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notiddygothgf · 1 month ago

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21. Freedom

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ It'll pass. ❞

★ c.w.: hayakawa family, aki being perfect, legal divorce jargon, emotional lowkey idk.

★ a/n: so how we feeling about that last chapter lol.... ANYWAYYYYYYY!!! to make up for that emotional rollercoaster, this one is comprised of the afteraffects of the divorce. it realistically should have been two chapters but i didn't want to bore yall so I crammed it all into one! i'm not gonna say too much, but enjoy the calm!! ugh i loved writing soft aki this chapter has such a soft spot in my heart. i hope you all enjoy it too!! pls leave all ur beautiful comments, they inspire me to update quicker!!!

★ w.c: .10k

shameless ; chapter index

LATER THAT NIGHT, in bed with your knight in shining armor, you sat awake with his laptop propped up on your legs. The harsh blue light from the screen practically burned your eyes. A few inches away, Aki was fast asleep, boyish features relaxed after a long and tedious day. A notepad lay open on the nightstand.

You were scanning through the search engine results for divorce attorneys in your area. A few names and faces popped up, but so far nothing had caught your eye – still, because you couldn't afford to be picky, you were noting them down, taking down numbers and names for future reference. Ideally, you would be able to call around tomorrow to see who could bring you through the divorce process under short notice.

Furrowing your brows, you sighed, dropping your head into your hands – the fight playing on repeat in the back of your mind.

"Is she hurt?"

"I'll fucking kill you."

"I'm taking you home."

You massaged your temples, feeling an awful lot like the future divorcee you were. You could see why so many people went off the deep end during the whole process. Hell, it had just started for you, and you were already at your wit's end.

And, of course, there was the doubt – the nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, you were making a mistake. You were no longer in any position to go back. Still, you had made mistake once by marrying Tanimoto. You were terrified of making the same one with Aki.

But he's not Tanimoto, you reminded yourself. In fact, the two couldn't have possibly been more different. Where Tanimoto was strong-headed and cocky, Aki was kind and patient. He waited for you to come around so many different times – put up with a great deal of your emotional turmoil – and still stuck around.

He was crazy about you. He had shown you that much from the very beginning. You had just been too blind to see that you were just as crazy about him.

"The apartment down the hall is up for lease, I've heard. It's not exactly the same as your house, but it could be a start," Aki tilted his head slightly, trying to offer a comforting smile, "We could make it work."

He's my peace, you thought, drumming your fingers on the keys of Aki's laptop absentmindedly before closing out the tab with the attorneys and opening a new one. Into the search bar, you typed in the name of Aki's apartment complex. Surprisingly enough, it popped up on the first page. How techy.

You scrolled through their page for a while, pursuing the site like you weren't currently nestled in bed with one of the complex's tenants. Then, clicking on the option for vacant housing, you looked at some of the options they had available.

1 bedroom, you clicked.

Then, casting a stray glance at your lover, you softened, watching him sleep for a moment – the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the flush in his cheeks, the way his lips were parted ever-so-slightly. His hair was touseled, laying wildly over the white pillowcase. Above all else, he looked like he was at peace.

In a moment, this could all disappear, you thought. Hesitantly, you traced a line from his cheek to his forehead, reveling in the way he twitched beneath your touch. He could disappear. It's not uncommon in our line of work.

And then, you realized that you didn't care. You couldn't care less about the fact that this – all of this – could be gone tomorrow. All it took was one look at him for you to come to an understanding; you would rather have a minute with him than live a lifetime without him – hell, without the little family the two of you had created between the two of you and the two gremlins. You loved it all enough to know that, however fleeting it might be, you wanted to ride until the last stop.

You imagined a life with Aki – the domesticity of it. You imagined waking up in your own bedroom, right next to his. A space you could call your own for the first time. A place you were free to decorate as you pleased. You imagined walking into the kitchen and – rather than finding that your husband had left without a goodbye again – find him standing there before the stove, cooking breakfast for you. Would he turn to you when he heard your footsteps? Would his permanent scowl soften into that lovestruck grin he always seemed to wear around you? Would he lean down and kiss you good-morning, voice raspy with sleep?

And then, you imagined the other two. You imagined Denji and Power running into the kitchen, fighting with you about portion sizing while you set the table. Denji would ask an invasive question, as he typically did, and Power would inevitably run around flaunting her glory in the way that only she could.

Would you look at all of that and finally be able to think 'This is home'?

You went back a page, clicking 4 Bedrooms instead. You know, just to humor yourself. That's all.

7:45 AM

TANIMOTO: Today's our check out day. I need your hotel key by 11.

TANIMOTO: and if you want your stuff, come get it.

The elevator jolted slightly as you pressed the button for the proper floor, the soft hum of machinery filling the small space. It felt suffocating inside of it – you exhaled, slow and steady, watching the numbers climb. It's just a quick stop,you reminded yourself. In and out. He can't hurt you.

Worst came to worst, Aki was waiting outside in the car, having had insisted upon driving you in case your husband tried anything funny. His words of encouragement played in the back of your mind like a mantra:

"You don't have to explain yourself to him. I'll be waiting outside. If you're not back in 20 minutes, I'll come up there and find you. If he tries to lay a finger on you, just text me. I'll be there quicker than flies on shit."

In. Out. Your chest rose and then fell again.

"I love you. You can do this. I love you."

His words had been firm, steady, grounding in the way they always seemed to be. Now, as you rode up to the floor where you knew your husband was staying for the first time in God knows how long, you held onto them. Carried them in your mind, in your chest like a protective talisman.

Aki's fingers had been tight around the steering wheel as he told you, "Get in, get out. Don't give him the chance to pull you back in."

The soft chime of the elevator reaching its destination pulled you back to the present. You straightened out slightly, exhaling again, smoothing your hands out over the sleeves of your sweater – the one you had borrowed from Aki's closet earlier that morning.

Can I really do this? You couldn't help but wonder. Still, your heart was steady – like it knew you had no other choice.

Just in, then out, you reminded yourself.

Yet, as the doors slid open, you hesitated before stepping out into the empty, quiet hallway. The number 400 glared at you. It wasn't the right room, but you were close. Closer than you had been since... well, since he had grabbed you by the collar that night at the party. Closer than you had been since you watched him get pummeled into the ground by the very same man who stole you away from him.

The numbers ticked up as you continued down the hall. 401, 403, 406, 409, 412.

Your heart was racing in your chest by the time you turned to your left and saw those numbers you had been dreadingseeing – 413.

The number 413 loomed in front of you, an impassable threshold between past and present. You exhaled, slow and measured, and raised a fist to knock. For a moment, you hesitated, staring at the peeling paint on the doorframe, the tarnished brass of the room number. Your fingers curled in on themselves. It would be so easy to turn around, to walk away. But you weren't that person anymore. You forced yourself to knock.

The door opened almost instantly. Tanimoto stood in the doorway, his face shadowed by the dim overhead light. A dark bruise swelled around his left eye, his lower lip cracked and healing. The sight of it made something cold settle in your stomach. He looked different—hollow, diminished.

"Hey," he said, his voice low, uncertain.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, keeping your expression unreadable. The weight of everything between you pressed down on your chest, but you pushed through it. "I came for my stuff."

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. His hand flexed at his side like he wanted to reach for you but thought better of it. "Right. Yeah." After a moment's hesitation, he stepped aside, giving you space to enter.

The room was surprisingly neat, stripped of the usual signs of his disorder. Your duffel bag sat near the door, already packed. A small act of consideration that did nothing to soothe the wariness in your bones.

"I packed everything for you," he said, voice careful, almost measured. "Figured that's what you wanted."

You nodded, stepping forward. Your fingers brushed over the bag's zipper, checking its weight. Everything felt accounted for. But you still had the lingering thought that something was missing—not a possession, but something deeper, something intangible.

Tanimoto lingered near the door, watching you with an unreadable expression. "I'm ready to go too," he added, as if that would change something.

You reached for the handle and turned toward him. "Thank you." It was clipped, distant. Still, you bowed your head slightly in acknowledgment, a final courtesy before leaving this part of your life behind.

Just as you moved to leave, his fingers wrapped around your wrist.

Your body locked up instantly. The air in your lungs turned sharp, unsteady. His grip wasn't bruising, wasn't forceful, but it didn't need to be. A part of you recoiled before your mind even caught up, instincts long trained to flinch at his touch.

"Wait, I'm not going to hurt you," he said quickly, his fingers releasing you just as fast. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, looking exhausted, defeated. "I just... do you wanna get coffee or something? I think we should talk."

Your heart pounded, but not from fear. From anger. From frustration. From everything you had buried deep just to make it this far.

"There's nothing to talk about." Your voice was firm, your body already half-turned toward the door.

"Please," he tried again. "I just—I wanna talk, that's all." His voice cracked, and for a moment, he looked like he was on the verge of saying something more. But you didn't care.

You sighed, shaking your head. "I'm leaving, Tanimoto. He's waiting for me outside."

His jaw tensed, but he didn't move. His hands clenched at his sides as he took a slow breath. "I just want you to explain why—where this is all coming from."

Your lips parted, but instead of answering, you heard Aki's voice in your head. "You don't have to explain yourself to him."

Your expression hardened. "I don't have to explain myself to you." The words were clipped, sharp, a finality in them that left no room for argument. "You lost that right the moment you started hitting me."

His face paled. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His shoulders sagged as the weight of your words sunk in, as if he were only now realizing the full impact of his actions.

You turned toward the door, but he shifted, stepping into your path.

Your fingers twitched toward your phone. Aki was just downstairs. But no. You wouldn't call for help. Not this time.

Instead, you straightened. "I'm seeing a lawyer."

His expression cracked. His lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something, but the words never made it past his throat.

"Please, don't leave."

Your fingers tightened around your bag's handle. "You're too late."

Tanimoto's shoulders slumped. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. "I don't want a divorce."

You met his gaze, unflinching. "It doesn't matter what you want anymore, Tanimoto."

He swallowed hard, his face a storm of emotions. He was losing you, and he knew it. The realization was written all over his face.

"I'll bring you the papers soon," you continued. "Until then, don't contact me. If you refuse to meet up and agree to terms, it will have to be resolved in court." Your voice was steady, unwavering. "And if we go to court, I will bring up everything you've done. Everything you don't want getting out."

The silence between you was suffocating. He knew exactly what you meant. The bruises, the excuses, the nights spent walking on eggshells. It would all be laid bare.

"If you want this to be done peacefully," you said finally, "then I suggest that you cooperate."

He didn't say anything.

You nodded once. "Excuse me."

This time, when you reached for the door, he didn't stop you.

You stepped into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind you. The tension in your shoulders slowly began to unravel, bit by bit, with every step you took toward the elevator.

And just like that, it was done.

The office smelled of old paper and polished wood, the scent of ink lingering in the air like a tangible reminder of the bureaucracy that would soon unfold. You sat stiffly in the leather chair across from an attorney – Kaya Fujimoto – hands folded tightly in your lap, fingers laced together as if to hold yourself steady. The room was neat, precise, the kind of place where every detail had been carefully curated to exude control. If only you felt that way.

The attorney, a woman in her late fifties with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense air, adjusted her glasses and gave a polite but professional nod. "I appreciate you coming in today. I understand you're here to begin the process of filing for divorce."

You swallowed, nodded. "Yes."

The attorney folded her hands on the desk. "All right. To start, I need to get a full picture of your financial and legal situation. The first thing I want to ask is, do you and your husband own any shared assets?"

"Yes," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to speak with more clarity. "We own a house together."

The attorney didn't look surprised, simply nodding as she made a note on the yellow legal pad in front of her. "Is the house fully paid off, or is there a mortgage?"

"There's still a mortgage. We bought it together a few years ago. Both of our names are on it."

The attorney clicked her pen, jotting something down. "That will complicate things slightly, but it's manageable. Now, do you both contribute to the mortgage payments equally? Or is one of you primarily responsible?"

You hesitated. "We've both paid into it. We have a joint account, and the mortgage is withdrawn from there every month."

The attorney nodded again. "That brings me to my next question—joint finances. Do you and your husband share any bank accounts beyond the one you mentioned? Savings accounts, investments, anything else of significance?"

"We share all of our money," you admitted, the words heavy on your tongue. "We never separated finances. Everything goes into one place."

For the first time, the attorney's gaze lifted fully from the notepad, studying you carefully. "And who primarily controls those funds?"

The question made you shift in your seat. "It's... technically both of us, but he usually handles the big decisions. I don't go through every transaction."

"Has he ever restricted your access to money? Prevented you from withdrawing funds, or monitored your spending?"

You knew what the attorney was asking, and for a fleeting moment, you considered being honest. But you had already decided—you wouldn't bring that into this. You wouldn't give him that power over your case, wouldn't let this become a battle of accusations and counterclaims.

"No," you said, carefully neutral. "We've just always used the same account."

The attorney held your gaze for a moment longer, as if weighing your answer. Then, nodding, she returned to her notes. "Okay. Since there is no financial separation, everything in that account is considered marital property. This includes any savings, investments, or debts in both of your names. Divorce proceedings will determine how those assets are divided."

The weight in your chest grew heavier. You had spent so long trying to separate yourself from him, to untangle yourself from the life you had built together, and yet here you were, realizing how deeply enmeshed you still were.

"I need to ask," the attorney continued, her voice steady, "is there a prenuptial agreement in place?"

You shook your head. "No."

This time, the attorney exhaled softly, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "That means that, legally, all assets accumulated during your marriage are subject to division. Without a prenuptial agreement, there's no predetermined structure for how things will be split. We'll need to negotiate that through the divorce."

Your stomach twisted. You had known this, in theory, but hearing it stated so plainly made it real. You had spent years building a life with him, and now you would have to fight for your share of it.

"I assume there's no formal postnuptial agreement either?" the attorney asked.

"No. Nothing like that."

The attorney tapped the pen against the legal pad. "All right. The house will likely be the biggest point of contention. Typically, there are a few options. You can sell the home and split the proceeds, one party can buy out the other's share, or—depending on the situation—one spouse may retain ownership, with financial compensation provided to the other. Do you have a preference?"

You shivered, thinking about all of the memories that lived in that damned house – like ghosts.

You hesitated. "I don't want the house."

The attorney paused, flipping through a few pages before looking back at you. "Are you prepared for the possibility that he may not cooperate? If he refuses to sell the house or give you your share, we may have to take the matter to court."

Your fingers tightened on your lap. "I don't want to go to court," you said, your voice low but firm, as if speaking the words aloud would solidify your resolve. "I just want to be done with him, with all of this." You gestured vaguely, as if the walls of the office were somehow closing in on you. "If that means I walk away without getting the full value of the house, I'll take it. Whatever gets me out of this faster."

The attorney's sharp eyes studied you for a moment, then she nodded, understanding the weight behind your words. "I understand. Divorce is often more about the emotional closure than the financial settlement. But you should be aware that his refusal to comply can still delay things. It won't be over quickly, even if you take the loss."

"I don't care," you replied quietly, almost to yourself. "I just need it over."

