#this post brought to you by this evening's realization of

[everlastingserenitys]

SMILE FOR THE PICTURE <3

summ. you asked the best photographer in your school to help take pictures of you for your project, not take a video of you guys doing it!

pairing. Caleb x f!reader cw. nerd!caleb, p in v, fingering, masturbation, recording during sex, creampie, dirty thoughts, kissing, handjob, college au, petnames, dirty talk, kitchen sex, 3.7k wc (wtf omg) a/n. hello yes this is kiindaa based off this post ... I just added a tiny switch up hehe

“Is that all you need help with?” Caleb asked, his eyes darting around the library and back at you.

“Please Caleb?”

A tired sigh escaped his lips, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head in disbelief, “So what you’re saying is that you want me to take pictures of you for your project?”

You nod.

“I don’t believe it, why do you need me?”

An annoyed sigh escaped your lips and you leaned in closer, being just centimeters away from his face.

“I heard you’re the best photographer and editor, so I need someone to help me so I can pass the class… so, please, just help me this one time?”

Caleb lightly rolled his eyes and stared at you before agreeing, “fine I’ll do it—but I’ll need something in return.”

“I’ll give you anything, Alright? I’ll email you some of my photos and then we can move on from there.” You say, sliding over a scrap piece of paper with your email displayed on it and walked off.

You didn’t even let him speak the second you skipped away from him and headed over to your little friends, giggling and loudly walking yourself out the library, practically announcing to everyone that you’re leaving.

Caleb glared at your figure already leaving the library and sighed against his seat, at least he’ll have something to do for the night.

As the day progressed Caleb was already in his dorm, studying for his other subjects. It was late in the evening and he had totally forgotten about the little deal you made with him, until he heard a crackle sound beneath him.

An exasperated sigh left his lips and he reached in his pocket for the tiny piece of paper with your email on it, he rested it in front of him as his fingers instinctively started typing away on his laptop.

Without realizing or reading over what he had written, the email had already been sent to you. Caleb panicked and tried to find out how to edit, or even delete to send it again, but when nothing was popping up he closed his laptop and attempted to distract himself before you responded.

A few minutes passed and a ding blared through Caleb's laptop. A shaky sigh escaped his lips before he carefully opened up his laptop and checked his emails. He refreshed countless times until, finally your response loaded up.

Caleb read the reply out loud and hovered his cursor over the pdf files of multiple photos you sent, “‘hey these are the photos’, yada yada…mmh alright.” After a second of hesitating he finally brought the courage to click on the photos.

And they were…beautiful.

Caleb was starstruck. He scrolled through the five photos you sent and inspected every single one, eyeing every perfect curve, your pretty eyes, practically just admiring you.

He never really talked to you, mainly because he thought you wouldn't talk to him if he tried talking to you first, but when you stepped up and spoke to him first, Caleb felt like it had to be a prank. Whether it was for the project or not, he didn't mind it, in fact, he’d probably want to work with you again, if he could.

He exited out of the pictures, getting ready to write his reply when he noticed you sent something else. Only captioning the file with ‘and a little surprise for you <3 you look like you’d be into this so i hope this gives you a little motivation !!’

Curious, Caleb clicked on the file without thinking and immediately regretted it. Well, was it regret? Definitely not. Caleb’s perverted eyes scanned at every part of the scandalous photo you sent. He brought his shaky hands to his mouse and instinctively started zooming in on every part.

“Damn it.” he murmured, squirming around his chair as he tried to hold himself back from touching himself, even though the last time he actually masturbated to someone was years before his third year in college, he didn't want to just break the streak when he knows damn well you will leave him once this project was over.

But one time wouldn't hurt, right? I mean, he was practically aching down there.

Caleb brought his fingers to the waistband of his shorts and played with it as he imagined different dirty scenarios with you. He eventually slid his fingers under his shorts, grabbing onto his hard, searing length, wrapping his cold fingers around it. He pumped his fist in a quick motion, staring at your picture through his already teary eyes, captivating every pixel he could see through his blurry vision.

“Ah-shit..” he whined, bucking his hips forward and soon brought his other hand to his cock, pretending it was yours. That thought just turned him on even more and he was practically trying everything to hold himself back from coming too early.

He glanced back at the picture, his glasses were slightly slipping off his nose but he didnt care. He yanked his head back, his pace going even quicker on himself and he was so, soo, clo–

“Fuck..”

Spurs of white pellucid mixture dripped out of Caleb, most of it getting on his desk and papers all over the desk. He breathed heavily as his violet eyes stared into in the ceiling, rethinking his fucking choices.

A few minutes passed and Caleb took a cold shower and eventually cleaned up himself, and the desk. He sat back on desk, reopening his laptop and quickly went to reply to your email. God, he was worried how he was going to face you the next day.

His fingers hovered over the light keys illuminating through his laptop, a response was stuck somewhere in the back of his head but he couldn't bring it back to him. He pondered for a moment, his mind spiraling with many, many thoughts, none of them were recollecting what he was going to say.

Caleb let out an annoyed groan and hit his head on his desk repeatedly. He’ll just respond tomorrow, when his mind was cleared out.

The next day after his classes were over, Caleb headed to the library to study for a bit. He put his ear buds in and started reading his book. But as he was too distracted by the gibberish of numbers and letters that somehow keeps him captivated the whole time he's studying, he didn't notice a presence in front of him.

A minute passed, and he still didn't notice. That was until someone yanked his earbuds off which caused Caleb to flinch dramatically. He looked up to see who disturbed his peace, about to stand up for himself until he realized it was you.

“What..”

“Why’d you not respond last night?”

Caleb's face flushed in a light pink tone, but he remained calm, a small smirk rested on his lips as he was trying to think of an excuse on the spot. He couldn't just tell you that he got off at the seductive picture you totally sent to rile him up with.

“I was too tired too, sorry. But I saw everything you sent.”

“You did?” you grin, leaning in closer as you stared into his eyes.

“Mhm, everything.”

“Did you like the surprise picture?” you said, a hint of teasing laced in your voice as you watched for Caleb's reaction. He was trying to act tough so badly, but you noticed how difficult it was for him to keep up the tough act and that just made you want to push his limits even further.

“Caleb?” you whisper.

Caleb’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down the second you whispered his name and he avoided your gaze, “..yeah.” he mumbled, his voice dropping five octaves deeper. You smile and pull away from him, looking down at him before shrugging.

“If you read the email–which I doubt you did–I told you to come over to my place tonight to take some practice pictures.”

“Practice? Wait, when did you even say that?” Caleb frantically started typing on his computer and pulled out the email. Embarrassment washed through his whole face when he read the first email which he totally ignored.

“I see…”

“Uh huh, the pictures I sent you last night were for reference, you know? How you’re going to take them and etcetera.” you fan your hands at him and Caleb stared at you for a good minute before nodding and closing his laptop, notebook, everything lying on the desk.

“Why’re you packing up right now?”

“Well? Why don’t we start early? I have studying to do and I don't want to spend the whole night taking pictures of you.”

You open your mouth, hesitant to say something but when no words could get out, you zipped your lips shut and turned around, walking yourself out of the library. You took small glances to see if Caleb was actually following you, when you noticed he was just a few meters away, you nodded to yourself and continued to walk to your place.

A ten minute walk later both you and Caleb end up at the front door of your apartment. You grab the keys from your purse and turn around, looking at Caleb while the key is shoved deep in the keyhole.

“Wait here, and do you have your camera?”

Caleb nods and rests his shoulder against the wall next to him. You nod and head inside your place. Caleb assumed you were cleaning it up so he leaned back and patiently waited as the sounds of shuffling and stuff moving around were getting louder and louder by the second.

A few minutes pass and you open the door letting Caleb in. Caleb looked around your whole place, his eyes darting on every piece of furniture that was definitely your style, and soon averting his gaze to the large window that showed off the view from outside.

It was already close to sunset and the lightning looked amazing to take pictures with. Caleb brought out his camera and tried turning it on when his worst nightmare happened.

“Dead?”

“Dead.”

A minute of silence echoed through the room, you and Caleb looked at each other before awkwardly chuckling at each other.

“I have a charger, be right back.” you say.

Caleb nodded and sat against your kitchen counter, fidgeting the camera around his fingers before you came back and slid the charger to him. He nodded in appreciation and quickly went to put his camera to charge.

“What should we do now?” Caleb asked, glancing at you then back at his camera.

You ponder for a moment then an idea lights up in your head, “Come, i’ll show you more of my photos so you can get an idea on what to do.” you unwillingly grab onto Caleb's wrist and drag him to your bedroom.

Which looked fairly normal, a little basic. Just a desk consisting of two monitors lying on it, a bookshelf, and your bed. You drag Caleb to your desk and you plop on the chair, unlocking your monitor in a quick movement and pulling out your camera roll.

“Some pictures may be weird so don't mind it, okay?”

Caleb nodded and glued his eyes to your monitor.

As the time went on and you were showing dozens upon dozens of photos to him, that's when your camera roll started to look a little too explicit and Caleb swore you were doing it on purpose.

“Oh whoops!” you giggle, letting Caleb quickly look at the explicit pictures of you, and at this point he wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t going to show that he liked it, but something else was about to shatter him from this nonchalant persona.

He watched you scroll through the pictures as his bottom half felt numb. Caleb looked at the bottom of the camera roll and noticed you were almost at the end of it, just a few more pictures to go and he could go to the bathroom to fix the problem down there.

When you finally showed the last picture Caleb nodded and enthusiastically told you how he knew exactly what he was doing and started backing away from your desk. You raise an eyebrow and get up from your seat walking behind him.

“Where's the bathroom?” Caleb asked, looking left and right at the two different hallways that could lead to anywhere. You peered your head up and brushed past him, but mistakenly stumbled over his shoelace and grabbed onto his thigh to catch yourself.

“Cal–uh..”

Your eyes widened and you looked up at Caleb's flushed look and down to your hand which was not on his thigh.

“Don’t move, please…” he mumbled, covering half his face with his hand as he carefully stepped back, but he was too much in a haze to even focus. He tripped on himself and stumbled against you again, making your hand practically rub on his boner.

“Shit…”

“You said you wanted something in return, why don’t I give you the favor right now and then you could take my pictures, how’s that?” you say, looking up at caleb who was still flushed bright red at the situation happening at the moment.

“I- fine..” he nodded and you smiled, sliding your fingers under his pants, slowly pulling them down and stare at his leaking bulge imprinting his boxers. Eventually, you pull his boxers down and let his cock spring out and, Fuck.

You wrap your fingers around his length and pump your fist in a slow, rhythmic movement, letting Caleb savour the time. Loud whines filled the room and you continued the same pace as you watched his reaction.

“Mo–ngh”

“Hmm?”

“More..” he breathed, Caleb's fingers slid in your hair and he pulled your head up so you could look at him. “Please.”

You smirk and fasten the pace on him, after one hand starts getting tired, you bring your other one and do the same movements to his cock. Both your hands were on his hard, sticky length. With one hand circling around the tip and the other pumping his full length Caleb was practically moaning like a virgin.

You slick your thumb on his tip and leaned in closer, about to make your mouth get put to use but Caleb stopped you and shook his head, “not yet..,‘m close” he groaned, his voice echoed through the room which sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re close? Then why don’t you hold it in.” you challenge, pulling your hands away from his cock and staring up at caleb who looked like he was going to die without the feeling of your hands on his.

“Hold it in, can you do that?” you whisper, getting up from your knees and leaned in closer, your hot breath ghosted against Caleb's skin. But Caleb couldnt even spit out any words, his eyes flicker on yours and before you could tease him further he crashed his lips on yours.

Caught off guard, you reciprocate the kiss and push him further against the wall, grabbing onto the sides of his face as you push yourself closer against him. Your bodies were practically molded together and Caleb lightly bit on your lip when he felt you grinding yourself against him.

His fingers made their way to your waist and soon snaked down to your pants, toying with the edges of it before pulling them down. His fingers slid lower on your body and soon reached your soaking, dripping cunt.

He slid a finger inside you and stroked a slow, deliberate pattern, stimulating and stretching you out before he put his cock inside you. He was holding himself back so bad but he lets the last drops of self control drip down him before he rams his cock inside you.

“Let me…” Caleb whispered, pulling his fingers out of you and stared at the mess coated on his fingers. You grunt and press yourself against him, he takes it as an indication that he can put himself inside you and without thinking he does it right away.

“urgh w-wait–” before you could tell Caleb to go to your bed or another room he lifted you up and pressed his tip against your soaking entrance, slowly pushing himself inside. He wasn't even a quarter in and you felt like you were full, you cling onto him as he lifts your body up and down on his cock.

“K-kitchen” you moan, burying your head on his shoulder. Caleb nods and effortlessly walks towards the kitchen with half his length inside you. You felt him press you against the counter and slightly pull himself away so he could see your face.

Caleb stared at you with love and lust filled in his eyes, his glasses were barely on him, his eyes were teary, and fuck he still looked like a beauty. You yanked your head back when you felt him sink deeper inside you, his tip practically hitting every right spot, and you felt like you were in heaven.

