrow.” you point out, and one corner of his mouth quirks up, a smug smirk on his face as he nods subtly to the alarm clock on your nightstand.
“it is tomorrow.”
you blink, before staring at him curiously. “yeah.” you say slowly, having been bested by sae itoshi once again. “what do you think i should do now, then?”
give him all your tomorrows for the rest of your life.
he doesn’t say that, though. he just pulls you in for a long, deep kiss. when you say his name, breathlessly and full of longing, he takes the time to fix the strap of your camisole, knowing it’s futile since he'll be pulling it off your body soon, anyway.
Im focusing more on learning how to do digital art rn but I want to get back to pixel art eventually, I think my next big project will be a pixel art picrew or something one piece related
I doubt this will EVER see the light of day, but here is a small part of my Denise/RJ Firefly fanfiction I'm trying to work on!
“No.” Denise admitted, reluctantly. “I had a good life. Until I showed up at Captain Spauldings.”
RJ laughed at that, too. Finally, bored with petting her, he withdrew his hand from the back of her dress. “Suppose that coulda been a bad day for you.” He took the last swallow of his beer and reached for her again, taking her chin in his massive hand. “Wasn’t such a bad turn out for me. Always thought you was pretty.”
Her breath hitched in her throat. Did he want a thank you? His words felt like maggots burrowing under her skin, eating away at the last bit of humanity she had left. He brushed his thumb against her lips, filling her nose with the faint remnants of sour beer and tobacco. Denise watched him watch her, with half-lidded eyes and a sloppy smirk. He pushed against her clammed lips, demanding entrance into the soft warmth of her mouth. He would keep pushing until he broke teeth, and she’d rather keep all her teeth while she could; So, Denise opened her mouth for him.
“Tiny didn’t know what to do with you. Not like I do,” RJ went on, sliding his thumb gently against her tongue. “Otis is too rough, he likes to break pretty things. I don’t break things,” he paused, laughing. “Well, I don’t try to make a habit of it. Sometimes pretty things are so damn breakable.”