The attorney held your gaze for a moment longer, then gave a small, acknowledging nod. "I'll make a note of that. It's important to know what you're willing to accept, and it sounds like you're ready to move on. But just be clear—if he's uncooperative, I will do everything in my power to ensure you're not taken advantage of."

Your throat tightened, but you nodded in return. "Thank you."

"What if he refuses to sign the... uh... the papers?"

"Then we take it to court. Judges don't look kindly on one party trying to hold the other hostage in a divorce."

You nodded, absorbing the information. The attorney's calm, methodical approach made it easier to stomach, but it didn't change the reality of what you were about to step into.

"As for your finances," the attorney continued, "I strongly recommend you open a personal bank account immediately and begin transferring your share of the funds. Since everything is joint, your husband has equal access. If he suspects a divorce is imminent, he could drain the account before proceedings begin."

Your breath caught slightly. You hadn't thought of that, but you should have. "How much should I take?"

"Half," the attorney said without hesitation. "That's what you're entitled to. If he challenges it, we can address it in negotiations. But do not leave yourself financially vulnerable."

You nodded, making a mental note to do it as soon as you got home. The thought of him realizing you had moved the money made your stomach churn, but the alternative—being left with nothing—was far worse.

"That leads me to my next point," the attorney said. "Divorces can be civil, or they can be contentious. Based on what you've told me, I want you to be prepared for the possibility that he will contest the terms. It may be beneficial to gather any financial records, emails, or messages that support your contributions to the marriage. Documentation can be invaluable if disputes arise."

You let out a slow breath. "I understand."

The attorney closed her legal pad and offered a small, reassuring smile. "This process can be overwhelming, but you're not alone. My job is to ensure you leave this marriage with what you're legally entitled to."

For the first time since stepping into the office, you felt the smallest sliver of relief.

You had spent so long feeling trapped. Now, for the first time, you were beginning to see the way out.

"Thank you," You smiled. "I really do appreciate it."

That evening, after you came home from the attorney's office, you entered Aki's apartment. He had texted you earlier to let you know that he'd left the door unlocked for you. You assumed that he had said that because he was asleep or in the shower, or something of the sort, so you were a little surprised to see the outline of his lean form perched over the balcony.

Still, kicking your shoes off, you entered the space that had become your home and followed him out there.

He was still wearing his Public Safety uniform – clearly just recently having clocked out – leaning over the ledge with a cigarette perched between his fingers. His hair was down, and it looked almost blue beneath the moonlight. As blue as his tired eyes were when he turned slowly to meet your gaze.

"Hey, troublemaker," He smiled – softly, though there was a hint of fatigue that lingered behind it, like the work day had drained him.

"Hey, Baby," You replied, walking up a little closer and then slipping your hands around his waist. It all felt so natural, so easy. It felt like coming home after being at war. When you buried your nose into his back, you smelled that beautiful aroma that was so distinctly him – his detergent, the warm notes of his cologne, hints of smoke from the stick between his fingertips.

"Baby," He hummed. "I don't think you've ever called me that outside of the bedroom."

You grinned, face flushing, nuzzling your cheek into his back. Truthfully, the nickname had slipped out. It felt so natural, you hadn't even realized you'd said it.

Then, he sighed, shoulders slumping. His hand rested over yours, drawing shapes over your clasped fingertips.

"Rough day at work?" You asked.

He chuckled, "You have no idea."

"I don't, you're right," You replied, "I can't imagine being a Captain, truthfully. Having to think for everyone – I'd much rather take orders."

"I'm not even gonna comment on that last part 'cause my mind's in the gutter," Aki huffed out a quiet little laugh. When you shoved him forward, he pulled a hit from his cigarette, continuing, "How was the meeting?"

He turned around to face you, then, wrapping you in the tightest bear hug he could manage. For a second, you felt as if you had died and gone to heaven. You wouldn't mind suffocating in his arms.

"Provincial," You smiled. "She told me I'm entitled to half of the income and... God, a whole lot of other legal jargon. I'm so over it."

"It'll be worth it when you're free," Aki hummed in response, cigarette perched between his lips. Faintly, a few feet away, a CD player was playing some tune you faintly recognized. It sounded like something from the 80's. Mindlessly, perhaps, you began to swing back and forth.

"That's what I'm trying to remind myself," You rested your head on his chest, letting him continue to swing you back and forth to the beat. It was somewhere between swaying and dancing – content to bask in each other's presence. Your hand snaked its way up his arm, "Let me get a hit of that?"

You plucked the smoldering cigarette out from between his fingers and held it up to your own lips. As Aki continued to move you side to side to the rhythm of the song, you breathed in, feeling the smoke enter your lungs, the nicotine slip into your veins – and then breathed out.

When you were finished, you stubbed the cigarette out and flicked it over the edge of the balcony. You had gotten your fix, and you were now content to lose to yourself in the rhythm, in the little bubble the two of you had created. For a minute, you weren't just a twenty-something on the edge of a divorce, a Public Safety worker with a ticking clock over her head – for a minute, it was just you and your lover, swaying together beneath Tokyo's evening skyline with your head on his chest. Below your cheek, his heart beat steadily, a reminder that this was all real.

"I love you," you sighed.

Aki tilted your chin up so that you were eye-to-eye with him, "I love you more."

Then he was leaning down – quite a bit, as he was a great deal taller than you were – and his lips were on yours, gentle and languid, as if he had all of the time in the world to kiss you. You sighed into it, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer – all the while swaying to the song.

"I have nothing left except you now, remember that," You breathed out. It was true. Once the divorce was through, you'd have no one else but Aki to pick up the pieces (the way he always did).

"How could I forget?" He smiled, pressing a kiss to your crown, gazing down at you with that starstruck look – like you were the only thing he had ever wanted, "You're my happiness, my everything."

And then, on the balcony of your not-quite-boyfriend's apartment, swinging to the beat of some song you couldn't name if someone paid you, swaddled in his arms, you realized that things really would turn out okay. As long as you had him by your side, you could handle anything.

YOU: I have the papers, and I would like to meet up in person as soon as possible so you can sign off on it.

YOU: please be mindful that this is the peaceful way to do things. I'll be out of your hair in no time.

Typing...

TANIMOTO: Okay. When should we meet?

YOU: Tomorrow?

TANIMOTO: Yeah, that works.

YOU: Great. I'll go to Kyoto. We can discuss terms over coffee.

Typing...

TANIMOTO: I miss you, yk that?

Seen 11:42 PM

Two weeks had passed since your first consultation with the attorney. Two weeks of what felt like an endless back-and-forth – tied between days with Aki, at home and at work. Two weeks of living with the Hayakawa "family" (and resolving the numerous arguments that broke out between the three. Denji always had something to do with it). Two weeks of bliss combined with the greatest headache ever – the process of a legal separation from your soon-to-be ex husband.

Two weeks had passed, and now that you were here, you were having doubts. Unreasonable doubts, sure. You knew you wanted this, but they were doubts nonetheless

Two weeks, and now you were seated in the backseat of a busy cafe with the divorce papers neatly stacked and stapled together in your lap. You had spent countless days reading over all of the terms and conditions your attorney had drafted up. Four pages. Four perfect, white pages, each detailing some aspect of the divorce. It felt like a brick in your lap, heavy and uncertain.

And, as you ran your eyes over the front page one last time, just to make sure that you really wanted to go through with everything, the bell at the top of the cafe's door rang, and Tanimoto walked in.

He was dressed like it was just another normal day. White dress shirt, Public Safety suit jacket buttoned up – he looked as if he had just gotten off of work. If your memory served you correct, he usually worked until four in the afternoon on Wednesdays. That would mean that he came straight from Public Safety by train.

The two of you had agreed to meet halfway in the middle at a cafe he had recommended in Narai-juku. The train ride wasn't unreasonable, but it did nothing for your nerves to know that you were here alone. Aki was in town with Denji and Power, undoubtedly being suckered into the arcade Denji had spotted in the cab on the way over just up the block. He was a call away, as always, upon his insistence, but he wasn't sitting across from you.

No, instead, it was Tanimoto that sat down, solemn expression worn on his tired face, hair looking utterly disheveled. His eyes were baggy, like he hadn't slept. The one on the left still wore the remnants of a black eye, a painful reminder of the fight he had gotten into.

For a moment, neither of you exchanged greetings. What more was there to say?

Wordlessly, you set the document on the table. It felt a lot heavier than it actually was. Tanimoto seemed to mirror your hesitance on a much greater level, eyes already hazy. He stared down at the packet between the two of you like he couldn't believe it, like the years the two of you had spent together were flashing through his mind.

"This doesn't feel real," He finally acknowledged the elephant in the room.

Tanimoto's fingers hovered over the stack of papers before he finally reached for them. He exhaled sharply, as if bracing himself, then flipped open the first page. His movements were sluggish, like he was deliberately slowing time, drawing this out longer than it needed to be.

You sat perfectly still, watching as his eyes moved across the first few lines, the muscles in his jaw tightening with every word he absorbed. His thumb ran absentmindedly along the edge of the paper, the same way he used to trace lazy circles against your wrist when he held your hand. You forced yourself to look away.

That was another lifetime ago.

His voice, quiet and strained, finally cut through the silence. "So, other than half of the money, you're not asking for anything," he murmured, not quite a question, but more of a realization.

You nodded, shifting in your seat. "I don't need anything from you. I just want a clean break."

He lifted his head. "And the, uh... the house?"

The house. The house you had once called a home. Four white walls, sleek modern interior, a place you had never quite felt was your own.

You swallowed. "It's yours."

His lips parted slightly, as if taken aback. His gaze searched yours, as if waiting for you to change your mind.

"I'm looking to downsize," you continued, voice steady. "I have some apartments I'm already looking at in Tokyo."

"With Captain Hayakawa, right? You're..." He swallowed like it hurt him to do so, "You're moving in together, aren't you?"

You weren't planning on it. Hell, you hadn't even started showing some of the listings to Aki yet to get his opinion. Everything was so... up in the air.

Plus, you would never ask him that. Living with someone was a commitment, something not far from marriage. Aki was still young. You doubted he would want to give up the space he'd been inhabiting for so long just to share one with you.

Still... you had endured Tanimoto's abuse for years. You wanted to milk it a little longer.

"That's none of your business, honestly," You replied.

He let out a sharp breath through his nose, shaking his head. "Guess you've got it all figured out."

You said nothing. There was nothing left to say.

The café buzzed around you—muffled conversations, the hiss of steaming milk, the rhythmic clinking of cups against saucers. Outside, the sky had deepened into a dusky shade of blue, streaked with the last traces of sunlight. It was the kind of evening you once would have spent together, sharing a quiet meal or walking home side by side.

Now, you sat on opposite ends of a table, separated by a mere few inches and a lifetime of things left unsaid.

Tanimoto turned another page, skimming over the terms like he wasn't really reading them. His hand rested on the corner of the stack, fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against the paper.

Then, after a long pause, he exhaled and leaned back. "Should I take this home?" he asked, rubbing at his temple. "Go over it a little more before signing?"

You shook your head without hesitation. "No. I want you to sign them here."

His lips pressed into a thin line.

"I took the evening off," you added, folding your hands in your lap. "I have time to wait."

Tanimoto let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head again, but he didn't argue. Instead, he flipped through the final few pages, slower this time. His expression hardened, but beneath the forced indifference, you could see it—the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed, the tight set of his shoulders.

You knew that look. It was the same one he wore when he was trying not to let something hurt.

And then, without looking up, he said, "I don't have a pen."

You had expected this. You figured he would try and pull a stunt at the last minute.

Reaching into your bag, you pulled out a sleek black pen and placed it on the table between you. "That's okay," you said, voice soft. "I brought one."

A breath of laughter left him, quiet and bitter. "Of course you did." He picked up the pen, turning it between his fingers, as if testing its weight. Then, finally, he looked at you. His eyes were glassy, reflecting the warm light overhead, and for a moment, he didn't speak.

"Look," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know about this..."

Your chest tightened. You swallowed against the lump in your throat.

"Don't," you said, cutting him off. "Don't do this. Please. Just sign the papers."

His grip on the pen tightened, his knuckles paling. "I don't want to lose you."

It was barely a whisper, but it still hit like a punch to the ribs.

For a second, you almost faltered. You almost let the years you had spent together, the familiarity of him, the ache in his voice, shake your resolve.

But then you heard Aki's voice in your head, steady and sure.

"Stay strong."

You blinked, steadying your breath. "You'll lose a lot more than just me if you don't sign off on the terms," you said, and even though it hurt, even though your throat burned from holding back the emotion threatening to break through, you didn't waver. "This is the best way to do it. Please, just... just sign it."

A heavy silence settled between you, thick and suffocating. You could feel him watching you, searching for something—hesitation, regret, anything that would let him believe there was still a chance.

But you had made your choice.

Tanimoto exhaled, long and unsteady. His shoulders dropped, and his head tilted slightly downward, his eyes falling to the paper in front of him.

"If this will make you happy," he muttered, pressing the tip of the pen to the page, "then I'll be glad I did at least one thing right."

You knew what he was doing. He wanted to make you doubt. To make you regret.

And maybe, in some small way, it was working.

But you forced yourself to remember why you were doing this.

Tanimoto picked up the pen with a trembling hand, steadying it over the line at the end of the packet. Then, hesitating slightly, he scribbled his signature down, ink pressing deep into the paper.

And you exhaled. Finally, For the first time in thirty seconds, you breathed out.

It's over. It's finally over.

You stood up only a moment later, grabbing your coffee and the papers before he could change his mind. "I'll come by the house and pick up my stuff while you're at work sometime this week," You hummed, sticking the papers into the folder in your purse. When you were all zipped up and ready to go, you looked him one last time – got a real good look at him because you knew you might never see him again after all was said and done.

And he was crying. His eyes were wide and watery, tears streaming gently down his cheeks – it was something you hadn't seen him do before... ever. Lips trembling, he whispered, "You don't have to do this. It's not too late to call it off."

That's the thing about abusers. They're very convincing. You felt the waterworks building up in your own eyes, biting your lip to keep them at bay. A stray tear slipped out, down your cheek – one you quickly wiped away. He wasn't worth any more of those.

"This is goodbye, Tanimoto," You said the words you had been aching to say for so long. As you breathed them out into the air, you felt lighter, somehow, like a weight had been lifted. Then, turning on your heel, you made your way towards the door.

"Will I ever see you again?" He called after you, making you pause mid-step.

A shopgoer passed you by. Then another. Your coffee felt heavy in your palm, hot enough to burn the tender skin there.

Slowly, then, you looked back at him – at the pathetic man who had once been your husband, and felt the weight of the papers in your bag.

"Stay strong," Aki's voice echoed in your head one final time.

Then, you straightened out, answering, "With all due respect, I hope not."

You didn't wait for his response. You didn't even spare him one last glance.

Instead, you turned on your heel and walked out of the café, pushing the door open with more force than necessary. The bell above jingled in protest.

The evening air hit you like a slap to the face—cool, crisp, and sharp enough to sting against the heat of your skin. Your feet moved on their own, faster than they needed to, carrying you up the block as though you could outrun the weight of what had just happened. The coffee in your hand sloshed dangerously against the rim, but you hardly noticed.