You wink your eyes open and get used to your surroundings again and notice the camera was still charging next to you. Caleb watched your every move as you picked up the camera and flicked it on. It beeped for a moment and flashed unlocked.

When the camera was on you smiled and glanced at Caleb who was too much in a daze to know what you were doing and angle the camera directly at his beautiful face. You coo his name and he averted his gaze to the camera that was in your hands.

“Smile.” you manage to get out and notice Caleb smirk before you flash a picture. Your eyes widened as you clicked the picture and he looked heavenly. Caleb chuckled as he continued to ram himself in and out of you, using one of his hands to grab the camera.

“Let me see.” he murmured, resting his fingers on yours which were still on the camera. You carefully gave him the camera and he examined the photo, a menacing chuckle escaped his lips and he shook his head, “don’t I look great?” he chuckled.

“Mhm”

“Yeah?”

You nod again and Caleb angled the camera to you, his hands, which were once shaky weren't shaky anymore and he looked at you before looking back into the camera screen.

“Smile for the picture.”

Before you could let out a smile you felt Caleb shove his full length deep, deep inside you. A wave of shock went through you and you heard the camera shutter when you noticed he took a picture of an expression you made that was most definitely not a smile.

“That’s a good–mmph e-expression! Shit, do it again.” he whined, continuing to ram himself deep inside you, the impact of his hard tip abusing your cervix sent you to a spiral, you stared at Caleb through teary eyes and shook your head.

“Come on, baby.” he begged, still having the camera aimed at you. A loud moan escapes your lips and you roll your hips against Caleb’s. Caleb let loud a low whistle and lowered the camera to the view of his cock buried balls deep inside you.

“Look at t-that..” he chuckled, slowing the pace down. He was already close to release and he didn't want to pull away. Caleb kept the camera at the same angle it was at before and brought his other hand to your stretched out cunt, placing his thumb against the clit as he stretched it out and watched the mess pool out of you.

“You’re recording? A-and you-?!” you couldn't even get any more words out. Caleb nodded and apologized repeatedly.

“I'm sorry.. It was on a-accident” he coughed, shaking the camera around as he slowly started pulling himself out of you. The sounds of the slick seeping out of you filled the room and it just turned Caleb on even more, when he was just almost the tip out of you, Caleb angled the camera from your lower half to your face and thrusted himself back into you.

His pace was quick and his moans grew louder at every thrust he gave. Caleb was practically over the moon and the feeling was just something he wished to experience again. Caleb placed the camera down on the counter and aimed it where you both were in frame.

“Can you handle one more–y-yes? Or no?” he asked, leaning in closer to your face, his breath tickling on your warm skin, you nod and Caleb chuckled, lifting your legs over his shoulders and thrusted himself one more time.

“That's good, might as well go until the camera dies again, should we, baby?”

You didn't know how many rounds you both did, you were almost going to pass out midway through sex but Caleb somehow calmed you down and you stayed awake, didn’t pass out once no matter how many times he filled you up, it was like he was magic.

Both you and Caleb just finished getting cleaned up and you both were back at the kitchen. He held onto his camera as he went through the multiple photos and videos he took, the longest video being about an hour and a half long, which resulted in the camera dying just the second before you were going to cum.

Caleb smirked as he looked through the photos and one photo caught him by surprise, he inspected the photo and flipped the camera towards you. “You look good in this.” he said, as a death piercing gaze was locked on you.

“I’m practically clothless in that, what's so special about it?”

“You can keep it for your album of those types of photos…” he shrugged, turning the camera back towards him and looking at the photo again. You shrug and that's when you realized.

“We haven't taken my practice pictures yet!”

“Well, can you still do it, or should I come back tomorrow?” Caleb grinned, stepping towards you and stared into your eyes with a teasing look.

“Let's get it over with, today.”

Caleb frowned, “Okay one second,” He said, angling the camera at you again.

“Smile.”

part 2 of fly into your heart -> next work

[cinnxmxngxrl]

“Halloween party”

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Masterlist here

Summary: You’re drunk and horny in a college halloween party and you want your dad’s best friend, Joel, to see the little devil costume you’re wearing.

WC: 4,4k

Warnings: smut, minors DNI, unprotected piv, car sex, dirty talk, age gap, oral (m!receiving), fingering, swallowing, creampie, pre outbreak, reader is a little drunk please don’t read if you’re not comfortable with it.

You already knew how much of a terrible idea this had been.

This was not your scene at all. Halloween night for you was meant to be popcorn and horror movies, curled up in bed. But there you were, in a little devil costume that left too little to the imagination, completely wasted, trying to find your friend, only to see her making out with some douchebag in a dark corner of the room.

The music and people’s shouts were loud, and mixed with the amount of alcohol in your blood, they made your head spin. The bass thudded through your chest like a second heartbeat, the room a blur of sweat-slicked bodies, flashing lights, and too much noise.

You were completely left alone, tipsy, having to get drunk guys’ hands off your body as you made your way to the bathroom.

Their breath reeked of liquor and cologne, and the leering eyes made your skin crawl. One guy had grabbed your waist like he owned it—you shoved his hand off, the heat of his fingers lingering in a way that made your stomach churn.

You stumbled into the bathroom around 1:47 AM, phone in hand, drunk and reckless and pulsing with need.

You sat down on the closed toilet lid and opened Facebook on your phone, scrolling down—

Until you saw Joel Miller’s new post.

It was a summer recap photo album: only a few nature pictures and a few innocent ones of him with his daughter, enjoying an evening at the lake. Except for the last one.

The last one was a picture of him shirtless. Not an intentional one, as if he purposely posed half-naked for the picture. No. He just casually appeared in the background, only in his swimsuit.

You almost dropped your phone to the floor when your shaky fingers went to zoom in on the picture.

Your breath caught, lips parting slightly, your heartbeat skipping a beat as you stared at the broad, sun-warmed expanse of his chest, the ripple of muscle beneath tanned skin, the faint salt-and-pepper trail disappearing under the waistband of his trunks.

Jesus fuck, that was one hot man, if you’d ever seen one. You felt the ache that started low in your belly and quickly spread down, straight to your core.

You could feel your cunt palpitating, and the dampness that started to gather in your panties. And that’s exactly what happened every single time you saw Joel Miller.

He’s been your father’s best friend ever since high school. You remember how you’d call him Uncle Joel when you were little. Back then he was safety, warmth, and comfort. The man who carried you on his shoulders at the county fair. The man who taught you how to ride a bike and brought you peppermint sticks every Christmas.

Well, that’s just a little fucked up, having in mind that now you were dying to fuck Uncle Joel.

You didn’t know exactly when it started—when you began to fantasize about Joel. Probably after you realized boys your age weren’t it. And that what you really wanted, really desired, was a grown man.

Not some stupid frat guy who didn’t even know what a clit was, much less where it was or how to touch it right.

No, you wanted a man with experience—experience with women, and experience in life. Someone you could learn from, not someone you had to teach.

A man just like Joel. You watched the zoomed-in photo: his ripped muscles—not from the gym, but from a life of hard physical work, of lifting heavy things and working until the sun went up.He was built from real effort, the kind that made you imagine the weight of his body pressing you into a mattress, his calloused hands gripping your hips with purpose.

You imagined how it would feel to run your hands all over his body, feeling the grey hair on his chest, going down to his stomach, even lower…

Fuck, you were pressing your thighs together so hard, and yet it was not nearly enough to relieve the ache you felt.

Truth is, you’ve been trying to fuck Joel for years now, ever since you were legal. You thought that wearing pretty sundresses and tighter little bikinis each year would help him fall for you.

Because any man would take the chance to fuck a young, pretty thing like you whenever he had the chance. But not Joel. He was so decent, so morally correct, such a good man that it drove you mad.

And it only made you want him more.

The way that he would look away whenever you bent down to pick up something you purposely let fall to the floor, letting him peek at your lacy panties. How he would clear his throat and pull away awkwardly whenever you hugged him and pressed your breasts against his chest, letting him feel all of you.

Because in some twisted way, you didn’t want just any pervy old man with a thing for young chicks. You wanted to corrupt Joel. Make him let loose and show him how good a young girl could make him feel.

The alcohol in your system made you do something stupid. Your fingers scrolled down your contact list until you found Joel.

And you pressed call.

You held the phone to your ear, swaying slightly in your heels, drunk and flushed and soaking wet between your legs.

He picked up on the third ring, voice rough and sleep-wrecked.

“…Darlin’?” Oh god, his voice was so sleepy and sounded even raspier than usual.

You had to suppress a little moan from escaping your mouth as you pressed your thighs together even harder.

“Hi, Joel,” you said.

There was a beat of silence, he could hear the loud music and conversations in the background.

“Where the hell you at? You alright?”

“At a party,” you said, dragging the words out. “M’fine. Just thinking about you.”

“Thinkin’ bout me?” he muttered. You could hear the sheets rustling, the weight of his body shifting. “It’s the middle’a the goddamn night. You been drinkin’?”

You smiled lazily. “Mhm.”

Joel cursed under his breath. “You need a ride or what?”

“Would you do that for me, Joel?”

Another heavy pause. “Just text me the damn address and I’ll be there in twenty.”

Twenty minutes later, you were sitting on the porch. Legs crossed. Lips glossy. Your little red dress riding dangerously high and your hair slightly messy, with the devil’s horns from your costume.

And your face lit up like Christmas when you saw him pulling up in front of you in his pickup truck.

“There he is,” you purred, stumbling a little as you stood. “My favorite old man.”

You saw the way his eyes flicked down your legs, quickly, before he looked away. Like the sight of you physically pained him.

“Get in,” he said from the driver’s seat.

You practically threw yourself into the passenger seat.

You could sense the way he was looking at you, at the way your nipples were hard under the soft fabric of the low-cut dress, how he could almost see your damp panties when your dress rolled up even more.

And Joel was trying to look away, distract himself with anything, so his now half-hard cock wouldn’t get fully hard.

“A devil, huh?” he said, touching the horns on your head.

“Mhm, tempting you to sin,” you said, giggling.

His jaw clenched. His fingers flexed on the wheel like he was fighting the urge to grab you.

Fuck. He was fully hard now.

He shifted uncomfortably in the seat before starting the engine and driving away.

“Party that bad?” he said, trying to make some conversation and distract himself from all the dirty, nasty thoughts he was having.

“Yeah, my friend ditched me five minutes after we arrived to go hook up with some dickhead.”

“And what about you?” he said, arching his brow. He was sure it wouldn’t be difficult for you to find a guy for yourself—hell, he was sure you’d be able to get any guy in that, or any other party, you wanted.

“I didn’t want to fuck any of those boys,” you said bluntly. “They all look like babies.”

He didn’t say anything right away—only groaned.

“Jesus, don’t say shit like that.” His voice dropped lower. Strained. Like he was battling himself with every word.

“Why not? It’s the truth.” You looked at him, batting your lashes. “Bet you’d take better care of me than any of those assholes.”

“Alright, that’s enough. Quit runnin’ your mouth.” he said under his breath, his heart beating fast. “You’re gonna get me into trouble.”

“Maybe you should put something inside my mouth to gag me.” You giggled, feeling as bold and reckless as ever. Your hand reached to palm him over his jeans—hard as rock and twitching instantly at your touch.

His body got stiff and he hit the brakes quickly, the truck stopping violently in the middle of the road. The force of it jolted you forward in the seat.

“Keep your damn hands to yourself,” he said as he yanked your hand from his bulge, pushing you to your seat with more force than necessary, “Sit back. Buckle up.” he grabbed the seatbelt and fastened it—as if to keep you from moving.

His breathing was ragged, nostrils flaring, and you could see the storm raging behind his eyes. Desire battling with guilt, morality against hunger.

He wouldn’t even look at you now. His breathing was labored, jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle twitching.

He took one long breath and began to drive again, desperate to get to your house and leave you there, just so he could go home and take care of the big problem between his legs.

“Why should I keep them to myself? You’re hard, and I’m sure I can help you with that.”

You unfastened the seatbelt and knelt on the seat, your upper body pressed down, laying your head on his big thigh.

“Can I suck your cock in the truck?” you looked up at him.

“Enough.” His voice was strangled. His knuckles white around the wheel. “You’re drunk. You don’t mean none of that.”

“I might be drunk now, but I’m not when I touch myself thinking of you every single night.”

“You think this is funny?” he snapped. “Playin’ games like that? You’re a goddamn kid.”

“Oh come off it, Joel. I’m barely ten years younger than you, that’s practically nothing.”

“It’s over ten years,” he corrected you. “You call me drunk in the middle of the goddamn night, talkin’ like a fuckin’ pornstar, lettin’ me look at you dressed like that—”

His hand slapped the steering wheel. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I should take you straight home and tell your daddy what you been up to.”

“Be sure your boner is gone when you talk to my dad,” you teased him. “I don’t think he’d appreciate knowing how fuckin’ hard you get over his daughter.”

You chuckled at the way he was looking at you—anger in his eyes but lust behind them.

“I think you’re pissed off all the time ‘cause you wanna fuck me and you can’t.” you continued to tease him.