You didn't stop. Not when the streetlights flickered on overhead. Not when a group of people passed by, chatting about something insignificant. Not even when you realized you had started trembling.

It wasn't until you turned a corner, out of sight from the café, that it hit you all at once.

The tears came before you could stop them—silent, hot, and endless. Your breath hitched, and then you were sobbing, shoulders heaving, body curling inward as if you could fold yourself small enough to disappear.

You doubled over, your free hand gripping your stomach like you had been physically struck. It hurt. God, it hurt.

Then, you dropped into a squat, setting your coffee down and curling into a ball.

People were staring. You could feel their eyes on you, confused and mildly concerned. Some of them hesitated mid-step, as if debating whether to approach. Others simply walked around you, pretending not to see.

You didn't care.

You didn't even know why you were crying. He was horrible to you. He had torn you down piece by piece, made you question yourself, made you feel like you were nothing. You should be relieved. You should be free.

But all you could feel was the sharp, crushing weight of the years you had wasted on him. Of the love you had given so freely, only for it to be twisted into something unrecognizable.

A hand touched your back.

You flinched at the contact, but before you could jerk away, you recognized the warmth of it. The familiarity.

Aki.

He didn't say anything at first. Just stood beside you, solid and unwavering, as if anchoring you in place. His touch was firm but careful, rubbing slow, grounding circles into your back.

When you finally dared to lift your head, you saw the bouquet of white flowers in his other hand.

Your breath hitched.

Aki was watching you, his expression unreadable beneath the dim streetlight, but his eyes—his eyes told you everything. He knew. He knew what this meant for you. He had known before you had even walked into that café.

Behind him, Denji and Power stood a few feet away, both staring at you like you had just grown a second head.

Denji's mouth was half-open, like he was about to say something, but for once, he didn't. Power nudged him, but even she stayed uncharacteristically silent.

"You two go ahead and buy some icecream over there. I'll be right behind you," Aki rustled around in his pocket and slapped a bill into Denji's hand, "Give us a minute."

The two of them pissed off rather quickly then, practically skipping off with the money – their hunched over kinda-roommate long forgotten. Then it was just you on the floor and Aki, towering over you.

"You okay?" He asked, breaking the silence. "I got these flowers for you. He didn't hurt you, did he?"

There was an unspoken threat behind his words, an unspoken "Do I need to go over there and talk to him?". On any other day, you would have cracked a smile at it.

Instead, you shook your head, "I don't... know why I'm crying."

He sighed, then knelt down to your level. Long fingers reached out to cradle your face, to tuck your hair behind your ear and out of your face. "It's a lot to process, Honey. Being strong doesn't always feel good."

You sniffled back, "I guess you're right."

"Stand up," He smiled at you – not with teeth, but a lippy smile, like he was head over heels for you, even when you were... like that. "We can talk about it when you're ready, okay?"

"I'm ready now, I just..." You stood up, shivering at the gust of wind that blew your way. You tugged at the sleeves of Aki's sweater around your wrists. "It's just hard. I mean, we were married for quite some time, and I just... I have so much to say. So much to feel."

Aki wrapped you in his embrace – his warmth, and you melted against his much taller body. And, for a moment, nothing more had to be said. He understood everything.

"It'll pass," Was all he said in response.

"I feel like I just let an entire marriage go," You asked, "Will it really get better?"

"It'll get easier every day," He replied, bringing a hand up to massage the back of your scalp. "Plus, I'll be with you every step of the way."

You leaned into his touch, his embrace, and let the tears begin to flow again, carelessly soaking his sweater. He held you through it, whispering words of endearment and cooing in your ear.

"I want you to call your lawyer up and tell her you're gonna drop the papers off tomorrow," He added.

Your heart squeezed at the sound of it – at the sound of his voice, at the idea that you were that much closer to being done with your husband, you weren't entirely sure which one.

"He told me it's not too late to back down, Aki," You sighed. "I'm scared."

"We can take it one step at a time," He replied easily. "Wanna talk about it over ice cream?"

You looked at him – at your lover, then up at the pearly blue sky. It seemed like it was a little brighter that afternoon, a little more colorful. Faintly, hues of pink were beginning to creep onto the skyline. You took a moment to take it all in.

Then, you smiled, "Yeah... I would like that."

Aki released you from his hold, only to take your hand up in his own and place a chaste kiss to the back of it.

You had heard people tell you that freedom came with a great deal of difficulty, that it often took a while to start feeling good. You agreed. Now that you had the signed papers in your bag, you didn't know how to feel – what to make of everything.

Still, you felt a little better knowing that you were walking towards freedom hand-in-hand with the man you loved.

You were well on your way to separation with your not-quite-ex husband. The divorce papers were signed, dated, and dropped off at the attorney's office earlier in the morning. The only thing left?

Packing. So much of it. For a moment, you wondered if you would even be able to pack away your twenties. Would they be able to fit in the cardboard boxes you had picked up? Would you be able to carry them, or would the crushing weight of the divorce be too much to handle?

On the ride over, you had plenty of time to think about it. You and Aki had rented a moving truck from one of those moving chains, and in the back were a few piles of cardboard boxes. Oh, and the other two. Denj and Power were having the time of their lives back there, sitting criss-crossed applesauce on the floor while Aki drove. In his words, they were devils, and if they got injured on the way over, he would just have to give them some blood whenever they got home and they would be as good as new.

Your hands were neatly folded in your lap. Five hours into the five-and-a-half hour commute, and it was safe to say that you were going insane. The papers were sent in – it was final, no going back. Could you finally call yourself a free woman?

After all of those years?

One look at Aki and his glorious side profile – sharp angles and boyish eyes illuminated by the sunlight filtering in through the window behind the two of you – and you knew that going back was never an option. Not after you met him, anyway.

You glanced at the kids in the back. Currently, they were playing one of the board games they had brought along for the ride. Checkers, it looked like. Denji moved a black piece right as the truck hit a bump in the road, and their progress went flying.

Denji slammed his hands down on the ground, "Dammit, ponytail, you SUCK at driving!"

"Get a license, then we'll talk," He grumbled back. "Fuckin' freeloader."

You laughed, cheeks pulled taut at the corners. "Be nice, Aki."

"He's been getting on my nerves the entire car ride," Aki turned to you briefly, blue eyes narrowed into slits. He gestured towards the road. On the radio, one of his CDs was playing a quiet tune. "Are we there yet, this and I have to piss, that."

"I'm pretty sure this is the longest he's ever been in a car," You tried to add.

"If he's lucky, I won't pack him into a box and fucking leave him in here," He hissed at you.

"Eat a bag of dicks," Denji piped up from the back.

There was a tick in Aki's jaw, then, eyes widening as he shouted into the rearview mirror; "Go fuck yourself."

"Kids, please," You cut in. "There's only thirty minutes left. Can we please be nice?" You gestured to the road exasperatedly, "Left at the light, by the way."

The road stretched long and open before you, the low hum of Aki's music filling the car. The quiet tune had blended into the background hours ago, like the rhythm of the tires against the pavement, like the steady presence of the man beside you. The golden glow of the setting sun slanted through the windshield, bathing the dashboard in soft, flickering light. Outside, the landscape rolled by in a blur of greens and browns, endless fields giving way to clusters of trees, and the occasional gas station sign flickering against the dimming sky.

"Left at the light," you reminded him, voice soft, watching as the green overhead turned yellow.

Aki nodded, fingers flexing on the wheel before smoothly guiding the car into the turn lane. His profile was sharp in the fading light, the angles of his face accentuated by the dusky hues. The sunset caught on the edge of his jawline, turning his skin molten, almost delicate. You wondered, fleetingly, if he knew how easily you could get lost in looking at him. If he could feel the weight of your gaze.

Instead of giving in to the impulse, you settled for words. "It's nice out."

"Yeah," he murmured, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror before returning to the road. "Warm for this time of year."

The soft breeze from the slightly cracked window tousled a few strands of his hair. You resisted the urge to reach out, to tuck them behind his ear. You weren't sure when that particular habit had formed—this desire to smooth the edges of his exhaustion, to make things a little easier for him. Maybe it had been there all along, just waiting for the right moment to surface.

Another lull stretched between you, comfortable but weighted. Then—

"Rent's getting ridiculous lately."

You huffed a small laugh, shifting in your seat. "Tell me about it. Feels like the prices jump every time I check."

Aki drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, an almost absentminded motion. His brows furrowed slightly, as if working through a thought. Then—

"How would you feel about living together?"

The words settled between you, unexpected yet not entirely surprising. Your breath caught for just a fraction of a second. It wasn't as if the idea had never crossed your mind—you'd thought about it in passing, imagined what it might be like to share a space, to wake up and find him already in the kitchen, hair tousled from sleep, brewing his first cup of coffee. But hearing him say it aloud, hearing the intent behind it, made your pulse skip in a way that left you unsteady.

You blinked, fingers tightening around the fabric of your pants. "Like... the—" Your throat bobbed. "The four of us?"

"Yeah." His gaze flickered toward you, brief but searching. "The four of us. Get a bigger place."

Your heart did something odd in your chest—something light and quick and startling. You wanted to say yes, immediately, to latch onto the idea before it could slip through your fingers. Aki wasn't the type to bring things up unless he'd thought them through. If he was asking, that meant he'd considered it. That meant he wanted it.

But—

"Aki, I don't know..." Your voice was hesitant, careful. You could hear the uncertainty in it, the part of you that still held back. "I'll think about it. It's just—moving in with someone so quickly, you know?"

He nodded once, slow and understanding, his grip on the wheel remaining steady. "That's valid." A pause. Then, quieter, "Take as much time as you need. If you say no, I'll totally understand. Just let me know. My lease is up soon, at the end of the year. I'll renew it if you want."

There was something about the way he said it—if you want—that made your chest ache. Like the decision was entirely yours, like he wasn't pushing, just offering. Giving you an out, if you needed it. But the truth was, you didn't want an out.

The answer wasn't no, You just weren't sure if you were ready to say yes.

You swallowed, nodding slowly. "Yeah, okay. I'll—I'll think about it."

Aki hummed in response, the sound low and thoughtful. He didn't press further, didn't push for a quick decision. He just let the conversation settle into the space between you, quiet but not stifling. It was one of the things you liked about him—the way he let things breathe, the way he never made you feel rushed.

The rest of the drive passed in a silence that felt charged but not uncomfortable. There was something brimming beneath it, something unspoken yet understood. A shift, subtle but unmistakable.

In the back, Denji and Power had finally tired themselves out. The board game lay abandoned between them, the checkers pieces rolling lazily across the floor of the car, forgotten. Power had slumped against the window, mouth slightly open in sleep, while Denji leaned back with his arms crossed, head tilted at an awkward angle. They looked peaceful, in their own chaotic way.

You exhaled slowly, watching as the last traces of sunlight dipped below the horizon. The sky darkened, deep blues bleeding into blacks, the first stars blinking to life above.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were heading somewhere you wanted to be.

The rest of the ride went surprisingly quietly. The weight of Aki's words still lingered in the air, settling somewhere deep in your chest, heavy and uncertain. You watched the scenery blur past the window, streetlights flickering on one by one as dusk fully descended. The once-vivid hues of sunset had bled into an inky darkness, and with it came a creeping anxiety that made your fingers twitch in your lap.

Your keys felt foreign in your hands, the cool metal pressing into your palm as you turned them over absentmindedly. You hadn't used them in what felt like years. Time had stretched and twisted, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly when you had last walked through the doors of this house. The thought made your throat tighten, a lump forming that you stubbornly swallowed down.

Aki parked the car in the driveway, the familiar crunch of gravel beneath the tires sending a shiver down your spine. For a long moment, neither of you moved. The house loomed ahead, quiet and still, its windows dark. It looked smaller than you remembered. Or maybe you had just grown.

"You okay?" Aki's voice was gentle, careful.

You let out a shaky breath, forcing a nod. "Yeah. Just... a lot."

He didn't press further. He never did. Instead, he reached over and squeezed your knee, a quiet reassurance before pulling the key from the ignition. You took that as your cue, slowly stepping out of the car. The air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine, the same way it always had.

Your hands trembled as you fit the key into the lock. It turned smoothly, with an ease that made your chest ache. Like the house had been waiting for you to come back. The door creaked open, revealing the dim interior, the familiar scent of aged wood and dust greeting you like an old friend.

Stepping inside felt like stepping into a memory. The floorboards groaned under your weight, the walls holding echoes of years past. You walked further in, fingers brushing against the edge of the doorway, as if grounding yourself in reality. Aki followed behind, his presence solid and steady, the only thing keeping you from feeling like you might dissolve into the past.

Your breath hitched. You had told yourself you wouldn't cry. That you were stronger than this. But the moment your eyes landed on the living room—the worn couch, the coffee table still marked with the rings of old mugs, the bookshelves slightly askew—it all came rushing back. Every laugh, every fight, every late-night conversation that had once filled these walls.

Your husband topped off your glass of champagne with a grin, crooning, "Here's to our first night in our new home."

"Cheers," You replied. Your glasses clinked together in the middle.

"Our future begins here," He laughed.

The first tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. Then another. You covered your mouth with your hand, squeezing your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to compose yourself.

"Hey." Aki's voice was soft, his hand warm as it found the small of your back. "It's okay."

You shook your head, a choked laugh escaping. "I feel so stupid."

"You're not stupid," he said firmly. "You lived here. Of course it's gonna hit hard."

You turned to him, your vision blurred with tears. He was watching you with quiet understanding, his blue eyes holding none of the impatience or awkwardness you had feared. Just patience. Just Aki.

He reached up, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. "Be strong."

The words shouldn't have meant so much, but they did. Maybe because they came from him.

You nodded, sniffling. "Okay."

Aki let his hand drop but didn't step away, waiting until you had taken a steadying breath before speaking again. "Where should we start?"

Your gaze drifted up the staircase, heart thudding painfully in your chest. "The bedroom."

He nodded. "Alright."

The creak of each step beneath your feet was like a ghost of the past, whispering stories you weren't ready to hear. The hallway was lined with old photos, their frames slightly crooked. You hesitated at one—an old picture of yourself, caught mid-laugh, a younger version of you that felt like a stranger now.

Aki waited patiently, hands in his pockets, giving you the space to process. When you were ready, you pushed open the bedroom door.

The air inside was thick with nostalgia. The bed was still unmade from the last night you had spent here, as if frozen in time. Your old desk sat by the window, covered in dust, a few forgotten papers scattered across the surface. Everything was still. Untouched.

Aki moved first, stepping toward the closet. "I'll start in here."

You nodded, making your way to the drawers, fingers hovering over the handles before finally pulling one open. Clothes you had long forgotten stared back at you—old sweaters, worn-out T-shirts, a jacket you used to love but hadn't thought about in years.

You picked it up, running your fingers over the fabric. It still smelled faintly of home.

Aki glanced over, watching you carefully. "You wanna keep that one?"

You swallowed past the lump in your throat and nodded. "Yeah."