His jaw twitched. You were getting to him. Finally.

“I ain’t sayin’ it again,” he hissed, his voice shaking. “You don’t get it, do you? This ain’t no joke. This is serious. You’re my best friend’s daughter. You’re practically a kid—I was there the day you were born, for god’s sake, I held you when you were a baby. You’re—fuck, you’re not s’posed to look at me like that.”

“And now I’m a woman. One you wanna fuck. And one that’s desperately begging you to do it. So own it. Be a man and fuck me, Joel.”

He was breathing hard, looking at you like he didn’t know whether to throttle you or kiss you. Like the war inside him had reached its peak, fists clenched and jaw tight, every nerve screaming.

He stopped the truck in the middle of some deserted road and he surged forward, grabbing your face with both hands, and kissed you like he hated himself for it. Like he was drowning in it. His mouth crushed against yours, tongue pushing past your lips, tasting the alcohol on your breath.

His hand fisted in your hair, the other cupping your jaw like he needed to hold you in place, or else he’d break apart.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he muttered against your mouth, hand sliding up your bare thigh. “Knew you’d be nothing but trouble. Knew I should’ve stayed the hell away.”

His hand made its way between your thighs and reached the edge of your panties. He felt the heat. The slick.

His breath hitched the moment he touched you, a low growl vibrating in his chest like a warning.

He growled. “Jesus, you’re soaked.” There was awe in his tone, disbelief, like you’d shattered something inside him just by wanting him this much.

“I saw the picture at the lake you posted and got like this,” you said. “What? You’ve never seen a girl this wet, Joel?”

He groaned like it physically hurt him, resting his forehead against yours for a second, breathing hard.

“I’m gonna take you home,” he muttered, voice rough. “Gonna put you in your bed, and then I’m gonna go jerk off in my truck like a fuckin’ lunatic.”

“No, you’re not. I need you too much, Joel,” you whispered, reaching for his belt. “Please, pretty please, Joel. I want it like you have no idea.”

He didn’t stop you when you undid the buckle. Didn’t stop you either when you reached into his jeans and wrapped your hand around him. His stomach flinched under your touch, a broken gasp escaping him, his whole body going tense like your fingers had struck a nerve.

His eyes fluttered shut. A soft, filthy growl escaped his throat.

“I swear to God,” he rasped, “if you don’t stop right now, I’m gonna fuck you in this truck.”

“Please do.” Your hand was still wrapped around him, thick and pulsing in your grip, and Joel hadn’t moved a muscle to stop you. His cock twitched in your hand like it agreed with you more than he dared to.

You pulled his cock out of the confinement of his jeans, and you almost whimpered when you saw it.

It was big, to say the least—you’ve never seen one quite that size in person. Only in the adult videos your friend had insisted you watch with her just for giggles.

“Oh my God, Joel,” you breathed out as you took in the sight of him—it looked obscene in the best way, thick and flushed and so hard it looked like it hurt, veins pulsing, wet pre-cum leaking from his tip. “It’s so big.”

“Called me up practically beggin’ for cock with your voice all slow and filthy like that. Now take care of it—it’s what you wanted, right?”

You let your mouth brush the head of his cock. A soft kiss. He twitched again, his hand clenching in the seat beside him, like he was trying to keep control.

“Come on, baby, show me how much you wanted me.”

You took him in your mouth. Warm. Wet. Slow at first—just the head, swirling your tongue around it, tracing that sensitive spot just beneath the ridge. He gasped, eyes rolling back, one hand flying to your hair.

“Shit… baby… killin’ me here,” he moaned. “That mouth—Jesus, such a talented mouth.” His words came out in pieces, half-groaned, half-worshipped.

You moaned around him, taking more, letting him slide deeper. Your lips stretched, jaw aching already from how big he was, but you didn’t care. You loved the way he filled your mouth, the way his dick twitched on your tongue, the way his whole body went rigid when you swallowed around him.

“Ngghh… Look at you. You look so good with my cock down your throat.”

You blinked up at him, eyes glassy and full of want, spit pooling at the corners of your lips.

You bobbed your head slowly, hand working the base where your mouth couldn’t reach, spit dripping down to your wrist. The messier and wetter, the better it felt for Joel. You wanted him to feel it. Every flick of your tongue. Every tight pull of your throat.

He was so sensitive, thighs were shaking, his voice breaking. “Stop, darlin’…please…gotta stop.” You could hear it in his tone—he didn’t want to stop. He just didn’t want to lose control.

You looked up, lips swollen around his cock, and moaned again.

Joel’s grip tightened in your hair. His hips started to move, tiny thrusts, shallow but desperate. He was fucking your mouth, slow and helpless, trying not to lose it too fast.

“Gonna cum,” he gasped. “Fuck…I’m gonna—shit, baby—”

You sucked harder, hollowing your cheeks. Taking him deeper, even when it made your eyes water. You wanted to ruin him. You needed to.

“You wanna swallow it? Gonna swallow every drop like the good little girl you are?”

You nodded frenetically. And then he came. Hard. A broken shout. His whole body tensed as he spilled down your throat.

Hot and thick ropes of his cum, tasted a little salty but so good just ‘cause it belonged to him. It was so much, but you swallowed every drop, not even flinching.

When you finally pulled off him with a soft pop, Joel was wrecked. Panting. Sweating. Staring down at you like he couldn’t believe what just happened.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, smirking.

“Get in the back,” he muttered under his breath.

You didn’t hesitate. You climbed into the back seat, the leather cold on your thighs, knees already trembling with anticipation. Your tiny dress rode up higher, exposing lace panties soaked through at the center.

Joel followed. He didn’t even shut the front door. Just crawled into the back after you, big and hulking, like something unchained. His hands were on you immediately, yanking the dress up over your hips, gripping your thighs so hard you whimpered.

He pushed your legs open with both hands, groaning at the sight of how wet you were.

“All this for me, huh? At some college party, dressed like a slut, callin’ me up talkin’ filth ‘cause you didn’t want any of those stupid pricks, you wanted me.”

You nodded, lips parted, breath hitched. Shivering at the raw hunger in his voice.

He slapped the inside of your thigh, sharp and hot. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” you gasped. “I wanted you. I want you so bad, Joel.”

He let out a sound like a snarl and pulled your panties to the side. He made a little noise, almost a whimper.

“What is it? When was the last time you’ve seen a cunt this pretty?”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered. “You’re so beautiful, ain’t got the slightest clue.”

Two thick fingers slid right through your slick folds, parting you. He hissed through his teeth. His pupils blown wide, jaw clenched like he was in pain.

He teased you with his fingers, barely dipping into your entrance, just enough to make you shake. Every nerve in your body stood on edge, begging for more.

“J-Joel… please,” your voice breaking.

“You need this cock that bad, huh? Don’t worry, babygirl, I’ve got you. I’m just gonna stretch you out a little first.” He shoved two fingers in, and you choked on a gasp. Thick. Rough. Curling just right. “Gotta make sure you can take it.”

Your back arched off the seat. “Oh—f-fuck—!”

“Yeah, that’s it. You’re so tight and it’s only my fingers, you’re squeezing them like crazy,” he grunted, working you open, watching your face with fire in his eyes, like it was his religion

“Look at you. Bet none of those little college boys know how to make you squirm like this.”

“N-no… ah… t-they can’t,” you gasped, fingers clutching the seat. “They don’t know anything.”

“All them boys in that house, drunk little shits. Could’ve had any of ‘em. But you called me.”

He kissed you again, hard and messy, all teeth and tongue, swallowing your moans like he couldn’t get enough. His fingers never stopped pumping. He curled them just right and you cried out against his mouth.

“This pussy’s a fuckin’ dream,” he muttered. “Come on, baby, cum for me, and then I’ll give you my cock.”

His thumb began to circle your swollen clit, and you saw stars. He fastened his pace, merciless, single-minded, with the only goal of making you feel the biggest pleasure you could experience.

“I’m… I’m close, Joel… p-please don’t stop.”

You let a loud moan, shattering from the force of your orgasm. Head thrown back. Fingers clutching the seat leather. Crying out his name like a prayer.

“Fuck, that was beautiful,” he muttered, pulling away just enough to breathe against your cheek. “Think you’re ready to take me now?”

“Y-yes… I want your cock inside me.”

Joel sat up on the back seat. “Get in my lap.”

You scrambled over, straddling him. He grabbed your ass and pulled you against him, hard cock sliding against your soaked folds.

“No condoms,” he gritted.

“I don’t care,” you whispered, rolling your hips. “Wanna feel you. Want you to cum in me, Joel.”

That was it.

You barely had a second to breathe before he was lining himself up, grabbing your hips and…

“Fuck—” he groaned as he sank in, slow but deep. Pushing inside you in one hard thrust. You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders, your whole body going tight around him. The stretch burned in the best way, he was big, thick, and deeper than anything you’d had before. It felt almost like your first time, and in a sense, it was—your first time with a real man.

Joel grabbed your hips and guided you, panting against your neck, voice wrecked. His hands trembled just slightly, like he couldn’t believe you were real, like you were the most beautiful and precious thing in the world, and for some unknown reason you were letting him have the privilege of fucking you.

You felt the tears pooling at the corners of your eyes. Every inch of him, dragging against your walls, filling you like nothing ever had. He bottomed out and held still, panting against your neck.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he cut off with a strangled sound. “So fuckin’ tight, so goddamn wet… oh, this cunt feels like heaven.”

“Ngggh… J-Joel,” you whimpered. “I-It’s too big.”

“Relax… You’re taking it so good for me,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

You moaned, fucking yourself down onto him, your dress bunched around your waist, heels still on. The truck rocked, the windows fogging thicker with every bounce of your hips. The air was heavy with sweat, lust, and the scent of sex.

“This pussy was made for me, huh?”

“Yes,” you gasped, wrapping your arms around him. “It’s yours, Joel. Always been yours.”

He growled low in his throat and pulled out, only to slam back in—hard. You saw stars.

Your cry cracked in your throat, your whole body arching into him.

Then again. And again.

Joel kissed you like he was starved, and you bit his bottom lip, tugging.

“Harder,” you whispered. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Joel growled and started thrusting up into you. The sound of slick skin slapping and your whimpers filled the truck like music. His hands were everywhere—gripping your thighs, your ass, your hair. His mouth was on your neck, sucking bruises, biting softly, marking you.

“I should be ashamed,” he gritted. “Should hate myself for wantin’ this. For wantin’ you.”

“But you don’t,” you whispered, dazed and breathless. “You love it.”

“You love that I wanted you,” you went on, voice a broken moan. “You love that I called you instead of some college boy. That I made myself yours.”

He pulled out suddenly and flipped you over. You yelped, hands bracing against the seat, ass in the air. He yanked your panties all the way down this time, tossed them somewhere, and slammed back in from behind. This angle felt deeper. Brutal. Relentless.

Joel’s hand came down hard on your ass, and you cried out.

“That what you needed, baby?” he snarled. “Needed to be fucked like a little whore in the back of my truck? Needed this old man to fuck you stupid?”

“Yes!” you sobbed. “God, yes, Joel—don’t stop—don’t stop—!”

His hand wrapped in your hair, tugging your head back so he could growl in your ear. “Not stoppin’ ‘til you’re fuckin’ ruined.”

He fucked you until your voice was hoarse from screaming his name. Your thighs trembled and your vision blurred. You felt another climax approaching, and you came again, this time around him with a cry so loud it drowned out everything else.

“Ah…ah, baby, don’t squeeze me like that…I can’t hold— I’m gonna cum,” he breathed. “Gonna cum inside you, fill you up, let you leak all over those pretty thighs”

He wrapped both arms around you and spilled inside you with a deep, broken moan, growling your name like a man who’d been starving for years—he didn’t pull out, didn’t even try. His whole body shook. You held his head close, whispering how good he felt, how full you were, how much you wanted it.

He just stayed there, breath hot against your back, hips twitching, filling you full, thrusting a few more times just to fuck his cum deep inside your pussy, not letting one drop go to waste.

For a long time, the only sound in the truck was panting. The occasional shaky breath. His palm, warm and wide, soothing up and down your spine like he didn’t know how to let go.

“Fuck.”

You laughed, breathless. “Yeah.”

He pulled you into his lap, arms wrapping around you tight. The only sound was the ticking of the cooling engine and your slow breaths. Joel’s hand still locked in the curve of your thigh. His chest rose and fell like he’d just finished running, eyes glazed as he stared through the fogged windshield, not seeing a damn thing.

You were still in his lap. Dress wrinkled, panties around one ankle, his release sticky between your thighs.

“You okay?” his voice was soft. “I think… I was too rough, I’m sorry, you felt too goddamn good and it’s been so long since—”

“Don’t.” You smiled lazily and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “It was amazing… fuck, you made me cum twice,” you chuckled, as if you couldn’t believe it.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. Just let his hand move slowly over the back of your thigh, tracing your skin like he was trying to memorize it.

Finally, he said, “You shouldn’t’ve called me. And i shouldn’t’ve come.”

You kissed his neck. “But I did call you, and you did come.”

His hand tightened suddenly on your thigh, and his voice dropped lower. “This ain’t somethin’ I can walk away from anymore.”

“Then don’t.”

“Your costume makes a lot of sense, y’know?” There was a low chuckle behind it, half-amused, half-kickin’ himself.

He looked at you—really looked—and something in his face softened, like he was scared of what he wanted and wanted it anyway.

“C’mon,” he murmured. “Let’s get you home before I do somethin’ even dumber.”

A/N: heey, first of all, if you reached this point, thank you so much for reading. I began posting the fics I write here without expecting much but y’all are so kind and you literally make my day whenever you comment or reblog saying something nice. So thank you for putting a smile on my face. I hope you enjoyed this one🫶🩷

[clawsdevour]

children

wc: 0.5k content warning: post-timeskip, established relationship, daichi x reader, smut, making children, not proofread

⠀࿁ 𑄹 ˙ ͏

kids, a topic that's been frequently brought up ever since you got married to daichi sawamura. you never knew the day would come when you got pregnant that night.

"does it hurt?" daichi's calming voice questions. his face is like always, eyes like a puppy's looking to reassure you if you felt any discomfort.

"for the last time, no!" you giggled before biting down on your lip, eyes curled in excitement.

daichi's puffing out air with a big smile spread upon his lips before giving you a light peck on the forehead.

"what if we had kids right now?" was whispered in the crescent on your ear right before he pulled his heated face away, making your whole body shudder.

you knew he was joking, but the thought struck once again. you can't help but think about getting filled to the brim with daichi's essence, a reoccurring image that made your insides feel all tingly. envisioning the feeling of his cum gushing into your pulsating cunt while he continued to pound it deeper made you even more aroused.

something in the air made the time just feel right. you've been married for a while. you're both financially stable and in a great relationship. it was time you two started taking the first steps into parenthood and start having children and expanding the house.

"i'd like that."

hearing those words completely made daichi genuinely stop to think and gather himself back up.

daichi's face was already a flustered pink, but now he's turning bright red when he realized you mean it. he's trying to utter out words but the stutter is insane. not to mention down there... boy was growing and becoming harder than a rock while he's completely frozen from above like a statue.

"really? are you sure? you know you're gonna be the one who's pregnant for 9 months right..??" clearly, he's started to register what you said and is completely in shocked that you agreed.

nodding to show your approval, he is utterly baffled and starts planting kisses all around your face to show how much he loves and adores you. overall, you are the center of his world, now you're about to give him another person to love and take care of.

giggling as daichi's kisses are ticklish, you can't help yourself but feel this weight get lifted off your shoulders now that you know you're ready for this new step in life.

"oh just cum inside me already!" putting your hands on his bare and sculpted chest to put some space for fresh air between you two, blush blooming on your cheeks.

obviously you can't help but gush and feel like you just melted in his arms in that whole moment.. you just wanted to stop imagining and get right down to business.

"whatever you say, babe" daichi says, this time with slightly more sinful intentions.

his warm hands make their way down and put a grip onto the sides of your plush and warm waist. embracing yourself for his thrusts full of force, you place your legs on top of his broad shoulders to which daichi lands a peck on your ankle, what a tease.

daichi's rocking his hips slowly into you till you begged for more. the pleasure felt like sweet and pure ecstacy as a flood of heat spread in between your two hot bodies that oozed with sex. your core was more than clenching in anticipation for a climax, especially his.

his girth swamped your internal nether regions, stimulating your plush and pulsating walls that made his tip throb with the strong urge to let it all go. the increasing and overwhelming pleasure got you gripping the bedsheets as daichi's thrusts began to get more reckless and faster, grunts and moans beginning to echo throughout your house.

your voice grows loud and increases in pitch as daichi's poking at your sweet spot that made you want to burst into a rippling orgasm that would later make your body tremble. daichi's groans mixes with your moans that whimpered with euphoria, just nearly matching each other as you guys lock eyes knowing it's almost time.

the air and atmosphere was getting real hot and smelled like blazing lust. a sheen layer of damp sweat covered both of your bodies as you both continued to make love till the very end of the day.

"i'm so close.. are you sure about this?" daichi utters through the smothering heat in the room, eyes filled with worry since this could change both of your futures.

"yes, do it. i want to have your children... i'm yours" wrapping your arms around his hot and damp shoulders that leaned in. sharing a sweet and sweltering kiss, you were just about there at your bursting peak.

"daichi, let's cum together."

masterlist here

[nonbinary-octopus]

remember: there is no minimum amount you must suffer before you're allowed to change your environment to suit your needs.

[lostinlovingrevery]

hihihihihi hello im a friend of cas' and i love your work :3333 could i perhaps maybe possibly request some cowboy!logan drabbles... it doesn't have to be smut or anything i just wanna kiss that man on the mouth with tongue :333 okay thanks i hope you have a really great day peace love and little donuts 💜

HELLO!!! Dear friend of Cas!!!! Thank you so much <3<3<3

I know you sent this the other night HOWEVER I DID have donuts before work this morning so!!!!!! your blessing worked!!!!

This is cowboy logan and i tend to be really horny about him HOWEVER I am including drabbles both fluffy and smutty below so enjoy. I probs should just make an individual post for each one oh well cash cash money smth smth free will

COWBOY LOGAN DRABBLES!!!!

(smut and fluff below)

Fluff

No More- angst/fluff

warnings: angst, some tension, it all works out <3

You hated every time he left.

The way he give you a kiss on the back of your hand and bid you farewell,

till next time, love.

How he could turn his back to you and walk away, climb on his horse and not even look back at you as he snaps the reins and ride away from your home.

You then spend your time alone, passing time doing your typical chores, and committing to new hobbies you didn't really enjoy all that much. You'd do everything you can to take your mind off him and when you finally realize that you won't stop thinking about him- you put your energy into what you'll tell him the next time you see him.

You were going to put a stop to his visits. No more showing up in the dead of night, no more giving your body to him every time he kisses you, no more letting him plague your every thought.

Then you'd hear his heavy footsteps on your wooden porch, the familiar sound of his spurs, the rustle of the layers he always wears. You'd forget every spiteful hateful thing you wanted to spew at him and run right into his arms, sharing a passionate kiss.

Then he'd pull out something from his pocket. It was different every time. A little gift, a token for you from his travels. It's ranged from everything to jewelry, to knick-knacks. He's given you a small, delicate yet beautiful sea shell. An old, restored compass. A small frame of your favorite flowers, pressed. He brought you books that you keep neatly stacked on your shelves, alongside your gifts that you treasure- even if you're angry with him.

You often wonder why he leaves. Aren't you good enough? He say he loves you, yet refuses to stay. Does he have others, that he says the same things to? Does he bring them gifts from your town?

Your mind would run wild with every possible situation, burning yourself with anger and jealously.

Yet, you still run into his arms. Every. Single. Time.

"Hello darling." He hums happily, pecking your lips again. A hand slipped around your waist to pull you close. You brought your hand to his cheek, examining a small scar. "It's nothing, don't worry."

"What did you do?"

"Just another little scrap, but it's fine." He says. "It's late, why don't we go inside. We can catch up in the morning."

You began to nod- only to remember your decision, how you won't going to let the charming cowboy into your life anymore. He noticed quickly the way your expression soured.

"What is it?"

"I don't think we should do this anymore Logan." You stepped back. Your hands came together, your fingers intertwining as you straighten your shoulders. and hold your chin up high.

He looked at you with a bit of confusion, raising a brow. His eyes trailed down you. "Why?" He stepped forward. "Why the sudden change in attitude sweetheart?"

"It just can't work like this anymore."

A heartbeat passed and a flash of anger came across his face. "There someone else?" He took a step forward, brows creasing together. "Another man?"

You squinted at him, your hands went to your hips. "Why would you care? It's not like you're here most of the time anyway."

A flash of guilt, before it returned to anger. "Is he here?"

You sighed. "No one is here Logan. There's no man. I'm sick of...this. I can't be sitting around my entire life, waiting for you to show up. I don't know what you're doing- where you are. I have nightmares of you ending up dead out there and I'll never know. Because I would just wait for you."

Silence filled the air, as you stared at each other. Logan's rage and jealousy melted away. Relief and concern filling him at the same time.

"Hey" His hand came up to your face and you shoved it away- refusing to let him charm his way back into your good graces. "Hey!" Both hands came to your face, pulling you closer to him. His touch firm, but gentle. "I've been doing it for you."

"What?"

"Been wanting to make sure I could take care of you properly. My girl only deserves the best." He purrs. "Been taking whatever job I could find. Saving up all the money possible so we- could live comfortable. However we want."

A soft gasp escaped you.

"Believe me darling I never wanted to leave you. You're all I can think about when I'm gone. I find things that remind me of you..." A faint smile grew on his face and he leaned his forehead against yours.

"Why didn't you just tell me that?" You whispered. A heartbeat passed.

"You'd convince me. To stay." He answers. "I know you would. Say you wouldn't need anything-"

"I don't-"

"I gotta take care of you darling." He says. "our future, whatever it'll be."

"You still should have told me. All this time I thought you were...just...." You sighed. You met his eyes, the hardness in your heart finally softening again. You considered his words- he could be feeding you a bunch of lies- but one more look into his eyes told you he was telling the truth. "You'd bring me a gift?" You smile.

"I did." He smirked. "Me."

"You-..." You trailed off. "You're not going to..."

"That's right darling. No more leaving. This cowboys heart is all yours."

A Small Crush - fluff

warnings: Violence, drinking, references to unwanted touch, logan being cute

He was a regular

Another patron in the saloon you worked in, tending to drunks, cranky and perverted old men, and the men and woman who worked their asses off and came by to relax.

He never chat much with anyone. Usually asked for a whiskey and sat alone at a table or at the counter. Waved off most who tried to pay him company- even the beautiful girls, and the escorts.

Occasionally he join a card game, sometimes get into a fight with someone who picked the wrong man.

He was a cowboy, and a loner. James Logan Howlett.

However he never passed the chance to talk to you.

He always paid you a compliment, a nice tip, and a pretty smile. Your friends teased you about him.

"Someones got a crush."

"He's just a nice man, that's all." You argued, hoping they don't notice the way you get flustered- how you face began to turn hot as you think about the handsome cowboy who's eyes sparkled when they looked at you.

It was random whenever he showed up, any day, any time. Sometimes will just take a quick drink, and sometimes he'd settle himself in the corner of the bar sipping on the large bottle of whiskey you left for him, and eating the meals you'd bring "on the house" to make sure he was fed, especially when he looked a bit peaky.

When you had the time, you'd sit and talked to him- ask him about his adventures. You loved hearing them- always wanting to leave the small desert town you lived in but never able to set foot out of it. He'd tell you about the trouble he'd get into- the ones that weren't so bad. He may omit a few details here and there- and you could always tell. You didn't care.

Whenever he was there- you always felt safe. Regular patrons began to recognize his intimidating presence and gave you less slack when he was around. One time one of the mine workers decided to smack your butt when you turned around to get the orders of a customer. Before you could even react the lone cowboy was across the room- tackled the miner over the table pining him to the floor and punching the living daylights out of him. It caused a chain reaction of course- and you managed to grab him and pull him out with you until the law came to break things up.

Despite the obvious tension between you both, the lingering glances, how your hand brushed over each his when you'd hand him something- sending a spark of electricity through both of you. Nothing ever happened. You waited for him- waited for him to ask you to dinner, lunch, breakfast- even a midday snack?

It was a late evening when something finally did.

Earlier in the day, the bar broke into a huge fight- Logan was the center of it. Some customer whistled at you- made a crude comment. Like before- Logan flew off the handle. Things got smashed, the authorities came- and you're left to clean the mess.

Your fixing tables and chairs, sweeping up the glass and various other messes when you heard the door creek open and heavy footsteps.

"We're closed!" You called out over your shoulder.

"That's too bad, was hoping for a glass."

You looked up, glancing to the door where Logan stood. He looked a bit sheepish, thumb tucked into his belt. He reached up and removed his hat. You smirked.

"If you can find one that's not shattered on the floor." You remarked, turning to sweeping up the shattered glass. You'll have to tell your boss- who was already fuming and told you to never let Logan back into the bar again- that he needs to order new glasses.

His footsteps approached you and you felt a hand on your back. You turned to look at him- and he held up a single flower to you.

A desert sunflower.

You smiled, taking it from him.

"It's not the best apology but..." A faint smile stretched across his face. "It's a start of one."

You looked at him. "It's promising." You grinned. He looked down, a bit bashful as you noticed the pink of his cheeks. He looked up at you, and reached for the broom.

You gave it to him, stepping away from the mess and allowing him to take over. You turned to the bar, ignoring the crunching of glass you hadn't swept up yet under your feet and began searching for something to pour whiskey into.

"So how did you get away?"

"Well..." Logan looked up, then looked at you, tilting his head towards the broken window. "After Roger threw Jim through it, I climbed out."