He didn't question it. Just kept folding, packing, moving forward. The steady rhythm of it was grounding, the quiet presence of him beside you a comfort you hadn't realized you needed.

Piece by piece, the room slowly emptied. Every item placed into a box felt like another part of your past being neatly stored away. It hurt, but it also felt necessary. Like closure.

At some point, Aki sat back on his heels, glancing at you. "You good?"

You looked around the room—at the half-packed boxes, at the dust motes drifting in the air, at the man who had somehow become a constant in your life.

You nodded, a small, exhausted smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah. I think so."

At the end of a long, emotional, and tedious day—during which Denji and Power had a competition to see who could pack up your books the fastest, leading to at least three toppled stacks and a heated argument about what counted as 'packed'—you stood idle in the middle of the remnants of what was once your home.

The house was eerily quiet now. For hours, it had been filled with movement, voices, the rustling of cardboard and tape being stretched over boxes. But now, with everything packed, the silence felt thick, almost suffocating. You turned in place slowly, taking it all in—the empty shelves, the dust-covered corners, the pale outlines on the walls where frames had once hung. It was strange, seeing it like this. A hollowed-out version of what it had once been.

Your fingertips skimmed the edge of the kitchen counter as you walked past it. Every surface felt different, unfamiliar, as if stripping the house of its belongings had also stripped it of its warmth. You had spent years here. Laughed here. Cried here. Loved here.

A lump formed in your throat. You swallowed hard against it.

Aki stood near the doorway, watching you carefully. He wasn't rushing you, just waiting, like he always did. Letting you take your time.

You exhaled shakily and turned your gaze to the boxes stacked neatly near the entrance. Everything you had deemed worth keeping was in those boxes. Everything else was being left behind. It was a sobering thought. You had built a life here once, but now that life was packed away, ready to be carried off to someplace new.

This is it.

Your fingers curled into a loose fist at your side. You weren't sure if you had expected closure, or if you had expected something louder—some final, dramatic feeling to mark the end of this chapter. But all you felt was exhaustion. A quiet, aching kind of finality.

Aki took a step toward you. "You ready?"

You nodded, but it felt more like an instinctive reaction than a real answer. Still, you forced yourself to move. Your steps were slow as you made your way to the counter. The key felt heavier than it should have, the cool metal pressing into your palm as you turned it over one last time.

For years, this key had meant something. It had been yours. It had been home. Now, it was just another thing to let go of.

You placed it on the counter with deliberate care, the soft clink of metal against wood ringing through the empty space. It sounded final. It sounded like goodbye.

You let out a slow breath, staring at it for a moment longer, as if expecting it to change, as if expecting to feel something different now that it was done. But the weight in your chest remained the same.

Aki didn't say anything as you turned back toward him. He didn't need to. His expression was calm, steady, a quiet reassurance in the midst of your uncertainty.

You nodded once. "Let's go."

And with that, you walked to the door. Your hand hesitated on the handle for only a second before you pushed it open, stepping out into the cool night air.

The door clicked shut behind you.

It was only when you took that first step away from the house that something in your chest loosened. The weight that had been pressing down on you all day lifted, if only slightly. You could still feel the sadness, the ache of leaving behind something so familiar—but beneath it, something else stirred.

Relief.

Freedom.

a/n: anndddd just like that its officially over. on a scale of 1-10 how relieved are we? i'm a 12, bc i was the one who had to write all of that bs LMFOAOAOA!! OUR GIRL IS FINALLY FREEEEEE GRRRAAAAAAA!!! i cannot believe this story has come this far. it's drawing to a close in a few chapters, though, and i just wanted to take some time to thank all of you for coming along on this ride. this is officially the longest fanfic ive ever written. i loved writing the development of their relationship theyre so marriage coded. let me know what ending you hope for!!!! (who knows, I might incorporate it into what i have planned ;))) stay tuned! mama loves u all xx

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#shameless!#aki x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #aki fluff #aki smut #denji #aki hayakawa

27 notes · View notes

sleepynoons · 7 months ago

Text

akaashi x gn!reader, sfw

cw: mentions of skin picking (akaashi picks at his fingers)

notes: sorry for being afk lol was moving back into college, and now that i have settled back in, here's my obligatory, written-in-30-minutes college!au akaashi bc he is The College Au. happy that i'm beginning to write for hq characters bc they all mean so much to me. also requests/suggestions are closing this weekend, so pls drop by my ask box by then if you want smth!! feel free to drop by for no good reason, too!

THE TWO of you don’t even have to say anything. one glance at each other, and you both shut your eyes and exhale deeply.

to be fair, neither of you are surprised either. the two other students in your project group are notorious for skipping classes and buying homework answers off of other students. it should have been a given they wouldn’t help out on this presentation either.

the grandfather clock against the adjacent wall is an old thing, really – wood faded and paint chipped off –, yet the ticks of its hands click crisply in contrast to the soft sounds of laminated textbook pages flipping and footsteps rubbing against carpet. just like an old grandparent would, every tick of the clock is a nagging reminder directed at you and akaashi: “that’s one less minute you have to work on that project! oh, and another! are the two of you ever going to get started?”

you pull out your chair and sit next to akaashi, who looks more exhausted than he usually does. there are dark, dark shadows under his eyes, and there are swollen cuts around his cuticles from where he tugs on petty, persistent hangnails.

you shove a hand into the back pocket of your pants. i thought i had one on me, you think, pouting slightly as you continue to feel through crushed receipts, loose threads, and whatever other junk you crammed in back there. finally, you feel the familiar papery texture. there it is!

“akaashi, here.” you slide it over to him, and he glances at it before focusing back onto his laptop screen. it’s almost like he doesn’t recognize the object as he says nothing for a few moments, but then, he looks back and purses his lips, his best attempt at a grateful smile in his current state.

“thanks for the bandaid,” he mutters as he begins to open up the packaging.

you shrug your shoulders and furrow your brows. “i should’ve brought more,” you say. “that’s on me.”

he shakes his head as he wraps the bandaid around the knuckle of his thumb – the most tortured of all his fingers. “don’t apologize. i should be the one taking care of myself anyway.”

“i doubt a single college student can take care of themself, let alone a project meant for four people,” you groan.

“they don’t count as people,” he deadpans.

you choke a laugh. “akaashi, don’t be mean.”

“i’m only stating a fact.”

at this point, akaashi has already returned to working, typing away and switching tabs every so often. you, too, grab your things to contribute.

the project is more tedious than anything, and luckily, the two of you had completed your respective one-fourths of the work ahead of time. however, the two of you were hoping – naïvely, might you add – that your other teammates would pull through, so you had procrastinated on finishing their parts until the day before the deadline.

and things continued downhill from there. you and akaashi were supposed to meet in the morning to dedicate the whole day to completing and revising the presentation. however, his research advisor emailed him last-minute to help with some urgent manuscripts, so the two of you delayed until 4pm. but then you got roped into a club event, which included dinner and a drinking afterparty, and not wanting to cause a ruckus with your seniors, you obliged. needless to say, it’s now 9pm and there is a whole half-empty presentation waiting to be filled.

at least the one thing that is working in your favor is your mechanical teamwork. you work on a section, akaashi on another, and when both of you are done, you switch to polish each other’s works. akaashi is also a fantastic writer and critic, so not only do you feel like you’re learning from his suggestions, you’re also not devastated in the process. even with potentially very shallow questions, he’s patient.

about an hour in, you mumble, “wait, i’m not sure if this makes sense.” you turn your computer towards him, and he leans forward, slightly in front of you, to see clearer.

from this proximity, you notice the way his nose twitches, along with the way his lips form a pout, as he readjusts the bridge of his glasses. you can also trace the curvature of his ears, following the round of the helix down to the lobe. and his eyebrows –

then again, these are things you’ve known for a while now. you’re just taking note of details you’ve already memorized. you’ve come to terms with your crush on akaashi since the second week of the fall term, truly having experienced love at first sight. but you’re too tired for a relationship, and if you’re exhausted, well, akaashi is probably having a worse time.

and by the looks of it, akaashi suddenly sniffles. you pull out a tissue immediately.

he chuckles as he takes it. “that pocket of yours is pretty handy.”

you frown. because you did miss a detail.

akaashi is flushed from his cheeks up to his temples and ears. and upon reflection, his voice sounded more gravelly, without its usual snark, when he was making the jab at your project mates earlier.

oh.

“are you sick?” you ask.

the first time he doesn’t hear you, intently reading through your write-up. you ask again, this time also tapping his shoulder.

“sorry, what?” he mumbles.

“akaashi, i said, are you sick?”

a confused expression flashes across his face before ot returns to its typical unbothered look.

“don’t worry about it,” he grunts,

“you should get some rest,” you insist.

“and what about the project then?”

you really shouldn’t be doing this to yourself because it would mean pulling an all-nighter, but you also don’t want akaashi to work while he’s under the weather. “i’ll just do it myself. i’ll send you everything by the morning, so you can take a look over it when you wake up, and then we can submit it by class time, yeah?”

he gawks at you, terrified at your proposal. he shakes his head, adamant when he says, “there’s no way i could let you do that. you need to rest, too.”

“not as much as you,” you argue back. “if you’re not too sick, then you can sleep it off and wake up early to help. but right now, you need to go back to your dorm.”

he fights back, trying to convince you of otherwise, but you’ve already crossed your arms across your chest firmly and are staring at him with a quirked eyebrow, visibly unimpressed.

akaashi can only roll his eyes at your stubbornness.

as he packs his things, he looks over his shoulder at you and asks, “is there anything i can do to make it up to you?”

“akaashi, are you being serious? you don’t need to make up anything. just feel better for me, alright?”

now he’s looking at you like you’re a total idiot.

you just sigh.

“fine, just treat me to a meal or something, alright? now go.”

“i was going to take you out for dinner anyway, but fine. i’ll pay for lunch tomorrow.”

“yeah, sounds good. now go!”

akaashi leaves, and you return back to your work.

the hours fly by. other students begin to filter out, and by the time it’s past midnight, you’re only accompanied by a night-shift student librarian and the grandfather clock. you lean back into your chair, taking a quick breather.

you think back to your conversation with akaashi before he left. gotta finish the project before he wakes up, only six more slides to go, i wonder what we should have for lunch, he did say we’d get to eat together another time –

you jolt. sitting upright, your eyes widen slowly as you recount akaashi’s words. he said he would take me out anyway.

are you hallucinating? so delusional that you can’t tell between fantasy and reality? he said those exact words, right? did he mean it the way you think it means?

the clock chimes loudly as a new hour begins. you’re thrown back to work, but really, you don’t even know how you managed to finish the assignment because, the entire time, you kept thinking about akaashi and his intentions.

what does he mean?

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aluhnim · 1 year ago

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Hello!! When you start a comic, how do you go about deciding your panelling layouts?? If this is too big of an ask for covid brain, how about your favorite song of the moment / a song that really inspires you?? I hope you feel better soon!

I was searching around for an old write up I did for some Original Character Tournament folks who were interested in my thoughts on panels and layouts. To try and answer your question, I go off of vibe now that I’ve made a LOT of comics. However, as much as it doesn’t seem like it at times, I do typically stay as “conventional” as possible to make sure my readers are still following the plot. I make a lot of adjustments along the way. Smarter layouts allow me to draw less, and drawing less is better for me in the long run! It’ll allow me to put more time in other places of the comic.

Anyway, here’s my write up back in the day that’ll hopefully answer some comic drafting questions!

More conventional paneling is a necessary stepping stone because you know your reader won’t get lost and the structure will have you more focused on flow and pacing. It seems remarkably easy to do comics with more “static” or traditional panel layouts but they work for a reason. There’s no real need to break out of something that works, unless you want to! Breaking out of the structure can really add some OOMPH to your important pages.

Some tips, note that these have been my preferences and some definitions don’t quite match their descriptors.

Bleed

I consider open panels or panels that stretch out beyond the edge of the page to be considered bleeds. They’re simple ways to make you feel like your not just sticking within your margins and making your page feel less static without much extra effort. Manga does this quite often, and Western American comics, especially during action packed moments or large splashes.

Some examples of things bleeds can do:

- They can also be used as transitions between pages (first panel bleeding in, last panel bleeding out).

- They can be used to interrupt or add a beat to a moment. Although the example below is mostly bleeds, you can see the one full panel at the bottom stands out because it’s not like the others. A subtle beat.

- They can also just be used to extend a panel to make it bigger. That seems obvious, but larger panels do make people spend a bit more time on them, regardless if there is text or not. Though, “more time” means probably several milliseconds or even a few seconds more than usual.

- Collaging with a bleed is a really great way to think beyond panels and open the space. You will be spending more time thinking of how much you can cram in along with the flow of how your text is going to lead through a series of images.

- Removing panel borders can really open a space and allow for more room without having to go above and beyond the ideas of comics and panels. (sorry, gale galligan is just good)

Gutters

The space between panels is almost just as important as the panel itself. That’s where readers and inferring actions and time. You can only control so much of what the reader is doing between their eye shifting between panels, which is why composition within panels and clarity are so important.

Gutters can also be played with! A simple example is changing your gutters from white to all black. It can be a subtle shift in time, a transition to a new space.

Even the amount of space between panels leaves an idea of time! I think webtoons/manhwa really work well with the gutter space, leaving you to physically scroll and feel the effects of time passing with the amount of empty space you encounter.

It’s important to understand that the gutter has a lot more to do with reader imagination, and your goal is to have them understand that the next panel is somehow plausible.

THIS SCENE EMFIELDS DID IS VERY FUCKING GOOD. TIME, SPACE, GO OOOOOOFFFF KING

Panels themselves can be a part story!

This one is a difficult thing to write for, since I feel like there isn’t many examples out there. There are very structural examples of panels out there, like Watchman. While the 9 panel grid was intentional, it also was likely the only way to deal with Alan Moore’s script effectively without missing details. The panels themselves don’t ENHANCE the story, but a means to an end.

But it’s also an incredibly good example of how conventional comics paneling can still be effective, especially when you start breaking that mold just a little bit.

But then you have comics like M. Dean’s “Baby fat”. Where the comic paneling itself never strays from its original structure, but is indicative of the story itself, representing tiles, mirrors, patterns.

Or Robert Hunter’s “The New Ghost” which he uses circular motifs and has circular panels representing the telescopes sight line.

Predicting Reader Navigation

These are my rules of thumb when doing general sight reading panel by panel.

1. Text is what people gravitate to first. It’s the context needed to approach the next panel.

2. Faces are next, this provides context to what the subject is feeling.

3. Familiar people/animals/objects and SFX.

4. Everything else!

This is an example of sight reading notes I gave to my friend Holocene when we were collaborating.

#long post #asks #blogging

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physalian · 6 months ago

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On Tournament Arcs (I want more of these in lit)

The “tournament arc” is a staple of shonen anime. I’d find it very hard to believe anyone on here hasn’t at least seen gifs of it so here’s a quick breakdown: Your core cast of characters + extras and new adversaries are all thrown together in a tournament competing for anything from the low stakes of cash or bragging rights to who lives and who dies by the hand of the nefarious god throwing the tournament.

These are extremely popular for a few reasons:

They’re fodder for a ton of episodes without a whole lot of complicated story—the story is baked into the different rounds of combat

There’s a chance for a lot of different intense character interaction that might not normally happen pitting two random names against each other

They can sometimes artificially raise the stakes—in isolation, winning the Round of 16 in a series about saving the world doesn’t mean anything, but winning any one game might give the heroes the chance to stay alive just one more day

I just rewatched the first tournament arc of My Hero Academia a few days ago (the first sports festival) and man, I do miss when this show was good.

So! While tournament arcs aren’t exclusive to shows with super powers or magical abilities like Naruto—they’re baked into a sports anime—today’s essay is all about the efficiency and shake-ups that MHA pulled off, since its pacing is something you could realistically cram into a written novel, and, well, I like this one.

Disclaimer: This show is incredibly manipulative, in a good way (at least in earlier seasons it was in a good way). Elements are way more dramatic than they should be due to the music, the animation, and the pacing, but you’re having fun right along with the characters at the edge of your seat. The excitement isn’t manufactured, you’re hyped right along with the people in the stands. This isn’t very translatable to page, unfortunately.

Second disclaimer: I DNFed this show midway through an episode in season 5 and never went back. It got so bad I literally turned it off in both disgust and sheer boredom. I am not an MHA superfan.

—

Pacing:

For a shonen anime, this first tournament arc is brutally efficient. Take a show like Naruto or DBZ, shows known for their filler, and their tournament arcs for any given season will last 50 episodes or more. MHA’s is 11 episodes, 12 if you want to include the setup in episode 1. In that time, there’s three unique stages of combat and an entire three-tiered 1v1 tournament within the tournament.

Some fights last two episodes, some last about 30 seconds, but none are too drawn out, or too rushed, based on who’s fighting and what their powers are.

Example: Todoroki kind of has “instakill” powers (or at least he does in this arc, he forgets about it 6 episodes later) and if he’s up against anyone who doesn’t have the specific kind of powers that can counteract his, the fight’s decided pretty much instantly, like when he’s up against quasi-Spiderman Sero, and manifests a whole glacier from teenage angst. When he is up against somebody who he can’t freeze immediately, well, that’s where the drama comes from. This is his arc, after all.

Character fodder:

Not only that, but it’s not 11 straight episodes of 1v1. The first leg of combat is an obstacle race, the second is a “cavalry battle” with teams, and the last, the majority, is 1v1. These different challenges require the core characters to think different ways, and as the number of competitors thin dramatically, different side characters get the chance to shine at different points in the arc as more and more are disqualified.

But the way that this arc is written leaves even some core characters in the protagonist class on the outs pretty quickly, even those who make it to the final round, usually due to bad matchups. Characters who had excelled either in power, physical ability, or intelligence just aren’t suited to face whoever they’re up against and it shocks them as much as it does the audience. Even when it forces them to get creative—and that is one thing I loved about this show in its early years, how smart some characters had to be with their niche powers to compete with the natural born powerhouses.

A surprising standout fight was Bakugo vs Uraraka, where nearly every single person in the stands, including the teachers, all professional heroes, were like “dude you can’t hit a girl, you can explode shit with your hands, she’s only got anti gravity” and Bakugo did not give a single fuck about what’s in Uraraka’s pants. It shows that he’s smart, and that he’s a dick, but he has a shit ton of respect for other people’s power and determination when they have as much as he does. Only one other character, their personal teacher, Aizawa, notices: To go easy on her would be a far greater insult than to treat her like an equal challenger.

She lost, in a heartbreaking defeat, but she absolutely made him work for it. It did so much for his character, this whole arc did, but more on that later.

Audience expectations:

But the big reason this arc worked so well was how it subverted expectations. Midoriya is (or used to be) the show’s protagonist. In this arc, he’s got two real main adversaries in his way to gold: Bakugo, a kid with extremely impressive raw talent that he’s honed with a dangerous perfectionist streak, and Todoroki, who wants to win by half-assing it to piss off his abusive hero dad. Both of these two are far more competent with their powers while Midoriya still has the training wheels on his.

Usually, in these types of shows, if the hero doesn’t win, he comes in a very close second in the big dramatic final showdown. It’s part of his arc to be not quite ready yet. But usually, he wins, and the character he’d beaten to a pulp learns some humility and joins the hero squad in the next arc out of respect to their better.

MHA doesn’t do that. Midoriya never faces Bakugo in the 1v1 and he faces Todoroki in the semis, not the finals, and he loses.

The big fight of the tournament is Midoriya vs Todoroki. I used to hear it compared to Rock Lee vs Gaara (which I actually have seen despite not liking Naruto) and it’s… not, if only because it’s missing about 300 episodes of buildup and drama between these two.

But the fight isn’t just a fistfight. Midoriya wants to win, yes, but he’s a hero, first, and he wants to save his friend in the true shonen way of punching friendship into his enemies. Their fight plus the buildup takes two episodes, littered with Todoroki’s PTSD flashbacks (to a gorgeous score) that basically boils down to:

Todoroki: Wah I hate my powers, fuck my dad, I’m gonna half-ass this out of spite and my raw power is enough to win

Midoriya: Fuck you dude, if you want to beat me, you have to give it your all, and it’s not his powers. You may have inherited them, but it’s your power.

Well, Midoriya gets what he asked for, and Todoroki does not at all hold back.

And that’s the semifinal.

With Midoriya out, there’s still the rest of the semis and the final round. This does not happen.

So why did it happen? Because our hero isn’t ready yet. He’s so new with his powers, so inexperienced in combat, that so far he’s skated by on his smarts and his sheer raw ability the few times he’s able to let it out like releasing a pressure valve, seriously injuring himself in the process. Against kids who’ve been training their whole lives, being smart only got him so far.

It was the perfect path for his character, one we’ve only known for maybe 30 episodes in total at this point in the show. If he won or even just barely lost, that would have left so much less room for growth in later tournaments. He’s hella OP, but he’s not at all a Mary Sue, and his greatest strength—his heart—is what cost him the win. In the end, he lost the medal, but he won a friend.

And then the final round comes.

Bakugo vs Todoroki, the two most well-rounded kids in the class (in their whole grade level probably), after Bakugo opens the entire tournament with “I pledge that I’m going to win”.

Thing is, with Bakugo, he’s an asshole, but he’s an asshole who continuously puts his money where his mouth is. He’s never blowing smoke. If he says he’s going to do something, by god, he will do it.

So the final round comes and Bakugo tells Todoroki that he wants to win fair and square, that Todoroki'd better not hold back, he’d better give it his all, because going easy on Bakugo would be giving him the win, and he ain’t no charity case.

That… does not happen. One does not overcome a lifetime of childhood trauma by the Power of Friendship and one speech in this show. Todoroki botches it, gets his ass handed to him, and Bakugo wins the tournament, and he is pissed.

Character Arcs:

I already talked about Midoriya above and won’t repeat myself, but like I said above, tournament arcs are a fantastic way to do many things at once, which is crucial to pacing. It won’t feel stale, no matter how long or repetitive it is, so long as the characters are still developing within that repetition. This was about showing off their powers, yes, but the pressure to perform and get their names out their in a highly saturated, cynical heroism market of capitalism is a lot for 15 year old kids.

Some are out there to make money, being a hero to their families. Some are out there to be the best. Some are out there to be the friendly neighborhood super kid. Since all but one character must lose, everybody but Bakugo failed in some way, big or small, to make the impact they wanted on tournament day. And Bakugo, though he won, feels like he still failed because he won basically by default.

Since it’s set so early in the show, one would think that it would be a fantastic foundation for where all the core characters see themselves and where they go from here. If you’re writing this into a novel and you don’t have a million characters that don’t matter, it’s a brutally efficient way to establish the major players in high-octane fashion.

I’mma gush about Bakugo for a second now: He and Todoroki are two sides of the same coin in this arc. Both are plagued by expectations because of their powers, and both suffer because of it. Todoroki’s been beaten like a dog by his dad to hone his fire and ice powers to one day usurp the number one hero.

Bakugo, though, Bakugo is “the gifted kid” who suddenly entered a world where the gap between him and everyone inferior to him is a lot smaller. He has incredible power, which has always gotten him high expectations and little margin for fucking up and looking weak—cause if you’ve got the ability to make explosions with your hands, you have to be the best all day every day. There is no falling off the wagon, there are no sick days, there is no flab or fat or cheat days.

All of this is an undercurrent in this arc. He has such high expectations for himself, such high expectations thrown on him by hero society, such critical views of his attitude and his powers—he was literally called a villain when he fought Uraraka and didn’t treat her like a “frail” little girl—that when he wins because Todoroki throws the fight, it’s the biggest insult anyone could do to him.

Nobody else cares, but Bakugo cares. In his desperate quest to always be the best or else, winning by default doesn’t prove anything to him. He doesn’t want the medal, he doesn’t want this victory by his name, he doesn’t want anything except a rematch that truly challenges him. And mad respect to this kid for it.

—

Some things to consider for your tournament arc should you choose to write one

Every character should have their own separate goals and reasons for winning, beyond simply “winning”. Why do they want to win, or what will happen to them, internally or externally, if they lose?

Would it be better for your hero to win right now, or lose so they have room to grow? Who else loses and how? Are they disqualified, do they cheat, is it a devastating defeat or a photo finish?

What do these people do to themselves in their desperation to win? Do they hurt themselves, go past their physical limit? Do they bully themselves and pick their faults apart? Are they completely different people when they’re under this kind of pressure? Who’s overconfident? Who’s exactly as competent as they say they are?

What are the best matchups, not for spectacle, but for character development? In the written medium, character work absolutely comes before how pretty it might look one day on the silver screen, and that’s what will hold audience attention long after the arc is over and done with. That’s what will have people coming back to reread over and over again.

Remember: The tournament is never just about the combat, it’s about the combatants.

#writing #writeblr #writing a book #writing advice #writing resources #writing tools #story structure #writing tips #character development #my hero academia

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goth-boyfriends · 6 months ago

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i just finished and scheduled part 5 of goth boyfriends! ; _ ; i did the last 8 chapters on a very short timeframe in the last few months… i started part 5 early 2023 haha, but then i kept getting sick and all that, but now i feel like maybe for a while i can work steadily so i will try my best!

Those are the last 9 chapters of part 5 in this pic! whoah! (i put the anniversary illustration on top to avoid spoiling, but all the rest are comics pages and cover! for those who discover it, each chapter is 7 pages!

i tried to put it with part 4, but it was a tad too much for the sleeve! : ( a little surprised as part 1 to 3 are in one, but i used printer paper (80 g/m² at best) which was much more slim! i upgraded to 200 g/m² but 'downgraded' to 160(ish) g/m² halfway because it was more than enough. thinking of trying 120 g/m² so i can carry more paper around. i have to test if it fits all mediums i want to use!

so new sleeve for part V it is! i don't think i can cram many parts in one sleeve anymore now that i use bulkier paper! I spend a lot of time (re) organizing the pages i have around this project! it really feel like such a workout now! ; _ ;

starting to take space on the bookshelf! i'm both proud and a little scared about the space as it's very small here. i had to move a lot of things around to possibly get a new bookshelf in the next few months if i can afford it!

So, until my may 2025 (it feels surreal to write this!) there will be a new page every 3 days if i scheduled correctly! (might be a day more or less in-between chapters because i suck at maths! ; _ ;)

me? i will be starting part 6 soon! hoping to find a good pace, and stay diligent to not be surprised by sickness or other life troubles too unexpectedly.

ganbatte everyone! : p

xoxo, ken

#goth boyfriends #okenki #webcomic #comics #bonus #yapping #extra

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breakfast-cereal · 6 months ago

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a cure for monotony

word count: 1.2k

description: Yagami Light was bored

notes: written for Day 1 of @deathnotetober 2024

[main masterlist] [work on ao3]

(c: Yayoi Kusama)

Yagami Light was bored, but not in the typical sense of disinterest. Light cared for various things: school, his parents, his sister, morality, justice. The list goes on. The thing is, life was monotonous.

Every day, Light suffered the same idiotic ramblings of his peers. Did you hear that Aiko-chan is dating Haruto? I got so drunk at that party last night! Hey, Yagami-kun, do you have the answers to the homework?

It wasn’t limited to school. Wherever Light went, he was tortured with the knowledge of his superiority. These people wasted their time gossiping and chatting about nonsense, living out their immoral lives without a care in the world.

Maybe life was more than monotonous. It was torturous until Light saw the Death Note.

He brushed it off as chain mail. Idiots loved those things. Forward this email, or you’ll be subjected to Reiko Kashima’s curse. Light scoffed but shoved the book into his school bag anyway. The black cover stained his hands. Call it morbid curiosity.

At his desk, Light flipped through the blank pages, fascinated and disgusted at the effort in creating the prank. He pushed it into his drawer, fighting the itch in his hands.

Light scribbled a few math problems into his workbook, glancing from his neat handwriting to the TV on his side table. He huffed and grabbed the remote. Morbid curiosity.

The news channel broadcasted the face of Otoharada Kurou, an older man hijacking a daycare. Light scowled as glee flooded his body. What depravity.

In his seventeen years of life, he has heard several arguments against the death penalty but disagreed with all of them. Men like Otoharada deserve to die. When activists say it’s immoral to kill another human being, he nearly laughs. Is it not the pinnacle of morality to remove filth from this earth? The justice system exists to rid Japan of depraved criminals. He has never felt the urge to defend them.

Light scribbled Otoharada’s name, keeping his face in mind like the notebook said. He looked at his watch, noting the seconds ticking by. Forty seconds. In forty seconds, the world would be free of Otoharada.

Thirty-five seconds passed, and nothing happened. Light flushed. He couldn’t believe himself, falling victim to a stupid prank like a common fool, too stuck in the emotions of it all. He shook his head, returning to his math problems.

The reporter gasped. Light swiveled, jumping from his chair to stare at the TV in horror. Otoharada died. Light killed him. Thickness welled in his throat, black like the ink staining Otoharada’s name on the Death Note’s page. Yagami Light killed a man. He wanted to vomit.

When Light picked up his pencil, his hands shook furiously. The reporter continued in the background, her words rattling between his ears. He couldn’t believe it worked. Was he a murderer?

He ran his fingers along the Death Note’s cover, sliding it inside his desk drawer. For the first time, Yagami Light was no longer bored.

Light gripped his cram school books under his arm, slinking into the bright 7-Eleven. On his walk home, he watched the degeneracy unfold around him like clockwork. Darkness brought out the wicked, and he began believing the creatures of the night in horror films were nothing more than amalgamations of Tokyo’s midnight streets.

Drunks stumbling out of bars, harassing any woman they can get their hands on. Students around his age, hanging off the arms of older men from the club they got into with their fake IDs. People had no shame, no decency. It revolted him. While they weren’t criminals, Light couldn’t deny the world would be better off without them.

A scream sounded from outside the store. Light looked up from the rows of energy drinks, catching sight of a group of men assaulting a terrified woman. He sneered and ran his hands along the side of his bookbag.