You blinked, and began to laugh shaking your head as you recall the chaos. "Y'know, Logan, you don't have to start a fight every time a man acts like a pervert." You crossed your arms, setting a bottle of Jack on the counter and leaning forward" I'm used to it- I can protect myself."

"I know." He smiles, dropping the broom to join you at the counter. "But....beautiful girl like you- man like me can't help it." He says leaning onto the counter, inches away from you.

You hummed, a pregnant silence filling the air around you. You took in the details of his face- like you have a million times before, noticing a deep cut on his cheek.

"Are you okay?" You asks in concern, your hand reaching out to touch his cheek- careful not to touch the cut, but tracing his skin underneath it.

"I've had worse." He smiles, his hand reaching up to curl around your hand, and he turned his head to kiss the palm of your hand, and then each finger.

Your heart started beating faster, butterflies raged in your stomach, each press of his lips sent a new tingle through your body.

"I don't like that you took a hit for me." You say softly.

He looked at you, a faint smirk across his face as his hand came up to take you chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I'd take a lot worse for you sweetheart."

Before you could respond, he leaned forward, catching you in a gentle kiss- giving you space to pull away, but you leaned in further. It turned heated, he tilted his head to lean further into you, licking your bottom lip, and slipping it between your lips as you parted them.

When you finally parted, breathless, your eyes met- and a small laugh escaped you both. You looked away, becoming flustered by your shared kiss. He brushed some hair behind your ear.

"Was that apart of your apology?" You smiled, looking up at him again.

"No, that was something new." He hums. You beamed, tilting your head to the side.

"Good, because you're not getting out of helping me clean all this up."

SMUT

Just a Maid - Smut

warnings: smut (obv), unprotected piv, creampie, logan is such a strange man

He thrusts into you, a breathy gasp escaping as you tipped your head back.

"Gotta be quiet sweetheart-" He purrs in your ear, "Don't want anyone hearing do ya? Or maybe ya do. You want them all to see me fucking you don't you?"

You whimpered, clinging to his shoulders as you wrapped your legs around his hips. He pressed against you, his body supporting you while his hands slammed into the wall on either side of your head.

It all happened so fast. You were up late- finishing the chores. One of the other farmhands was sick, so you did both hers and yours for the day so she could rest.

Logan, another hired help for the folks you work for - a rich family that your father owed a debt to, passed down to you when he died from sickness, had just walked in.

Logan tended to the cattle and sheep on the farm- And was often a topic amongst the women who worked here due to his rugged good looks, and bad attitude to anyone and everyone that interacted with him- including the bosses.

You never really interacted with him, the both of you too busy with your own work. The most you’ve done is bring food and water to the men, especially when it’s hot. The others went out of their way to talk with you- never Logan.

 But you've watched him. How he herded the animals out in the field- he was the best out of all of them. It embarrassed you to admit that you had a crush on him when he barely spoke a word to you- who wouldn't with a fine creature such as him?

Out of everyone that lived and worked on this land though- you definitely didn't have a chance.

He came in, expecting an empty barn to drink and smoke in- but you were there.

Not a word was spoken when he first came in. You both looked at each other. Logan had a look of irritation cross him, a small scoff escaping him as he continued into the barn- towards his hidden stash of jack. You rolled your eyes- annoyed that he was actively acting as if you were inconvinence him for being there when you were just working your ass off.

Time passed and you could feel his eyes on your back and the stench of cigars. Ignoring the feeling, you continued brushing the sheets along the scrubbing board. Soap came up to your elbows, and your skin was beginning to dry out.

"How long are you gonna keep doing that?" His voice finally interrupted the silence. You stopped, turning your head to speak over your shoulder.

"When I'm done." You reply, your tone was snappy. You were exhausted, knowing of the cowboys attitude and your little schoolgirl crush be damned- you weren't in the mood.

The wife of your boss had been around earlier- a real grade A bitch to everyone. She teased you about your dress- a simple milkmaid dress, as if you could afford anything fancy, about how you didn't have makeup, about your background, and even taunted your late father. All the while, you're washing her clothes, her sheets.

He was silent and you were glad he took the message until your heard footsteps approaching you.

"Take a break." You heard him as he stood behind you. His tone was a bit softer, but still demanding. You scoffed.

"I have to finish this first."

"They ain't gonna care-"

"Yes, they will." You respond with a firm tone. You scrubbed harder as frustration built up in you. Silence filled the room again. He said your name and asked if that was correct. A sigh, and you nodded. Didn’t even really know your name.

"I see you around."

"Me?" You laugh.

"You're a busy bee." He says, coming around to sit in front of you, a small groan as he settles down onto a haybale and leaning back, stretching his legs until his boot tapped against the washbasin you were using. "Always running back and forth, ordering the others around. They respect you."

"I've been here long enough for them to."

"Your old man worked here? Right?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "Died before you came around."

More silence, you saw him taking a sip from a bottle in his hand from the corner of your eye.

"You ever take a break?"

"I would if I could." You remark. "Mr and Mrs. Everglot keep me busy."

"That's for damn sure." He mutters. "They're a bunch of assholes."

You glanced up at him. "You think so?"

He quirked a brow, and nodded.

"Mm." You returned back to washing the sheets, the water splashed to the flower. The soap was beginning to disappear during the conversation.

"What?"

"Mrs. Everglot seems to like you." You say. "I see her talking to you every chance she has. Bats her eyelashes at you. Figured you liked her at least."

"That make you jealous?"

Your head shot up. He was across from you, leaning against a hay bale, a smirk growing across his face. You scoffed, shaking your head.

"No?" You say. "Why would I be? We don't know each other."

"Then why'd you bring it up?"

You sighed, "It's just an observation. I figured you one of the men who sneak into her room at night when Mr. Everglot is gone on his trips."

He smirked, eyes watching your every movement. How you seemed to become increasingly flustered as the conversation carries on. He knows exactly what you're talking about- however he has no interest in a woman like Everglot. She was annoying, a rich priss, flashing herself around him and the other men as if she had anything worth looking at.

"I heard her ripping into you earlier." He says.

You froze, not looking at him. Embarrassment filled you to the brim. As if you haven't been humiliated enough today.

He set his bottle down, standing up to walk over to your side, he squatted down to the floor, elbows resting on his knees. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear making you tense up.

"Take it easy darling." He says softly. "I ain't gonna hurt ya."

He cupped your chin, making you look at him. "You shouldn't take that shit from her."

"You think I want to?" You frowned. "I don't have a choice."

"Yeah you do-"

"No, I don't." You say firmly. You reached up to remove his hand. You stood up, squeezing the excess water out of the sheet, before draping it along the wall of a stall. "I have to finish the chores."

"Do you believe her?" He asks.

Your face felt on fire. "Logan- could you just leave me alone? Why are you even asking all this- you don't know me."

"Yeah I do. I've been watching you the entire time I've been here. " He says, stepping closer to you. That took you aback, your brows creasing as you looked up at him, "You're the only one worth her salt around here."

You shook your head and looked down at the floor crossing your arms, a tilt of your hip. "Why are you- I'm just a maid." You don't understand his sudden interest, why he suddenly insists on giving you a pep talk when before today neither of you barely said a word to each other.

"That's what you think you are? Just a maid?"

You looked up at him- startled by how close he was. You looked into his green eyes. The corner of his lip quirk upwards. He reached out and cupped your face again. Within seconds, it felt like your heart was beating out of your chest, and your legs were turning into jelly.

"I don't think so." His voice turns low, as he smirks and tilts his head. 

Before you knew it, you were pressed up against the wall with him between your legs, buried deeper inside you than anyone ever has been. 

You felt his heavy breaths with each thrust on your neck- before he began pressing kisses against your skin again, finding the crook, he bit down hard. You cried out from the pain, hands climbing into his hair and tugging at his messy, sweat covered hair. 

His hands came back down from the wall, tucking underneath your skirt to grab ahold of your ass, as he began pounding into your faster. Chuckling at the sounds of your whines and hiccups. 

“Haven’t gotten fucked like this before haven’t you?” He purred. “I can tell- a damn shame sweetheart, you deserve someone taking good care of you- You take care of everyone else around here.” His head fell to your shoulder, as he groans at the way you tighten around him. “Guess I’ll have to pick up the slack-” 

“Logan-” You whined,

“I know gorgeous- “ He lifted his head up, pressing his lips to your cheek. “What do you need?” 

“You-” You breathed out. He chuckled. 

“You already have me and you want more already huh?” He taunts with a cheeky grin. You jumped from a hard thrust and whine with a pout, “C’mere, I got you-” 

He captured you in a messy kiss, all tongue and spit and teeth clashing together. He spread his feet, angling himself against you as he thrusts in a steady yet rough pace that makes your eyes roll back and your thighs press into his hips harder. 

Your peak came, rolling through you in sharp waves that shook your body, sobs escaping you as you clung to Logan- listening to him while he talked you through it into your ear. His own demeanor became sloppy, voice becoming rough as he fucked your through your orgasm, before stopping and spilling inside you. You listened to his rough moans as he buried his face into your neck. 

After a few minutes, you dropped your shaky legs to the ground. He kept his arms around you, making sure you still had your balance. 

“You alright?” 

“A little dizzy…But yeah.” 

“Mm.” He brought his hand to your chin, tipping it up so you would look at him. “Right here, same time tomorrow. Got it?” 

“Um…” Your mouth hung open, unsure how to respond as you looked up at his face. “Okay…”

He smirked, letting go of you as he tucked himself back in his pants, redoing his belt buckle. He leaned down, grabbing your panties that were discarded to the floor. You reached out to take them- but he snatched them away from you. 

“Think I’m gonna keep this, alright darling?” He stuffs it into his pocket. He reached for your hand, taking it in his and bowing, kissing the back of it. “Make sure to get some rest. Don’t let Everglot talk to you like that again. We both know your ten times worth more than her and her husband.”

He winked out at you, before grabbing his beer and leaving you alone in the barn with the laundry you had washed. Unsure what just happened, as you felt his cum slowly leak out and down your thigh. 

Taste of Cigars- smut

Warnings: smut (obv) unprotected piv, smoking, F! receiving oral

“Hold this, don’t drop it.” 

He stuck the cigar between your lips, and you clamp down to hold onto it.

“Don’t bite through the damn thing darling.” He mumbles, watching you fidget with it. “There- like that. See?” 

You nodded, puffing on it a bit- only to go into a coughing fit and nearly dropping it. 

“How bout you skip doing that, we’ll give it a taste later.” He mumbles. He hiked your skirt up, spreading your legs open for him. “Look at that pretty lil thing- all ready for me ain’t she?” 

“Mhm…” You nodded, heat blooming in your cheeks. You sat back, your elbows supporting you as you kept your thighs spread for him. His hands brushed over your panties- watching the fabric become soaked with your arousal. 

He pressed against your clit, watching your body tense from his touch and smirked, finally kneeling down, pressing kisses to your inner thighs, and then against your clothed cunt. He peaked his tongue, tasting your wetness through your panties and groaning. 

“Taste so damn good sweetheart.” He hums, pushing your panties to the side. “Mhm. Like I said- Such a pretty pussy you got.” 

You whined, stretching your legs open further, desperate for his touch. 

“Hey- don’t drop that cigar-” He orders, his voice becoming demanding, changing from the rough sensual tone he was holding before. You rolled your eyes, your tongue pressing against the butt of the cigar, attempting to get a taste of Logan left behind. “No attitude-” He brought a hand down on your cunt- and you yelped. How’d he know?

A heartbeat passed, his fingers began brushing through your folds, inspecting them carefully. You exhale deeply through your nose, eyes falling shut as you tipped your head back. You let the smoke fall through your lips, careful not to inhale again. The taste warm, more pleasant than you thought it would be- but still carried a bitterness you weren’t used too. 

His calloused fingers before swirling over your clit, sending a new relief through you as you lazily leaned back onto the table, arms stretching over your head. You felt his tongue dip into your hole, a small moan escaping you as you grabbed the edge of the table.

His tongue and fingers switched places, as he placed it against your clit, and he entered a single digit inside you, curling it to hit the sweet spot he knows will send you into a crying mess- he loved doing it to you. 

“Mlogan…” You hummed through his cigar. A hand came down to curl into his hair, tugging him closer. He looped his arms around your legs, his tongue now the sole reason for your pleasure. He ate you out like a man starved- your arousal soaked his face and beard- but he didn’t stop until your body tensed up, lapping at your cum until you fell laxed against the table.

He stood up, pulling the cigar that was hanging off your lips and brought it between his teeth as he puffed on it. 

“Mm.” He nodded savoring the taste of the cigar- noting your own spit that cover the end, his hands coming down to undo his belt and pulling his cock out. “Thanks for holding onto it doll.” He says, his arms once again looping around your legs and tugging you to the edge of the table. 

His cock rested against your belly, and he angled himself to push through your folds- watching your twitch with each rubbing motion. He finally angled himself against your hole, and pushed himself.

“Oh!” You gasped.

“Relax-” He mutters through his cigar, as he pushed deeper into you. You pushed yourself up on your elbows again. Lips parted as your eyes became hazy- full of him. 