Light pulled a magazine from the magazine stand and slid the Death Note between its pages. On the man’s lips hung his name: Shibuimaru Takuo. He scribbled a few iterations, crossing his fingers the kanji were right. Finally, he etched 渋井丸拓男 [1] into the page next to plain characters reading traffic accident.

The woman struggled from Shibuimaru’s grasp, starting down the street, her coat billowing behind her. Shibuimaru followed, revving the engine of his bike with furrowed brows.

Light scoffed. Of course, it wouldn’t work. He was naïve for thinking the first time wasn’t a fluke.

He returned to the energy drinks, plucking out his favourite flavours. Shibuimaru’s gang shouted. Light stared at the scene; Takuo’s bike was crushed against the concrete. His hands shook, and he forced the Death Note back into his book bag.

For the first time, Yagami Light killed someone who was not a criminal. Shibuimaru had not faced a trial in court, and he had not been found guilty.

Light stumbled out of the 7-Eleven, clutching his chest. He fell against the brick wall outside the store and felt dirty; his hands soiled with the death of an innocent. But that wasn’t a fair judgement. Shibuimaru was far from innocent. If Light hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve raped that woman. He would’ve been a criminal.

His body sparked with exhilaration. Yagami Light realized the Death Note was what he had been looking for all this time.

After Shibuimaru, Light spent his free nights scanning the NPA’s database and monitoring the news. Every stroke of his pen was liberating; every criminal erased from the world was a step closer to divinity.

The new possibilities unfurling elated Light. A world free of evil, free of cruelty. He held morality in his palm, and it was intoxicating.

He understood the implications of his actions. Light was smart, smarter than the average person. He knew murder received the death penalty, but he would martyr himself if he had to.

With the peoples’ interests at heart, Light trudged forward, correcting the NPA’s failures. He left the deaths blank but sensed the ripples of every heart attack along his spine. Light wanted criminals to know they were being punished.

When he wasn’t studying or correcting, he spent some time on occult blogs, learning the intricacies of the Death Note. To his surprise, no Shinigami came to him. He imagined they observed him and agreed.

The more he learnt about the Death Note, through use and reading, a strange reverence grew inside him. Not reverence for the Shinigami, but for the notebook itself. The gods blessed him with a tool to rid the world of evil. Light never wanted more.

Light took his Death Note from his desk, placing it alongside his textbooks and a black pen. He scanned the list of names imprinted on the pages and flipped on the TV.

Morality and justice used to be concepts Light could only ever fantasize about. Now, he held the power to enact them in his fingers.

For the first time in his life, Yagami Light felt true, unequivocal love.

[1]: The kanji for Shibuimaru Takuo

#deathnotetober2024 #death note fanfiction #death note #light yagami

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heroictoonz · 10 months ago

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So, I finished Red vs Blue. Just now like not even a few seconds ago as of writing this post. It was, well to say it bluntly it wasn’t great. I didn’t agree with pretty much most of the endings for these characters and I wish the final season had been longer than less than an hour an a half. Most movies are longer than that these days. But, I will say, that I cried. I cried and sobbed and am still crying writing this because even if I didn’t like how it ended it didn’t end horribly and I can tell it ended in love. All the characters, the ones they had in the season at least, got their emotional 15 minutes of fame. Maybe Tucker didn’t get much at all but, I dunno. As the guy whose only personality trait is liking Tucker RvB I weirdly didn’t mind all too much. Donut wasn’t in it either but he did great in season 17 so I also don’t mind that too terribly.

I will say, I don’t think there was any hope of RvB having an ending that I, personally, would think was ‘good’ or ‘satisfying’. Not perfectly at least. And I don’t say this to be mean. But, this was clearly the kind of show that was meant to run on till it was forced to die. They probably weren’t planning on ending it when they did and it took the company getting taken to pasture for it to be over. With as much random bullshit that they crammed into this show I never much expected for it all to be focused on or tied up in the finale. And this show didn’t start as something that took itself very seriously, but the ending was clearly taken with so much heart and care in mind and that’s all I can ask for from this show, I think.

They ended the show where it began. In a box canyon. They ended the story with Allison and Leonard. The people who unknowingly started all of this in the first place. They did what they could to tie in other loose ends and bring in some really cool ideas to make the ending interesting and still it’s own fun story. It made me sad to watch, honestly. Most the characters I have spent so many years loving just didn’t get the best endings. And I was always afraid of that but, hey maybe I’ll write a fic to give them a better one. Maybe it’s the endings that the RT team thought was most fitting for all of them, and I can understand why. I just, personally, enjoy happy endings. This one wasn’t as happy. But, it had hope in it. Especially Carolina and Wash’s last part. I hate the idea of some of these characters being dead and never coming back. I hate the idea of Grif leaving and never seeing any of the others again. But I get it, I understand the ending and I’m content with it. As weird as that might seem, honestly.

Whenever I finish something I’m always reminded of this Doctor Who episode I watched as a kid where he talks about how much he hates endings. How he will tear the last page from books he reads so they never have to end. It’s funny that without fail I think of that episode, that scene. Because in that episode the Doctor is forced to face an ending. One he doesn’t want but accepts anyways. This is me rambling but, I think every time I finish something I love this much and have loved for this long, whether the ending it good or bad, I think I understand that random Doctor Who episode more and more each time.

Did I like the ending season of Red vs Blue? Not fully. The ideas were cool but as with most of this show the execution wasn’t the best in my opinion. But, maybe I’m just a hard ass lol. But the ending did make me laugh, it made me cry, it made me smile and stim and feel. The ending made me feel. And it was a pretty good send off to a pretty great show. And hell, they got an ending. That’s harder to come by these days. Maybe that’s all I can ask for from it. Maybe that’s why even in my tears I’m content more than any other emotion.

But, it’s also weird. Like a really long chapter of my life is closing. I think this is also where I have to officially accept what happened to RT. As someone who’s followed RWBY, RvB, and Camp Camp for a really long time not to mention the lives and their gaming channel and all of that, it feels weird? Kinda bad, honestly, to see it end. I’ve, admittedly, been avoiding it. Avoiding talking or thinking about it. And I doubt the guys told all the stories they had for this show, but I’m glad they got to end it. I’m glad they got at least that much.

It’s 2am and I have work in about 14 hours. I think I’m gonna go read fanfiction.

#red vs blue #rvb #toonz talks

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lackoftrumpets · 1 year ago

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The TTRPGs I played in 2023: Part 2

Near the end of November, I asked for recommendations on one page TTRPGs I should play for a event I ran. The goal was to play a TTRPG for about 40-50 minutes before swapping to something new. While I sadly didn't get around to playing all of the recommendations, I still appreciate all of the games people showed me. Reading new game is something I enjoy doing, so I still had fun even if they didn't make it to the table.

Before I go into each TTRPG individually, there was a common running theme between playing all of the games that I feel like I should say. As much as I enjoy the concept and writing one page and other extremely small TTRPGs, I will admit that playing them was a rough experience. Working with that small amount of mechanics and concepts was something me and the table were not used to and I'm not sure if these kind of games are something I will play more of later. Whenever I got excited by a mechanic is one of these games, I always felt like I wanted something more. I think these types of games are great thought experiments for game design, but I can understand why these type of games haven't gotten much traction in the mainstream (with a few exceptions). However, don't let my thoughts discourage you from writing these type of games. I still love making them because its a fun challenge to see how much content you can cram into such a small space. This was something that most of these games did fairly well, so lets move onto that. If you want to check out any of these games or their authors, I have everything linked on this post.

Rollers of the Lost Artifact by JayBlnk6

This was the starting game and it left a good first impression. In this game players are archeologists looking for special artifacts. The simple skill system was nice, but what I really loved was the inventory system. Each item size has a certain shape and you have to fit it into a 3x3 square. I always love inventory systems that force you to play a Tetris (turning a mundane thing into something fun), and this game did a good job fitting it into a smaller system. Since we were playing multiple games at once, the players didn't get to sell the artifact, but I still appreciate the rules where players get a choice on what they wish to do with it.

Rats in Space by Jay Writes

I think the title of this game explains itself. The players are rats in space looking for a special piece of cheese. The theming of this game was a lot of fun to play with. The morale system was also an interesting addition to the d6 system I've seen a lot of one page games (including my own) use. It was fun to see the players start to panic as their moral system got lower because of a large streak of bad rolls. I also really liked the d6 table for determining one last consequence when the cheese is found. The players thought they finally found it, but then realized they had one last obstacle to conquer (that being the horrible smell in the room).

Rough Beginnings by @tornioduva

This was the most unique game I played that night and despite some odd moments, I had a lot of fun with it! The players are simple group of adventurers, but there is a small element of mystery to it. They each have a secret personality trait and one of them is secretly try to sabotage the rest of the group. I love the creative ideas this game had, but it was a bit of an awkward play. In order for the adventurers to escape, the GM needs to roll a 9 from a 2d6 on the scenario table. The first round, I rolled a 9 for the first scenario. The second round, I rolled a 9 after the players went through about 15 scenarios, the majority of them being the players getting HP for succeeding. I love the concept of this game and I think it inspired me to make my own deception based TTRPG, but it was rather clunky. I have no issue with that at the end of the day. I love playing games that take risks and try new things!

By String and Song by @efangamez

I've enjoyed participating in game jams run and reading some games by efangamez before, so when somebody at the game community mentioned one of their one page games but couldn't remember the name, I knew where to find it. While the game they were recommending was Barbaria, I ultimately ended up going with this game because bards seemed like more fun to play and most of the games in this series seemed like they were reskins of each other. I feel kind of bad saying this, but the game just felt like one page D&D 5e. It's a d20 game which seems to be rare for one page TTRPGs and the way everything was written with Skill Checks and attacking seemed to invoke that game. I guess if you wanted to introduce smaller games to people who have only played D&D I guess this could be a good starting point, but I think most people would just ask to go back to D&D. If I had to guess, most of my negative feelings about this game likely come from me just being burnt out of D&D. It was written well and the enemy descriptions were flavorful, but I don't ever see myself going back to play this.

Honey Heist by gshowitt

Whenever I hear one page TTRPGs discussed, this game always seems to be recommended. After playing it, I can see why. The concept of being normal bears trying to break into a convention was already an instant sell. I loved the idea of the balance of trying to keep your bear and criminal parts from not taking over. It was one of the most interesting ideas for a fail state I've seen in a game. This the game we played for the least amount of time because it was near the end of the meeting and we were all tired, but the random animal chaos mixed in with surprisingly intricate criminal planning made for a fun mix.

#ttrpg #indie ttrpg #ttrpg design #tabletop games

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daintyduck99 · 2 years ago

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leaving notes for Rulie plz

The last day of school is always ridiculously—

Julie pulls Flynn out of the way as a large trash can barrels by, sighing as cheers erupt around them and a jock pops out.

Chaotic. It's ridiculously chaotic.

She just hopes that the guys aren't too involved in the chaos. The last thing they need is to get in trouble on their very last day of school.

Her hands move faster at the thought, sweeping stuff she no longer needs into the nearest jockless can. She starts cramming other things into her backpack to sort later, mostly shirts and sweaters.

One of them looks like Reggie’s, and she pulls it out to confirm that, yes, it's a flannel she stole from him months ago.

Flynn takes the opportunity to rifle through Julie's locker as Julie pulls the flannel on, quickly reclaiming a few items of her own.

She wrinkles her nose at the thick notebook lying in the bottom of the locker.

"Ugh, Jules, throw that away already."

Julie takes it out gingerly, shaking her head. She hugs it to her chest as Flynn groans, ducking her head to hide a blush.

"But you hate math!" Flynn exclaims. "Almost as much as I do. If you won't spike it into the nearest trash can, can't I?"

"No! Go spike your own notebook."

Flynn hums. "Nope, now I gotta know what's special about that one. Spill!"

Julie bites her lip. She finds a well-worn, dog-eared page and flips it around.

Flynn visibly melts, cooing as she reads.

These lines aren't for chatting / but your voice keeps me going / when my mind wants to roam / it leaps from each one

"That's cute. You wrote that part?"

Julie nods. She knows the silly, impromptu little song by heart, one that she'd totally forgotten to rip out before Reggie could see it, along with her sunshine doodles.

The page is also peppered with several of his smiley faces, a sunflower with hearts for leaves, and his equally silly response:

I'll always be cheering / On the rewired lines you're hearing / There's no problem you can't own / I'll be your number one

Flynn starts to flip through the pages, but Julie snatches them back. There's a good chance Flynn would land on his actual annotations, but there are also some conversations she'd never stop teasing Julie about, along with some she just…

Doesn't feel like sharing. Dream box material, scraps of secrets, sacred wishes.

Flynn beams. "I always knew there was something going on between you two!"

"Nothing official," Julie murmurs. "He's…"

"Sort of perfect for you?"

"In a band that's about to make it big!"

Flynn flaps her hand. "Long distance is a thing. I think you two could make it work. I mean, hello? Those lyrics alone?"

Julie sighs. She carefully tucks the notebook away in the back of her backpack, in the slim space for a laptop.

"I don't know, Flynn…"

Flynn grasps her hand. "Just come on!"

"I wasn't finished!" she yelps as Flynn drags her away, barely holding onto her backpack as they weave through the chaos, thankfully avoiding more jocks.

"Eh, you got everything important."

"But the janitors…"

The rest of her protest dies in her throat.

Reggie's laughing at something Willie drew on his little magnetic whiteboard, grinning like the absolute sunbeam he is, and Julie's heart starts to race. Especially…

Especially once his eyes land on her.

They get impossibly brighter, and his grin gets broader, and she might pass out.

"I better go check on Bobby," Willie says, which is entirely valid, but something about the way he says it and the look he exchanges with Flynn makes Julie squint.

Flynn adds, "And I'd better check on Carrie before she decides to throw away perfectly good sunglasses again," which, also valid, but—

"Oh, and Julie has to tell you something!"

If she didn't love Flynn, she'd be so dead.

Her and Willie both, honestly.

She giggles nervously as the two of them make their hasty retreat, only scooting closer to narrowly avoid an elbow to the face as another senior rips a folder in half.

Reggie just waits, looking at her with those bright, curious eyes, and she bites her lip.

Her gaze lands on his whiteboard, half taken up by Willie's drawing of a dog on a skateboard, and she moves without thinking, reaching for the marker.

Reggie makes a curious sound. "Wh—"

"No peeking!" she says through more nervous giggles, although they become a bit more genuine as he spreads his hands in an exaggerated show of surrender.

She scrawls a little sunflower, along with a handful of heartfelt words:

I want to be your number one, too. I love…

Which is when she runs out of room.

Huffing, she circles the you in your and draws a little arrow that leads back to it.

She steps away with shaking hands.

Reggie's breath hitches. "Julie—really?"

She nods, only to squeak as he scoops her into a fierce hug, hiding her flushed face in his chest. Her arms circle his waist.

It's nearly drowned out by a bunch of shouting, but he says, "I love you, too."

And she's always happy to see it in writing, texting him constantly during his first tour.

#what are we prompts #rulie #reggie x julie #rulie relajante #ficlets with ash #julie and the phantoms

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justice4billy · 1 year ago

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You're the worst- part seven

Warnings; smut and alpt of kissing, Christmas day theme

MERRY CHRISTMAS!! Been working on this most of the day, had to keep taking breaks between socialising. Hope you enjoy!

Billy x fem reader/ enemies to lovers

"OH MY GOSH!" Mariah screeched making Camille awake with a start. She blinked at the alarm clock the bright red lights hurting her eyes, she better have a good excuse for screaming at six in the morning.

"CAM!" Mariah squealed as she burst into her bedroom door.

"What is it? Its six am" Camille groaned rubbing her eyes.

"All flights have been cancelled till the twenty-eigth" Mariah stated.

Camilles eyes bugged out of her head. "You're lying" she accused getting out of bed and running into the living room, the news was playing on the TV. A big headline stating all flights to New York were cancelled. No, her flight was supposed to leave in five hours. "No, I'm checking the web" she cried out rushing to get Mariahs laptop.

"Already checked hun" Mariah stated handing her the open laptop.

Camille scanned the page and logged onto her emails, there were countless emails sent stating her flight was now rearranged to the twenty eight of December. "You planned this" she accused glowering at Mariah who looked at her with a smug grin.

"Aww, diddums guess your stuck with us for Christmas after all" she stated smugly turning on.her heel.." I'm going back to bed" she called.

"But I don't have anything to wear" Camille cried out, she had only packed enough for a few days.

"We'll go shopping and get you one" Mariah called out her voice getting more distant as she exited the living room.

Camille groaned. "On Christmas eve! It's going to be hell" she groaned.

......................................................................

The mall was hell. Just as Camille predicted, it was full.of people cramming in last minute shopping, she lost count of all the deprecate men she had seen scrambling to.get a last minute gift for their partners.

"There's not going to be anything left" Camille grumbled as they got off the escalator.

"Will.you quit moaning?" Mariah tusked as she took Camille dragging her to Macys, stopping dead in ber tracks and making Camille almost run into the back of her.

"Billy?" Mariah asked.

Camille felt her face grow hot, she was sure she looked like a tomato right now. Plus, she was wearing one of Mariahs sweaters that was too tight for her curvy frame. Not that her outfit was important.

The hulking male turned around, his brows furrowing a look of.frustration on his face.

"What are you doing here?" Mariah asked.

"Trying to look for a turkey" Billy replied bluntly.

"Why?" Mariah asked.

Billy huffed. "Because I've been working my ass off at the garage and forgot to get one" he admitted cooly.

"Oh my Gosh, you are kidding" Mariah stated dramatically.

"Apparently take out isn't an option according to my sister" he stated with a shrug, before his eyes fluttered over to Camille who was stood behind Mariah. "Thought you'd gone home" he stated.

"Flight got cancelled" Camille responded meekly.

Billy smirked. "Shame" he replied. Camille wasn't sure if there was a hidden message behind those words.

"Well, problem.solved you won't need a turkey now because you and your sister are coming to us tomorrow" Mariah stated making Camilles eyes widen.

"S'okay we can manage" Billy dismissed.

"Nonsense, you won't find a turkey now and we've got an extra guest now.anyways" she winked at Camille who gave her a murderous glare. "I insist, Danny wouldn't want his best friend to.starve" Mariah pushed.

Billy scratched the back of his head. "You sure?" He asked.

Mariah beamed. "Absoloutley, dinner is at two but come anytime before then" Mariah stared.

"Okay, umm thanks" Billy replied still sounding unsure.

"Must dash" Mariah called giving him one last wave and pulling Camille along with her.

"You're such a schemer" Camille hissed glancing over her shoulder, to see the back of Billy's ass walking away. Jesus, now she was having a hot flush.

Mariah quirked a smile. "Wow, do you want two people alone on Christmas day? With no turkey? That's heartless" Mariah gasped with a wink.

Camille groaned. "You know what I mean" she groaned.

"Nope, I dont" Mariah replied with a smirk. "Oh my gosh this is perfect for you!" Mariah cried changing the subject and dragging Camille into the store. But Camille didn't even see the outfit, her mind of a certain blonde that was probably going to fuck up her life.

.................................................................

Christmas day came too quickly, much to Camilles dismay. Her stomach felt like it was rolling around, nerves rippling through her at the anticipation of how the day was going to go.

"Are you sure this isn't a bit over the top?" Camille asked pulling at the red jumpsuit.

"Of course not" Mariah stated dismissively as she perched on the end of camilles bed. "Oh shit, it's like eleven I need to go and finish the prepping" she stated.

They had been up and early exchanging presents. Camille had paid to have Mariahs gifts shipped a week ago, thinking she wouldn't be here Christmas day. But fate had other plans. God, she could have saved on the postage she thought as she surveyed herself in the mirror. The jumpsuit hugged her in all the right places, a cheeky amount of skin on display as the suit gaped at the back.

She sighed making her way towards the kitchen. "Can I help?" She asked looking at a frantic Mariah.

"No, I don't want you ruining your outfit" she dismissed.

Camille rolled her eyes. "What is the obsession with this outfit?".she asked.

"We have a special guest and you need to look good" Mariah asked.

Camille quirked a brow. "You mean guests? As in plural" she stared.

"Yeah, that's what I said" Mariah dismissed.

Camie huffed knowing she wouldn't get through to her friend, before deciding to stick on the television, watching mindlessly to kill the time. The doorbell rang alerting her, as she sat up straight and wiped the crinkles out of jer outfit.

"Danny! The door" she heard Mariah yell.

Camille hesdd frantic footsteps thundering down the hall, her stomach gurgling as she tried to calm her breathing. What the hell was wrong with her? She thought.

"Mom! Dad!" Danny exclaimed.

Camille sighed, pushing down the small pang of disappointment that fluttered in jer stomach.She heard the voices of Dannys parents before the living room door pushed open, two familiar faces popping through.

"Camille!" Rhona, Dannys mom exclaimed.

"Hi, its good to see you" Camille stating standing up and giving the older woman a hug.

"I swear you get more beautiful everutime I see you" Rhonda exclaimed. "Doesn't she Jeff?" Rhona asked nudint her husband.

Jeff beamed. "She does indeed" he agreed reaching to give her a hug.

"Wheres Mariah?" Rhona asked.

"The kitchen" Camille replied.

"OH, I best not disturb her" Rhona replied.

"That would be wise"Camille agreed. Mariah was like a bat out of hell when it came to cooking.

"Say, where is that handsome fella of yours?" Jeff asked.

Camille felt bile rise in her stomach, her mouth feeling like cotton wool. "We broke up" she murmured.

Rhona and Jeff's face changed, their faces morphing into sympathy. "Oh dear, we're so sorry" Rhona stated placing a hand on her arm.

"It's okay, turns out he wasn't the best guy" Camille.replied

"Rhona! Jeff!" Mariah exclaimed saving the awkward exchange as she bustled through the door.

The afternoon ticked on. Mariahs parents arrived around twelve-thirty, the adults falling into a comfortable conversation which Camille chewed nervously at her lip. Around quarter past one she decided to take a break from the mindless chatter, making her way to the kitchen where Mariah was finishing her prepping.

"I need a drink" Camille groaned trying to calm her nerves.

"Dont get to drunk, we still have guests coming!" Mariah chided.

Camille rolled her eyes downing her glass of prosecco. "He isn't coming" Camille stated trying not to sound bitter. Like she cared.

"Of course he is" Mariah stated.

"He probably found a turkey" Camille deadpanned pouring herself another glass.

Mariah opened her mouth, a retort on the tip of her tongue before being interupred by the doorbell ringing. Camille stopped trying not to drop her glass on the floor.

"You were saying?" Mariah inquired with a smirk on her face. "Go and get the door" she commanded.

"Can't Danny go?" Camille asked.

"No, he is with his parents now go!" She dismissed with a wave.

The doorbell rang again making Camille swallow down the bile in her throat. She took a deep breath as she walked towards the door, she could see the outline of Billy and a much shorter girl through the glass door pane. She huffed before reaching out for the door knob, her palms sweaty as she opened the door.

Her breath hitched as she took in the sight before her. Billy stood before her, in a blue button down shirt a button undone showing a slither of his tanned skin, his pendant resting against his sturdy chest. Her eyes fluttered away to the young red head beside him who was messing with the green dress she was in, clearly not a fan of the garment.

"Hi" Billy stated, a flirty undertone in his voice.

Camille blushed. "Hey" she squeaked trying to play it cool.

Billy smirked. "Sorry were kind of late, shit bird here didn't want to dress up" he stated nodding towards the girl beside him.

The red head scowled. "Quit calling me that idiot, I'm not thirteen" she spat back at him.

Billy chuckled. "This is my sister Maxine" he introduced.

"Its Max" the girl replied sassily.

"Maxine" Billy warned through gritted teeth.

"Hi, I'm max" the girl stared drinking her hand out.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Camille" Camille replied accepting the handshake. "You guys should come in" she stated opening the door and gesturing for them to come in.

Canille held her breath as Billy brushed past her, stopping short as his eyes romadd her outfit. "Nice outfit" he whispered sending her a wink before walking towards the living room.Camille let out a breath before shutting the door.

She decided to join the otjerd in the living room whilst Mariah came to greet Billy and Max.

"Oh, I swear this young man vets more handsome everytime I see him" Rhona cooed at Billy. "Doesn't he Jeff?" She asked elbowing her husband.

Jeff smiled. "That he does" Jeff agreed with his wife. "Say, son do you have a girl yet?" He asked.

Camilles ears perked slightly as she picked up a biscuits and nibbled away. Accidentally putting herself in the eyeline of him.

"Well, not currently but ya never know" Billy replied taking a sip of his drink, making eye contact with Camille who looked away flushing.

"How come? A handsome guy like you" Rhona gushed.

Billy shrugged. "Ain't found one worth settling down for, plus I've been working alot" he stated. "Things might change" he stated looking pointedly at Camille.

"Aww, let's hope so" Rhona stated missing the looks between the pair.

"Dinner!" Mariah called out. "Camille, would you grab that other bottle of prosecco out the kitchen?" Mariah asked.

Camille nodded making her way to the kitchen, furrowing her brow at the selection of drinks on the counter. "Which one" she murmured to herself.

"I think the one on the right is good" she heard a voice sound out behind her, making her still frozen in place.

Camille turned around to see Billy leaning in the open doorway, his eyes raking her body and a smirk tugging at his lips. "Thought you could use some help" he replied coyly moving into the room and shutting the door behind him.

"Well, if your an expert in champagne then I could use your help" Camille quipped proud of herself for stringing a sentence together.

Billy laughed. "No, but I did get you a present" he stated moving towards her, stopping a few inches away his tall frame towering over her.

Camille's face fell. "Oh shit" she swore. "I didn't get you anything" she stated biting her lip awkwardly.

Billy reached out, smoothing his finger over her lip and freeing it from between her teeth. "Actually it's more of a last minute thing, doesn't cost any money" he replied eyes raking over her face.

Camille furrowed a brow. "What is it?" She asked confused.

"Look up" Billy urged his eyes flitting to the ceiling.Camille looked up noticing the mistletoe that Danny had placed as an excuse to steal kisses from Mariah.

"You got me a kiss?" Camille guessed.

Billy nodded, his thumb reaching out to brush her cheek. "If you want it" he stated. Camille nodded, the words dying on her tongue as he moved closer, their noses brushing.

The door opening had them brushing apart from each other, Billy coming to stand beside her.

"Cam, come on everyone's waiting" Mariah asked brushing through the dior, stopping in her tracks giving her and Billy a suspicious look.

"She needed help with the champagne" Billy stated holding up a bottle.

"Perfect choice" Mariah complimented giving Camille a coy look. Great, she was going to be hounded later. "Come on, I need someone to carve the turkey and Danny has nimble fingers" Mariah stated pointedly looking at Billy.

Billy nodded. "To be continued" he muttered coyly to Camille before making his way past Mariah and out of the kitchen.

"Dont say a word" Camille warned giving Mariah a pointed look, the girl smiling at her. She made her way passed Mariah not giving the girl chance to interrogate her as she went into tjr living area, where a big table had been set up, conveniently she was sat across from Billy.

Dinner went by without a Hitch. Camille felt guilty as she couldn't eat much, not when Billy eyes kept finding hers every five seconds. He hardly turned away when in conversation with someone else, he was like a magnet attracting each other.

She needed to escape his intense blue eyes, volunteering to do the washing up as a form of escape. She signed to herself when she plonked the dirty dishes in the soapy suds.

"Mariah said you needed some help" Billy stated.

"OH, did she?" Camille asked rolling her eyes at her friend's blatant antics.

"Ouch, I can go if you want" Billy stated a teasting lilt in his voice.

"No!" Camille exclained all to quickly. "I mean that would be nice" she finished lamely berating herself. Nice. What kind of stupid word was that?

Billy smirked coming to stand infront of her. "Great" he stated with a smirk. "You know we never got to finish what we started" he stated reaching to brush a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"Oh" camille replied dumbly, leaning into his touch slightly.

"Think we have time?" Billy asked.

Camille nodded. "Uh huh" she replied dumbly her breath hitching when his knuckles brushed her lip, his blue eyes boring into hers.

"BILLY!" a voice called as the door bustled open.

Camille.cleard her throat pushing at his chest as Billy groaned, turning around to face the intruder. "What Max?" He snapped.

The red head narrowed her eyes at his tone. "Wheres the bathroom?" She asked.

Billy grunted. " The fuck are you asking me for?" He swore with a scowl. Camille elbowed him. "I mean why didn't you ask anyone else?" He repeated in a more polite tone.

"I don't know anyone else" Max deadpanned.

"It's upstairs on the right" Camille answered.

Max quirked a smile. "Thanks".she beamed turning on her heel and heading off to her intended destination.

"Damn, we keep getting interrupted" BIlly groaned with a chuckle.

"We better do our duties before we get interrupted again" Camille smiled trying not to hide the dissapointmrnt in her voice.

Billy sighed. "Alright, fine" he stated not sounding to happy.

The pair worked in comfortable silence. Camille washing up and Billy drying meant the chores were done in record time. The pair joined the rest of the party guests, who were chattering animatedly amongst themselves and drinking far to much for their own good.

"I'll be right back, need to use the rest room" Camille stated to Mariah who gave her a small nod.

She used the restroom and was just washing her hands, when a small knock sounded on the door. Curiously, Camille unlocked the door and swung it open, her brow furrowong when Billy stood on the other side.

"Oh, do you need the restroom? It's free" she stated opening the door wider and gesturing to the room behind her.

"As a matter of fact I do" he stated his hands landing on her hips, walking her back into the empty room and kicking the door shut with his foot, locking it for good measure.

"What are you doing?" Camille asked breathless as his hands landed on her hip, grazing the top of her bottom.

"What I've been trying to do all day, ain't risking anyone interrupting us" he stated lifting her up and planting her on the counter, before coming to stand between her open legs.

"Someone might need the bathroom" she proposed with a smirk, looping her hands around his neck.