He smirked, hand came up to take his hat that sat on the table next to you, setting it on your head. “Why dont ya hold onto that one too sweetness?” 

You smiled up at him, your face dropping as he thrusts into you hard- pulling out to the tip, and back in. 

Immediately losing all strength in your body as he takes you, you fall back onto the table, moans escaping you as your body bounced with each of his thrusts. 

His jaw tensed, teeth gritting as he puffed on the cigar- billows of smoke escaping through his lips. He creased his brows as his hands moved to hold onto you hips, pounding into you at a messy pace. Watching his cock pushing in- as if your pussy was sucking him inside, clenching around him everytime he pulls out. 

His hand came up to pull the cigar from his lips, bringing it down to his hip as he brought his other hand to press against your belly. 

“Doing such a good job darling-” He purred. “Taking this cowboys cock real good.”

“Lo-” You whined. “C’mere-” 

He brought the cigar to his lips, leaning down over you- not ceasing in his endless thrusts. His chest pressed against yours, he rutted into you deep. 

“I want you close-” You whined. 

“I’m pretty damn close from where I’m standing sweetheart.” He chuckled through his cigar. He took a deep puff, removing the cigar from his lips and held it between his fingers- with the same hand, he grabbed your face- squishing your cheeks together. “Open up.” 

His lips touched yours as he blew smoke into your mouth, watching your eyes become glazy- a faint smile appearing across your lips. He licked into your mouth, before pressing open mouth kisses all along your neck, and down your chest. “Fucking perfect.” He hissed, feeling you squeeze around him tight. He sat up, cigar between his lips again as he tugged your skirt further up, exposing your belly. His hands slid over your skin- feeling every soft inch of you, groaning at just how perfect you are.

A few more deep thrusts, and you were creaming around his cock, thighs trembling as tears poured down your cheek. He watched you come undone, fucking you through your second orgasm until he reached his own. He pulled out quick, stroking himself to completion all over your belly, streaks of white painting your skin. 

Once he’s done, he admired the art he made on you- as you laid on the table, spread up, ruined- panting and sweaty. A smirk on his face as he blew out another puff of smoke. 

He stepped forward, stubbing the cigar against the table next to your hip. “So, how’d you like the taste of that sweetheart?” 

You sat up, your hair mussed and ruined, your lips puffy, your eyes heavy and glazed still. You nodded. “That one wasn’t so bad.” You muttered. He smirked. 

“Yeah? Well I got these other flavors,” He reached into his vest, pulling out a small tin. “Figured you could try those out with me too.”

BONUS!!!

a peek into a future chapter of Love and Bounties!!!!!

an absolute menace <3gan

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove (A Zombie!Ghost Story) Chapter Fourteen

Word Count: 3452 Warnings: some suggestive thoughts/actions, mentions of past abuse, more pining, fluff, minor alcohol use, several large timeskips Notes: There is actually no possible version of this chapter that I'm fully happy with lol. But I hate this one the least. And I hope y'all still find it somewhat enjoyable XD All dividers were made by @/sweetmelodygraphics (original post here). The zombie divider indicates the text below is Ghost's POV, the dove divider indicates Lelia's POV. The combined dove and zombie divider represents a time skip but not a POV change. I still have no beta for this fic so all SPAG and consistency errors are my own, feel free to point them out. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

AO3 | Masterlist

The snow came down heavily most nights over the next few weeks, and Lelia was stuck in the cottage more often than not, leaving Simon to continue scavenging alone. Food wasn’t as plentiful in the village as they’d hoped, and at one point, Simon brought back two dead, clumsily skinned squirrels after his hunt. Lelia was horrified, shrieking in disgust when she saw them, and then tearing up out of pity for the poor things.

She ate them anyway.

It wasn’t all bad, though. She managed to convince Simon to let her paint his nails after she caught him watching her do her own. He objected to the sparkly pink color she was using, so they compromised on a pretty shade of light blue. He’d gone silent and looked at it for a long time when she first offered it to him, and he’d seemed almost… sad. Or perhaps lost was the better word. When she’d tried to ask him about it, he’d just shrugged and stayed quiet, not even letting out a grunt or groan. She’d pursed her lips in concern, and spent the next hour trying to cheer him up by telling him how stunning he’d look with his new nails.

Simon had pretended not to be amused, but she could tell that he was.

Today, she was reading him poetry when she was struck with a sudden thought.

“Simon,” she said, getting his attention. He opened his eyes, staring up at her from where his head was laying in her lap. She bit her lip, hesitating for a second, but then continued. “Would you… I mean, you don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to, of course, but— would you like me to try to teach you how to read?”

Simon didn’t answer for a long moment, didn’t so much as move, and she started to worry that she’d upset him. She didn’t know why he couldn’t read—he had to have been able to at some point, to be a soldier, but she didn’t know if he had lost the ability before or after he died. She didn’t even know if he knew.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, when the silence got to her. “I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to presume—”

Simon cut her off by sitting up and cupping her cheek with one hand, looking into her eyes. The cloudy film on his own had begun to fade two weeks past, showing hints of the brown beneath. It was nice to finally know their color. Just like the dirty blond hair, brown suited him.

Neither of them knew what it meant, that it was coming back. Neither of them dared to hope, either.

“Yyeah,” Simon grunted, tapping the poetry book and nodding. “Llllearn… yyeahh.”

“Yeah?” Lelia echoed, a slow, tentative smile blooming on her face. She felt his thumb dig into the apple of her cheek lightly, and it made her blush. She quickly looked away, down at her book. “Well… I’ll have to grab some paper and a pen, then. We’ll start by relearning the alph—”

Simon’s hand moved to grip her chin, lifting her face again. A small, stuttered breath left her, her eyes widening as they looked into his once more.

Is he going to kiss me?

As soon as she had the thought, she realized how stupid it was—not just because Simon didn't have lips, but because he couldn’t possibly see her in such a way, either.

Do I want him to see me in such a way?

Do I see him that way?

Simon was still staring at her, slightly-less cloudy eyes raking over every inch of her face. His broken jaw quivered where it hung, drool sliding out the corner and down his chin. Without thinking about it, Lelia reached up to wipe it away. A second later, she blinked in surprise at the instinctiveness of the gesture. But what was there to be shocked about? She cleaned his drool all the time. She always had. And she always would.

Oh. Oh.

She sucked in a deep breath, feeling dizzy as the realization rocked through her. She loved him. She loved Simon, her zombie, her protector, her only friend. She felt stupid that she hadn’t noticed her own feelings sooner—how many times had she thought about how handsome he was? How many times had she thought that he was the only person who had ever made her happy? That she was selfishly glad the world had ended, because it had brought them together?

It was so obvious, she almost laughed. But then Simon let go of her and tapped the book again, and the spell was broken. She delicately cleared her throat, trying to ignore the way her heart raced in her chest, and the way her whole world felt like it’d been turned on its head. She could agonize over what she was supposed to do now, how she was supposed to act like everything was normal when she was in love with a zombie who would never love her back—or she could teach that zombie to read, like she had offered. She could avoid ruining her relationship with the only person to ever care about her, or she could risk it all.

Lelia had never been very brave.

“I’ll go get that paper,” she said, making her choice. 

Time passed.

He spent most of it in genuine fucking domestic bliss with his dove, cuddled up with her in front of the fireplace when the snow kept her trapped inside, and exploring the village with her when it didn’t. Every little treasure she found made its way back to their cottage, turning it into something resembling a home. She’d even collected a few children’s workbooks for him, and she’d looked so excited that he couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed—especially not when they actually helped. He could recognize the first dozen or so letters of the English alphabet, now, all thanks to her. His beautiful miracle worker.

“Hold still,” Lelia scolded him lightly when he reached over to try and run his fingers through her hair. He grumbled but relented as she batted his hand away, focusing back on his bare arm, which was laid out on the kitchen table, palm facing up. She was carefully filling in his tattoos with a fluffy makeup brush and a bunch of colorful eyeshadow. The pallet she’d found the other day was massive, with over two dozen shades, half of which were downright ugly, in his opinion. He also didn't understand why anyone would need five different hues of blue, but Lelia had been ecstatic about that, so he supposed it wasn’t entirely stupid.

His dove had spent the last hour turning his greying, translucent skin into a damn rainbow. Purples, pinks, reds, yellows, oranges, greens, and all those shades of blue filled in the spaces between the black lines of his tattoos. He felt like a bloody coloring book—but it was worth it to see the proud little smile on Lelia’s face when she finally straightened up and set aside her brush.

“There,” she said, pleased. “Now we match.”

She batted her dark lashes at him, drawing attention to the light blue powder on her eyelids. He groaned. Loudly. Lewdly. But she just giggled, innocently unaware. Christ, she had no idea the things she did to him…

It was getting harder and harder to keep his desires to himself. She’d had another wet dream in his arms just the other night, and he nearly gave in right then and there. He'd wanted to touch her, to taste her, so fucking badly. It was only the memory of her teary, devastated face when she’d confessed about what that bastard of a husband used to do to her in her sleep that had him slipping out of the bed instead of slipping his hands into her sleep shorts.

Ghost was a monster, had been even before he died and came back wrong. But he wasn’t evil. He wouldn’t do that to her. He would never hurt a hair on her precious little head.

“You’re sniffing me again,” Lelia pointed out, and Ghost grunted as he leaned back, putting some space between them. He had been sniffing at her hair like a damn dog, without even realizing. Bloody hell, but that never stopped being embarrassing. “Do you need to go hunt?”

He shook his head, clearing his throat a bit awkwardly before standing up and fetching one of his workbooks from the shelf over the table, along with a pencil. Lelia smiled brightly, clearing away the makeup so there was space for him to practice. He sat back down and opened the book up to the last page they had worked on—one covering the letter N.

“Do you want a refresher?” His dove asked, but he shook his head. The letter was recognizable to him now, as were the ones that came before it, and he was eager to move on. He wanted to be able to read again, to write again. It would make communicating with Lelia so much easier.

“Alright then,” she said, turning to the next page for him. It just looked like two N’s smushed together. “This is the letter M, like in Mama. It makes a mmmuh sound when used in a word. Mmmuh. Mmmuh. It's written like this…”

Lelia loved Simon so much it hurt.

The thought never left her alone, not since she had realized it nearly a month ago. The ache in her cheeks from constantly smiling at the sight of him, the way her heart raced whenever he touched her, the not-nerves that squirmed in her belly when he let out that deep, rumbling growl—none of it would let her forget, not even for a second. Now that she was aware of how hopelessly in love she was, it was all she could think about.

She was sure she was doing a terrible job keeping her feelings a secret, but Simon never seemed to notice. Nothing changed between them, at least. She was simultaneously relieved and disappointed at that fact.

They were currently searching the only section of the village that they hadn’t been in before. Simon had insisted on sweeping the area before letting Lelia step foot in it, like a chivalrous knight of old from her favorite stories. She barely refrained from confessing then and there. Instead, she’d just told him to hurry back, her arms wrapped around him in a hug.

As ordered, he made it quick, returning only ten minutes after he’d gone. So of course, when an hour later a zombie stumbled out of a closet Lelia was looking for new clothes in, he blamed himself. Doubly so when she tripped and fell into a broken window trying to get away, the sharp glass splitting her skin. She could tell by the way Simon reacted, sprinting into the room at the sound of her scream, an inhuman snarl tearing from his throat as he tackled the zombie to the floor and ripped it to shreds.

It was the first time since the cabin that she’d seen him fight another undead, and though it was scary, it was concerningly attractive, too. There was something wrong with her, she was sure, because the sight of Simon covered in gore and viscera, chest heaving, teeth bared… it made her heart race and her body feel warm.

But just like every other time she feared she was being exceedingly obvious about how badly she wanted him, he was oblivious. She found herself almost wishing he would notice, or that she could find the bravery to tell him, because living like this was painful.

But not as painful as it would be if he found out the truth and left her because of it.

Lelia insisted on cleaning Simon the second they got back to the cottage, refusing to let him have a look at the cut on her arm until she’d brushed his teeth and helped him change into fresh clothes. He’d fought her on that, but there were very few things she was stubborn about, so when she decided to be, she went all in. Only when she’d made it clear that she’d bleed out before letting him treat her wound while covered in zombie guts, did he finally relent. Even then, the second she was done, he scooped her up and carried her into the living room before plopping her onto the couch. He briefly disappeared into the kitchen, only to come back with a bottle of cheap whiskey to sterilize her wound with.

He poured a little bit of alcohol onto a clean rag and set the bottle down on the coffee table, before beginning to disinfect the deep cut on her forearm with gentle ministrations. It stung, but Lelia didn’t so much as twitch, used to far worse. Instead, she stared at the whiskey curiously.

It smelled something awful, nothing like the top shelf liquor her father and husband used to drink. Lelia found herself itching to try it regardless—neither man had ever let her have anything more than half a glass of champagne. Hard liquor wasn’t ladylike, after all.