"Then they can piss themselves" he stated cruedly landing a soft kiss on her exposed neck.

Camille groaned her head titling backwards, exposing more of her vulnerable skin to his sinful lips. "Billy" she murmured.

"Been thinking about that night, haven't slept right since" he confessed.

Camie blinked in shock. "Really? She stuttered as his lips assaulted her neck.

Billy moved away, taking her chin in his hand. "Dont tell me you haven't" he stated.

Camille bit her lip. "Yesh, I have" she confessed. She too hadn't slept since.

Billy chucked before connecting his lips to hers, the familiar fire roared in Camille's belly as she locked her legs around his thighs whilst threading her fingers through his locks. Tongued meeting each others in a passionate kiss.

A knock on the door interrupted them, the pair tearing apart panting and breathless.

"Fuck sake" Billy swore under his breath

"Camille, are you okay dear?" Rhona called out.

"Shit, hide!" Camille whispered shoving Billy toward the closed shower curtain.

"Bloody hell" Billy swore as he clambered clumsily into the tub.

"Are you okay? What's that noise?" Rhona called.

"Nothing! I'm looking got some spray" Camille stated spraying some fragrance before opening the door.

"OH, thank goodness I need to use the restroom" rhona stated.

Canille panicked looking over her shoulder. "No!" She exclaimed meeting the shocked face of Rhona. "I mean, I would give it five I had an upset stomach" she stated embarrassment flowing through her. Jesus how was she meant to look at Rhoma again.

She heard Billy let out a scoff, coughing to cover up the noise.

"OH dear, I think Mariahs dinner does that to you" RHona stated. "I'll take your advice" she stated before going down the stairs.

Camille arched her disappear before opening tur shower curtain. "Dont say a word" she warned looking at the grinning face of Billy.

"Keeping these lips sealed" he finished with a wink before clambering out. "Was close" he muttered giving her a surpirsing peck on the lips.

"We better go" Camille suggested. "I'll go first" she bargained giving gim a pat on the shoulder, before turning on her heel and walking back downstairs. Billy followed about ten minutes after, Mariah giving the pair a knowing look discreet to the rest of the party.

Soon enough ten pm rolled around, most of the adults were asleep on their chairs. Mariah and Danny were watching Die hard on the sofa, Mariah sniffling a yawn whilst Maxs eyes started to droop.

"Eugh, I'm beat" Mariah grumbled.

Danny landed a kiss on her shoulder. "Not surprised babe, you've been awake since six" he stated.

Billy cleared his throat, the pin wheel from the cracker that he had been messing with long forgotten. "I think we should head off" he declared nudging Max who opened her eyes with a start.

Camille gave him a soft smile when their eyes connected.

Mariah nodded following with a yawn, before her eyed widened. "Oh shoot" she stated sitting up and facing Camille witu a sheepish look. "We kinda gave your room to.my parents" she stated.

"Oh" Camille replied panic settling in her stomach.

"I'm sorry hon, we didn't think you would be here when you agreed to stay, so we agreed to give your room to my parents and Dannys are sleeping on the pull out" she admitted.."but I can book them a hotel" she rushed.

"No way! They shouldn't give up their plans just because mine were ruined, I can just sleep on the floor. I'd get try and get a hotel but I bet they are fully booked" Camille stated. "Plus, I kinda spent my money on the plane ticket" she admitted.

"I got a spare bed" Billy piped up. Camille noted his hesitancy, noting how Max had gave him a not so discreet elbow to his ribs.

"OH, no it'd okay I couldn't intrude" Camille dismissed, her cheeks blushing at thought of what happened last time she was in his bed.

"S'okay, you can't sleep on a floor" he stared witj a shrug. "You can have my room.and ill have the couch" he bargained.

Camille chewed her lip, thinking over her options. Risk a repeat of last time or risk a bad back from.sleepint on a floor, either option wasn't the best and she couldn't brig herself to toss Mariahs middle age parents out of their own daughters house.

"But what about your back?" She asked.

Billy grinned. "My backs pretty sturdy" he stated, a hidden meaning in his words making Camille flush.

"I mean, if your sure" Camille replied hesitantly looking st her nails.

"Positive" Billy quipped. "Max has my other room or else I'd offer you that" he stared.

"I feel so awful now hun" Mariah chimed in.

"Honestly don't, I jnserstand i mean I was supposed to be gone by Christmas Eve and I don't want your parents giving up their comfort" she stated. "I'll be fine" camille reassured her noting thr guilty look on mariajs face.

"Just call if you need anything, we can come get you in the morning" she stated.

"I gotta take Max back so don't mind dropping Camille off" Billy shrugged.

"I couldn't ask you to do that".Camille stated feeling like a burden, just like her mother always said she was. She shook thst memory away, she didn't want to think about it and end up crying.

"It's fine honestly" Billy stated, his eyes piercing hers with a reassuring look as if he noted her change in mood.

"Okay, just give me five and I'll get some stuff" she rushed noting Billy giving her a nod before sje went up thr stairs. She grabbed her holdall putting in some bed shorts and tank top witu some clothes for tomorrow, face wash make up and her toothbrush. She did not want to risk having morning breath. She zipped up the bag before padding down the stairs.

Mariaj was waiting at the end of the stairs, a guilty look on her face. "I feel like the worst friend ever" sje confessed reaching out to hug her.

"I'll be fine, its not like your sending me off to war" Camille snorted.

"You ready?" She heard Billy call noting him standing by the door.

Camille nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow" she smiled at Mariah who gave her a nod. She gave Danny a quick hug. "Tell your parents I said bye, I don't want to wake them" she stated to the pair.

Billy made his way to Danny, doing a weird handshake thar Camille couldn't understand before saying his thanks and goodbyes to both Danny and Mariah. They exited the house and into tjr famialr Camaro that was parked by the curb. This was going to be an interesting night.

....................................................................

Camille felt her eyes droop slightly as the low rumble of the Camaro was brought to life the car travelling at a relatively slower speed than usual. Max had feel asleep, ber mouth hanging open and soft snores exiting from her as soon as she got in the car.

Bully turned down the radio, looking over at her tired form. The pair falling into a comfortable silence during the short trip back to hid apartment. CAmille felt like she had only just closed her eyes, before she felt the car jerk to a stop causing her to snap them open.

"Were here" Billy stated putting the car in park and craning his head to the back seat. "Wake up shitbird" he grunted reaching over to give Max a nudge.

Max awoke with a start. "Ugh, where am I?" She grumbled tiredly wiping her eyes.

"At my apartment, wipe the drool off your chin it's disgusting" BIlly reprimanded her.

Max graced him with a middle finger making Camille stifle her giggle. "Like you don't drool" she muttered.

Billy grinned. "Dont know, why dont you ask Camille?" He quirked with a smirk.

Camille gauped.."Billy!" She screeched.

Max wrinkled her nose. "Not you too, please don't say you slept with my idiotic brother" she groaned.

Camille gave her a sheepish look, biting her lip as she met Maxs eyes.

Max groaned. "I better not here any gross noises tonight" she stated giving Billy's seat a kick.

"You won't!" Camille rushed out, a pink dust settling on her cheeks.

"How can you be so sure?" Billy grinned, clearly loving riling her up.

Camille glowered. "Because I meant what I said" she stated as Billy rolled his eyes muttering a small.sure under his breath, before getting out of the drivers side and letting Max out.

Camille followed suit shutting the door with a soft click, Billy shut his and locked the car. The trio entering the dimly lit apartment.

"I'm going to bed, night both" Max stated stifling a yawn.

"Night" they replied in unison watching as the red head made her way to her room, situated on the left side of the apartment.

"Am I okay to use the bathroom?" Camille asked.

"Sure, I'll put your bag in my room" Billy replied plucking the bag from her fingers.

Camille nodded in thanks, being super to take her toothbrush and wipes out before heading to the bathroom. She stripped her make up off not wanting spots to form on her clear skin, before making work of brushing her teeth. She needed her comfy pyjamas on and then she was ready for bed, she thougjt before switching off rhe light in tje bathroom and opening the door.

She stopped in her tracks noting Billy's muscular bare back in her eyeline, he was setting up an arrangement of pillows and blankets on the living room couch. A pair of tight grey sweatpants hanging lowly on his hips, she could almost picture the V line dip thst led to his forbidden area. Her mouth watering as she pictured what was underneath.

"Oh, hi" Billy grinned turning to face her.

Camille willed herself to move. "Hi" she replied coming to stand intrornt on him. "Setting up camp?" She asked her eyes fixed to his face, trying not to let them wonder.

"Something like that" he stated placing a blanket down.

"I can sleep on the sofa" Camille offered.

Billy shook his head, a grin worming irs way onto his face.."Wouldn't want to put your back out" he finished with a wink.

Camille blushed, her eyes widening at his insinuation. "Well thanks for letting me stay, I think I'm going to head to bed it's been a long day" she stared.

Bully nodded. "Night" he muttered.

"Night" Camille replied, before shuffling past him and into the safety of his bedroom, shutting tje door and leaning against it. "No more dirty thoughts" she muttered chastising herself before slinking away from tje wood and peeling the comforter back. She got into the comfortable bed, her senses on overload as sje basked in the scent of Billy her eyes drooping as she turned out the light.

The clock in the quiet room ticked by. Camille jsd been tossing and turning for the last hour, but no matter what position sje lay in sje couldn't het comfy. She had gone out like a light at ten thirty, but then she had a heat filled dream which left her to wake up with a damp patch in her knickers. Now she felt sexually frustrated and wide awake.

She turned to look at the alarm clock on the chest of draws, groaning to herself as she saw the digits of one and two zeros looking back at her. One in the freaking morning, what a drag she thought before deciding to get a drink. Maybe thar could calm her nerves she thought before throwing the comforter back and getting out of bed.

She opened the door, holding back a shocked gasp when Billy stood on the other side.

"Shit" she hissed her hand flying to jer chest. "You scared me" she gasped.

"Sorry, couldn't sleep" Billy shrugged. "What aboit you?" He asked.

"Same" Camille replied. "Thought a hot drink may help, how come your awake?" She asked curiously.

"I'm horny" he replied playfully, a glint in his eye.

Camille nearly chocked in her own spit. "What?" She asked.

"Im horny" Billy repeated, putting his hands on her hip. "And I guess from the way you were looking at me earlier that you are too" he whispered his breath hitting the shell of her ear.

"I-" she started letting out a small gasp when his hands moved to the curve of her ass, pulling her against him. Her breasts pushed against his bare chest, a thin amount of cotton keeping them from meeting.

"Are you?" He goaded.

Canille nodded. "Yes" she stated.

Billy sigjed, clicking his tongue. "Shame, we can't do anything about it" he stated.

"Why?" Camille asked playing into his games.

Billy tusked. "Max might hear us, plus I'll fall asleep after and max will be up at Six if she catches me not on the sofa I won't here the end of it" he replied replied a shrug.

Camille looked up at him from under her lashes, reaching up.to play the the pendant resting on his broad chest. "How about I keep quiet?" She bargained.

Billy locked his lips. "You could, but that doesn't fix tomorrow's issue" he stated.

"Set an alarm, be up before she does" Camille suggested, a low moaneavung her lips when she felt his erection brush against her bare leg.

Billy reached down to squeeze her ass. "Thats a delicious sound, baby" he rumbmed surppressing his own groan. "You suggesting we be bad?" He asked.

Canille nodded. "Maybe" she replied biting her lip.

Billy reached his hands under her sleep shorts, squeezing her bare ass cheeks before landing a light slap on the, causing her to gasp. "I always liked being bad" he whispered before crashed his lips into hers. He picked her up, wrapping her legs around him before walking her through the open bedroom door and shutting it with his foot.

He set her down on thr chest of draws. "Cant do it on the bed it squeaks" he muttered peppering kisses into her exposed neck, before pausing yo take her tank top off. Pausing to stared at her clothes breasts. "Fuck me, we really gotta keep quiet" he stated staring at her tits before unhooking her bra, licking his lips when her breasts spilled out.

Camille held back a groan as his tongue found her nipples, suckling in the erect buds like a man starved. "Oh shi-"she started to groan but was muffled by his hand covering her mouth.

"Were gonna find it hard if you make noise, sweetheart" Billy stated. "You gonna be my good girl and keep quiet for me?" He asked.

Camille felt the wetness pool between her legs at the name. "Yes" she whispered when he moved his hand from her mouth.

Billy tapled her instructed her to loft her ass up, she obliged willingly as he took of jer shorte and wormed her knickers down her legs. Camille reached forward to dip her hands under his sweatpants, arousal at the fact he was naked underneath them as she grabbed onto his erect penis.

"Fuck, baby" Billy whispered lowly throwing his head back as she fisted his cock in jer warm hand, sliding it up and down his shaft. "Carry on and I'm gonna combust" BIlly grunted grabbing jer hand and moving ot away, he shimmed off his sweatpants his cock springing against his abs making Camilles mouth water at the sight of it. He reached to open jer legs, loxkonf his lips at her arousal. "My turn" he smirked before dipping his head towards her core.

"OH, fuck" Camille swore lowly as his tongue worked around her bud, her hands fitting in his blonde curls and hips bucking. "Shit, Billy" she groaned lowly feeling her coil about to snap.

Billy pulled away eating her to whine at rhe loss of her oegasm, he grabbed onto her hips with one hand whilst lining up his cock at her wet entrance. "Ready?" He asked.

"Fuck yes" CAmille panted biting jer head to keep her from moaning loudly, when he entered her.

Billy pressed his head into her shoulder, muffling the sound of his moans as he bottomed out. He began to move at a slow and agonising pace making Camille annoyed snd impatient.

"Faster please" she commanded.

"This is gonna hit off the fucking wall" he stated trying to increase his speed. "Gotta be careful angel" he stated.

Camille hit his shoulder. "Hold on, just remove yourself" she commanded.

Bully furrowed his brow. "What?" He asked.

"Remove yourself" she commanded hitting his shoulder again. Billy grunted before obliging as Camille got off rhe dressed, turning around so her elbows were leaning on it and her bare ass was facing him.

"Oh, you kinky girl" BIlly crooned slapping ner ass causing her to jolt forward, before softly entering her again. He gripped jer hips and bucked himself into her, causing her stiffle a moan into her arms. "You like that?" He grunted.

"Yes" CAmille whispered trying to surppress her moan.

"You gotta be quiet" BIlly stated reach to cover her mouth as he rutted his hips into her at a forceful speed.

"I'm close" Camille cried muffled by his Jane.

"Same" Billy grunted bucking his hips again.. "ahh fuck" he whispered as he spilt white hot cum.inside of her, at the same time Camille came.

Billy slowly removed himself leaving Camille to whine at the loss of him, he reached dout to give her breast a squeeze as she straightened herself up and turned to face him.

"I'll set that alsrm" he stated giving her a coy grin.

Camille grinned as she climbed back into bed, sleep hitting her quickly as she felt a pair of arms around her and some lips on her head. She was blissed and fucked out.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #billy stranger things #billy x fem reader #billy x reader #billy hargrove x reader

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