She’d had a terrible dream about Andrew last night. Just the memory of it—hands, pushing her head underwater as his cock forced its way inside her—made her shudder. Maybe it was that—that need for reassurance that she was no longer his pretty little art piece to destroy on a whim—that had her reaching for the bottle. Maybe it was her brush with death earlier that day that had her taking a generous sip. Whatever it was, she regretted it instantly, the whiskey polluting her mouth with a taste so foul she thought she might be sick. It was even worse going down, burning her throat and making her cough like someone dying of tuberculosis.

Simon laughed, that familiar, gravelly chuckle settling in her chest, warm and heavy. Or perhaps that was the whiskey. Either way, she wanted to hear it again, so when Simon reached for the bottle to take it away from her, she pouted and took another, big sip. She gagged in between her coughs this time, but it was worth it. It was so worth it, because suddenly, Simon’s cold fingers left her bandaged arm, plucking the bottle from her grasp and setting it back on the table, before he tugged her off of the couch and into his lap. He gathered both her wrists in one hand, pinning them between their chests as he took her chin in the other. He swiped his thumb over her bottom lip, wiping away a drop of alcohol.

“Naughhhhh’yyyy,” he groaned, low and playful, and Lelia sucked in a sharp breath, eyelashes fluttering. The warmth spread outwards from her chest, and a shuddering gasp escaped her, hot air ghosting over Simon’s fingers as she fell into his touch, irresistibly drawn to him. She could have sworn she saw his own cloudy, speckled eyes darken, and felt his loose grip on her wrists tighten. Wishful thinking, probably, but she was struggling to think rationally between the slight buzz of alcohol in her brain and the dizziness caused by his touch.

Lelia shifted a little bit, straddling his strong things. Her heart raced in her chest and part of her knew she wouldn’t be so bold if not for the whiskey—but maybe that was why she had drank it after all. She just wanted to be as close to Simon as possible. She’d tuck herself inside the hollow of his chest, if she could.

He could be inside you.

Lelia shivered at the thought. That nervous squirming sensation in her belly was back, but she knew by now it wasn’t fear—it was something she had never experienced before, at least not to the degree Simon’s touches caused. No, it was the feeling she got when she saw a fit actor on the telly take off his shirt. It was the feeling she got when her Year Eleven English teacher—a handsome, slightly older man that wore reading glasses and sweater vests—called her a good girl for helping her fellow students whenever they didn’t understand the material like she did. And shamefully, it was the feeling she sometimes got—very rarely—when Andrew or the soldiers took her. But this time, there was no terror or disgust attached to the moment. There was just Simon, and how he made her feel. Safe. Treasured.

Aroused.

Simon was silent and still beneath her. He’d let go of her wrists, and his hands drifted down her body to settle on her hips, thumbs slipping under the hem of her sleep shirt to rub circles into her flesh. She swallowed, and then leaned forward, until her lips pressed against the hard plastic of his mask, right over his forehead. He shuddered, grip tightening, and Lelia moved her lips lower, kissing the spot just beneath his left eye, then his right.

“Please,” she begged Simon, voice soft and needy. “Please take it off… I want to see you. I want to see all of you.”

Simon stared up at her with an unreadable look in his foggy eyes, taking deep, rattling breaths even though she knew he didn’t need to. But then he jerked his head to the side sharply, a denial.

“Sssscaa’eee… yyyyouuu,” he mumbled, looking away. Lelia’s heart broke, and she tried to gently turn his face back towards hers, but he wouldn’t budge. She sighed, resting her temple against his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his neck, eyes still trained on him.

“You could never scare me, Simon,” she whispered. “Never. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel safe.”

Don’t.

Ghost knew he should listen to the voice in his head—not Johnny’s, for once—and refuse. He’d traumatize his sweet little dove if she caught a glimpse of him. He could see it all too clearly—the second his gaunt, rotted face was revealed to her, she’d start crying and lock herself in her room.

But she’d asked, and he was pure shite at saying no to her.

Slowly, he reached up and began to lift his mask. Lelia’s eyes widened and she straightened before going perfectly still, watching with rapt attention. He swallowed thickly, fucking terrified that she would scream and run away. That this would ruin everything between them.

“Please,” she whispered again when he paused, hesitating. He gave a full-body twitch, but then yanked his mask the rest of the way off, like he was ripping off a plaster. She gasped, and Simon closed his eyes, unable to stand the sight of the horrified expression that was bound to be on her face.

Several seconds of silence passed, but then suddenly, he felt Lelia’s plush lips on his forehead. His eyes snapped open as she began to pepper his face with lingering kisses, just like she had his mask. He could feel the softness of her skin, the feathery touch and addictive warmth.

“You’re so beautiful,” she breathed in between kisses. Simon could barely hear her, entranced with the delicious, searing heat of her mouth on his cheeks, his nose, even his broken jaw and the corner of his lipless mouth. “Thank you… thank you for trusting me… for caring for me… for saving me… Simon, I—”

She cut herself off, pulling back to look into his eyes. As his hands found her hips again, he watched her carefully, a part of him still waiting for rejection.

“I love you, Simon.”

I love you. I love you. I love you, Simon.

Lelia’s soft words rang in his ears. He let out a choked noise, his hands squeezing her so tightly she whimpered. He immediately let go of her, and she looked at him with a mortified expression.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a rush, blinking rapidly as her eyes grew shiny. “Just— just forget I s-said anything, I shouldn’t h-have, I’m sorry—”

Simon didn’t have lips to kiss his dove with. He didn’t have the words to tell her how badly he wanted her. He couldn’t press her palm to his chest and show her how she made his heart race, the sensation just a phantom of memory.

But fuck, if he wouldn’t bloody well try.

He laid a hand over her heart, and recalled one of the first poems she read him—a favorite of hers, she’d said. Carefully, he spoke.

“Cccaaaarrryyyy thiiiiisss,” he patted his own chest with his other hand. “Innn hheeeerre.” The tears in her eyes spilled over, and finally, finally, she surged forward, her mouth crashing against. And for the first time since he’d died, Simon felt truly human.

[notiddygothgf]

xiii

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ This can’t be anything.❞

★ c.w.: public foreplay, vibrator, smut, confusion again (thank you aki, we all say in unison), lovemaking ( uh ohhhh ), an epiphany.

★ a/n: SHES BACCKKKKKK!!!!!! IM BACK FROM THE DEADDDDDD!!! oh my fucking god finals whooped my ass so gd bad. this chapter has been in the works for so so so so so long. i missed you all dearly. thank you -- not only for being patient, but for being so loving during my absence! You guys gave me motivation to keep posting. I have so much planned for this story and i cannot wait to take you all there. Stay tuned and, as always, keep those comments coming! Oh how I've missed your spam <3

★ w.c: 10k

pornstar ; chapter index

YOU STIRRED SLOWLY, twitching as you came to. You didn’t even remember passing out at Aki’s place, but a glance to your left brought everything back – another round, more words of praise, some kisses that definitely didn’t get to your head. And, in the middle of it all, lay Aki himself, completely shirtless and sprawled out over the bed on his stomach. His arm was draped across your body like a seatbelt, locking you in place. A little confused (but not at all upset by the view) you watched his back rise. Fall. Rise again.

Sharing a bed with him felt too intimate – too easy. It was too easy to smile when you saw his pretty, relaxed face. It was too easy to map out the shapes and slopes – the way his brows were furrowed just slightly, the way his hair, down and tousled, fell into his face and shrouded his eyes from your gaze. Suddenly, he wasn’t the invincible Captain he pretended to be. 

No, right now, he was just a 21-year-old boy, completely vulnerable beneath your prying gaze. You weren’t sure what to do with the feeling – or feelings, for that matter. Any of them.

God, he’s so pretty it hurts, you thought, mindlessly tucking a tuft of his hair behind his ears so you could get a better look at him. He stirred slightly, probably having been tickled by the movement, but didn’t wake. So, feeling a little bold, you continued to play with his hair – continued to mindlessly twiddle the black strands in between your fingertips even though you knew you shouldn’t.

There was just something about it that gave you a small sense of satisfaction.

Your finger traced a path from his brow to his cheek – faintly enough to make him stir. Then his nose twitched, and a moment later, his tired eyes opened slowly, blinking like he was trying to make sense of the fact that you had stayed.

A slow smile crawled over his lips. “Morning,” He grumbled. His voice was still groggy, a little deeper than usual.

He looked ethereal in the mornings. It was seriously unfair. Here you were – messy, tousled hair and crusty eyes – and he looked like a fucking princess. 

You hadn’t realized your hand was still on his face until he glanced at it. Quickly, like you had been burned, you withdrew your touch. Clearing your throat, you replied. “Good morning.”

His smile didn’t falter, didn’t shift, but his eyes lingered a second too long—like he was trying to memorize something. Like maybe your hand had felt good there.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, voice lower now, more tentative.

You hesitated, searching for the right words as your body reminded you of every ache and throb. “Sore,” you admitted with a small, breathy laugh, “but good.”

Your gaze dropped to the sheets tangled around your waist. “Last night was… really good.”

The night before flashed through your mind like a record on loop – his hands on your back, around your neck, the way his hips rolled so devilishly into yours over and over again. The way he held you after, like you were something more than just a woman to him – like it meant something.

“You were amazing,” He breathed, the words tender and not at all rushed, like he had all the time in the world.

It wasn’t just the soreness or the memory of what you’d done – it was the way your chest ached now, with something tender and blooming. Something terrifying.

His lips were a scorching hot memory on your skin, leaving burns in their wake. His gentle touch burned a little deeper, though – the scars it left were in your mind.

And those words, lingering on the back of your tongue – I’m catching feelings for you.

You gazed into his half-lidded baby blues, pursed lips melting into a smile. Slowly, your heart rate began to climb. You decided then that you would never tell him how you felt. You knew what would happen if you did – none of this would ever happen again. You would never be able to feel him so close to you, buried up to the hilt in your warmth while you dug your fingernails into his strong back. Never again would you be able to hear him laugh the way he only seemed to do with you – hear his compliments, feel his revering touch. Never again would he be yours – even only partially. 

That thought alone was painful enough to make you wince. You knew that your feelings would shatter this illusion – this little thing the two of you had going on. Your feelings would make it too real. In a moment, the two of you would snap back to reality, and probably go back to being coworkers in the process. Aki would undoubtedly do what he did best – putting up those walls to keep you at bay because he didn’t know how to do anything else – and you… well, you weren’t sure what you would do without him now that you’d gotten a taste. 

So, deciding to save yourself the heartache, you snapped yourself out of it. “I should get going.”

Great, now he’s gonna think I’m ghosting him, You thought to yourself. All things considered, it probably would have been best for you to ghost him. It sure as hell would have saved you the heartache.

No, you could never. You were in far too deep to back out now.

“Not gonna stay for breakfast?” He replied, tilting his head at you. He shifted, tossing an arm behind his head to stretch, and you would have been lying if you said you didn’t ogle his biceps. 

I hate you, you thought. How could you offer me everything and then nothing at the same time?

No, you corrected. It’s my fault. He doesn’t want anything more. I’m the one who was stupid enough to agree.

“I shouldn’t,” You sighed. It would be bad – really, really bad. If you got up now and got ready with him, then you would have to go to the kitchen with him. Then, if you went to the kitchen with him, you would admire him while he made breakfast. Then, to top it all off, you would love his cooking – whatever he decided to make you, because of course you would – and realize that maybe, just maybe, the cooking wasn’t the only thing you loved about him. 

I mean, what?

You continued, “I really have to grab some groceries today.”

Only a partial lie. Today was your designated grocery day. Before he could clock your lie, you were already shifting towards the edge of his mattress, swinging your feet over the side until they touched the ground. You looked back at him, only to find him laying on his side with his head perched on his hand, shamelessly watching you…. wearing his shirt. 

Just his shirt.

It was all too intimate. It was just enough to drive you wild, but not enough to warrant a conversation so early in the morning, so you looked away for a moment and rose to your feet. “Can I borrow some pants?” You asked, already dreading the prospect of wearing your dress from the night before home.

You glanced over to the bed once more. Aki stretched – a big stretch – and the covers slipped a little lower. His sweatpants did, too, revealing just enough skin to give you a glimpse of his navel, his abs. Then, without a word, he slipped out of bed and walked over to the dresser, where he pulled a pair of sweatpants out and tossed them onto the bed. 

“Thanks,” You muttered, grabbing them and slipping your feet into them. You were thicker than Aki was, for lack of a better word, so the waistband wasn’t an issue. The length, however… well, that was an issue. The pants were so long, in fact, that they bunched up ridiculously around your feet.

You looked up, and he was still watching you. It was strange, though. He wasn’t just staring at you. No, he was looking at you like he had never bothered letting someone stay until the morning, like he had never seen a woman get changed the morning after a night spent tangled in his sheets. Like you were a rare sight.

Like you were beautiful.

“Are you staring?” You asked him, even though you already knew the answer.

“Am I… not allowed to?” He replied. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

With a roll of your eyes that lacked any real resentment, you bent over and reached for your dress at the foot of the bed, balling it up and chucking it at him.

“You’re driving me home, asshole,” You snapped at him. “I’m not gonna limp to the bus stop.”

When you looked back, he had his car keys pinched between his fingers, jingling them around. “Was already planning on it. What kind of man do you think I am?”

The kind who breaks girls’ hearts,you thought, but decided not to voice that opinion.

There was nothing casual about this. You knew it was a bad idea. You were already getting attached, but this?

This was bad.

No, it’s not, you told yourself. He’s just being a decent guy.

Aki tugged his shirt on with one hand, the motion slow and thoughtless, like he had all the time in the world. The hem fell crooked across his hips, but he didn’t fix it. Didn’t need to. He looked good like that—half-dressed, hair only a little disheveled, eyes still heavy with sleep. The kind of good that made your chest hurt.

You kept your back to him as you crouched by the edge of the bed, fingers curling around the soft fabric of your dress. It was wrinkled and still warm from where you’d tossed it last night. Your phone was buried in the blankets, screen dim, battery nearly dead. You grabbed it, too, along with your heels—one tucked near the corner of the bed frame, the other abandoned halfway to the door.

Your body ached in ways that weren’t entirely physical. 

You grabbed your heels from beside the bed, not bothering to sit down before shoving them on. Being near him like this made it worse.

You caught a glimpse of his face the moment you turned – quiet, unreadable, eyes softer than they had any right to be. 

You looked away first.

You rolled the cart right on along the aisles at the grocery store. It was somewhere around halfway full. You brushed past the medicinal aisle and the snack aisle (though the latter was not exactly easy).

You rolled the cart along the aisles, letting the wheels bump gently over the smooth linoleum, one of them squeaking just enough to be annoying. It was somewhere around halfway full—staples mostly. Milk. Rice. A few boxed dinners for the nights when you didn’t feel like trying. You were running low on effort this week, and honestly, this grocery trip was more necessity than anything. A quiet kind of obligation. Something to do when you didn’t want to be alone with your thoughts for too long.

You passed the medicinal aisle, resisting the urge to stop and read labels you didn’t need. Then came the snack aisle, which was a harder temptation. You slowed, caught sight of a bag of honey butter chips—your favorite—and hovered for a second. But you shook it off. If you bought them, you’d eat the whole bag by tomorrow night. Probably in one sitting. You weren’t proud of how well you knew that.

Turning the corner into produce, you took a breath, letting the sharp scent of citrus and green leaves fill your lungs. You grabbed a bag of apples, feeling their smooth skin under your fingers, and then some bell peppers. The green ones were cheaper, but you always liked the red ones more, so you reached for those without bothering to rationalize it. A few bananas. A bundle of kale. You weren’t really thinking about the food, not really—it was more muscle memory, just something to keep your hands moving.

Then your phone buzzed in the pocket of your hoodie.

You fished it out, glanced down without thinking—and stopped in your tracks.

Aki.

Your heart did that thing again. The thing it had started doing lately, whenever you saw his name. Not a full skip, not yet, but just a pause. A flutter. A small, stupid stutter.

He didn’t call often. Usually it was texts. Quick check-ins, questions, things you could answer without having to hear his voice. So the fact that he was calling now—while you were elbow-deep in grocery shopping and quietly trying to keep your mind from wandering back to him—felt like the universe was playing games.

You answered, pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder while reaching for a bag of spinach. “Hey, you.”

There was a breath on the other end, then: “Hey. Are you busy right now?”

“Not really,” you said, pushing the cart forward with one hand, “Just picking up some groceries. Why? What’s up?”

A quiet pause.

“Nothing much. Just wanted to see what you were up to.”

You hesitated, your hand hovering over a container of strawberries. That wasn’t like him. Aki wasn’t the type to call just to talk. He was methodical. Intentional. He didn’t check in unless there was a reason.

“Are you sure you’re not just bored?” you asked, aiming for lightness, something casual to cover how your heart had started doing acrobatics in your chest.

“A little of both, maybe.”

You smiled despite yourself, placing the strawberries gently into the cart. “Wow. Never thought that the illustrious Captain Hayakawa would ever run out of things to do.”

“Just because I’m bored doesn’t mean I’m not doing things,” he replied evenly. “I’m cleaning the kitchen right now.”

You could picture him there—hair tied back messily, sleeves pushed up, his hands scrubbing at something with more intensity than necessary. Probably frowning, like the dishes had personally insulted him.

“Lucky for you, then,” you said, grabbing a bottle of shampoo and scanning the shelves for the matching conditioner, “I’m bored at the grocery store. Guess you’re my entertainment for today.”

There was a small sound on the other end of the line. A soft breath—just barely audible. Like a half-laugh held back or maybe him shifting the phone from one ear to the other. But it lingered. Sat in your ear like something warmer than it should have been.

“I’ll try to make it worth your while,” he said, voice low and rough around the edges.

You paused.

Not because you didn’t have something to say—but because you felt something catch in your chest at the sound of his voice like that. Unhurried. Familiar. Like this wasn’t some casual call, but something he wanted to stretch out.

And maybe it was nothing. Maybe you were just reading into it because you’d been reading into everything lately when it came to Aki.

But it didn’t feel like nothing.

The pause between you wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt intentional. Like you were both sitting with something unspoken.

“What’s up with you, though?” you asked, careful not to sound too curious. “You never call for no reason.”

“Nothing major,” he replied. “Picked up Denji and Power from Himeno’s place today.”

“Oh, god,” you said, already grinning. “I can’t imagine what that was like.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered, and you could hear the tired weight in his voice – the same tone he used after long days, after being stretched far too thin. “They’re a nightmare.”

“What happened?”

“First of all, I get there,” he started, and you could already hear the reluctant story spilling out, “and Denji’s in the middle of a shouting argument with Power about… God, I don’t even know. They’re both yelling and Himeno’s just sitting there looking exhausted.”

“Sounds like a good time,” you replied, steering your cart around a display of instant noodles. “Did you pay her?”

“Yeah, real fuckin’ peaceful,” he said dryly. “Himeno gets all curious and starts asking me why I needed the house to myself for the night. I told her I needed some space. She didn’t buy it, of course, but I bought her some beer to make up for it.”

You laughed softly, heart skipping as your hand hovered over the shelf of bath soaps. “What did you tell her?” you asked. “Not that you took the night to wine, dine, and have a good time with your superior, I hope.”

“Poetic,” he said, and you could practically hear the eye roll. “No, I told her I was cleaning. Real convincing, huh?”

“I’m sure she totally believed it,” you said, biting your lip to suppress your smile.

“Probably not,” Aki continued. “But Denji, being Denji, decides that now is a good time to ask me if I’m ‘finally making a move’ on someone. Right in front of her.”

You stopped mid-step, frozen beside a tower of canned tomatoes.

“Oh my god.”

“You don’t even know,” he said. “Himeno just looked between us, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. I thought she was gonna crack the code right there.”

Your heart thudded once—loud, sharp.

There it was again. That strange tension pulling taut between the two of you. That same thread that had been building over weeks, months. You never talked about it, never named it, but it was there. In the quiet way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. In the way he lingered around you, even when he didn’t have to.

And now he was calling you in the middle of cleaning his kitchen, just to talk. No mission. No briefing. No emergency.

Just… to talk.

Why?

Your throat felt a little dry. You reached into your cart and fidgeted with one of the items, not even really seeing it.

What did this mean?

Aki wasn’t the kind of person to waste time. He didn’t do small talk. And yet here he was, calling you while wiping down counters, recounting Denji’s idiocy and letting you laugh at him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You couldn’t stop the thought from blooming:

Was he starting to get attached to me, too?

You swallowed. “Did she figure it out?”

He hesitated. “I don’t think so. I just kept pretending I didn’t hear Denji, but you could tell she was dying to know.”

You laughed, shaking your head as your cart—long since full—creaked beneath your hand. You weren’t even trying to shop anymore. Hadn’t been for a while, if you were honest with yourself. You were halfway through what must’ve been your second lap around the store, aimlessly weaving past the same rows of cereal boxes and boxed rice you’d already passed twice.

“That sounds like a circus,” you said, letting your voice trail with a smile. “But I bet you were relieved when you got them out of there.”

“Oh, for sure,” Aki replied. “I couldn’t get out fast enough.”

You pictured him at Himeno’s, leaning in the doorway with that deadpan look on his face as Denji and Power argued across the room. Himeno, probably drinking, probably amused, watching him suffer in silence like she always did. You let out a breath that almost counted as a laugh, curling your fingers a little tighter around the phone where it pressed to your ear.

It had been like this since he called. No mission. No excuse. Just… Aki. Talking to you like it was natural. Like you were part of the rhythm of his day. And maybe you were. Maybe that was what twisted you up the most.

He should’ve hung up already. You should’ve let him. But neither of you did.

What is this?

“What about you?” he asked, his voice just a touch softer now. “You have any nightmare situations in the past twelve hours I haven’t seen you?”

You stopped walking for a moment, then slowly made your way toward the frozen section for no reason at all. Your hand hovered near a glass door before falling away again.

He’s dragging it out, you realized.

But so were you.

You hadn’t needed to keep walking. You could’ve checked out a few minutes ago. But you hadn’t. You didn’t want to. You kept finding one more aisle, one more shelf to browse, just to stay on the line with him a little longer. 

That wasn’t like you. But then again, nothing about your feelings for Aki had felt normal for a while now.

“None worth mentioning,” you replied, voice light, teasing—like if you could keep it playful, it wouldn’t feel like a confession. “Nearly hit a guy on the road, though.”

Aki laughed – actually laughed. Low and real and too rare. “Of course you’d be a shitty driver.”

You scoffed, biting the inside of your cheek to hide the way your heart jumped at the sound of him laughing like that. “I’m a great driver, for the record,” you said, pacing now just to have something to do with your body. You turned past the same shampoo shelf you’d picked clean earlier. “But I’m coming up to checkout now, so… let me let you go.”

A lie. You weren’t even close to checkout. You just didn’t trust yourself to keep going.

Because if you did—if you kept this call alive any longer—you weren’t sure what you’d end up saying. Or worse, what you’d end up hoping he’d say.

“Got it,” Aki replied, after a beat. “I’ll spare you the horror stories.”

There was something reluctant in his voice too. It wasn’t just you.

“Maybe save it for later,” you said, and the words were warmer than you meant them to be. Too soft, too honest. You cleared your throat a little. “Sounds like you’ve got more in store.”

“Always,” he sighed. The sound was quiet, but not tired. If anything, it sounded a little like he was smiling.“Always some new bullshit in the Hayakawa household.”

That made your chest ache.

“Anyway, I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Later.”

You hung up before you could talk yourself out of it.

The silence that followed was immediate and jarring. You stood still in the middle of the hair care aisle, phone still clutched in your hand, surrounded by neatly stacked shelves of products you didn’t need anymore. The air conditioning hummed. Someone rolled a cart past behind you. A kid whined in the next aisle over. But none of it felt real—not yet.

You’d dragged out a phone call for a hell of a lot longer than was necessary just to hear his voice. To make him laugh. To let him talk about his day in a way that made it feel like you were his first choice to tell it to. 

And he hadn’t hung up either. He hadn’t even tried.

That… meant something. Didn’t it?

You exhaled slowly, barely aware of the tightness in your chest until now. Your hand went to your cart, gripping it lightly, and finally, finally, you turned and started toward checkout. The line was short, mercifully. Your body went through the motions – items on the belt, card in the reader, bags in hand – but your mind was still back in that aisle, listening to the soft edge of Aki’s voice and the way he said “talk to you later” like he actually meant it.

He could’ve just texted, you thought, and it made something sharp twist in your stomach. But he didn’t.

He wanted to hear your voice. He wanted to stay on the line. And he didn’t make up some excuse to call. He just asked what you were doing… like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You bit your lip as you stepped out into the parking lot. The sun had started to dip low, casting long shadows across the asphalt. You loaded your groceries into the car in silence, heart still tugging toward the sound of his voice, the comfort of that call, and the questions it left you with. What did it mean?

Monday morning – after a weekend spent overthinking about what your coworker thought about you – you strolled into Public Safety HQ with all the reluctance in the world. You went through the same motions you did every workday. You said hi to the man who worked the lobby, then a few familiar faces. You took the stairs up exactly one flight and wandered into the mailroom, where you unlocked your cabinet and checked for letters and notices.

You found neither. What you did find, however, was a single, lone note. Curiously, you turned it over in your palm. It came from inside the building, yes, but that wasn’t what caught your eye.

What caught your eye was the name initialed on the lower left corner of the back side – A.

A. one letter. It wasn’t accompanied by any other distinguishing marks. In fact, if you didn’t recognize the strange swoop in the center of the initial, you would have wondered who it was from.

But you would recognize that handwriting anywhere. So, instead, you popped a finger beneath the seal and tore the envelope open, weaseling a small note out of it. It wasn’t addressed to you specifically, but you knew exactly who it was from and who it was for.

“If you see this, call me. Thinking of you.”

With a tongue-in-cheek smile that could have powered a small village, you pocketed the little note slipping into the back of your slacks. He’s not even trying to be subtle, is he?

You stepped out of the mailroom with that stupid grin still tugging at your mouth, trying to play it off like you hadn't just pocketed what was probably the equivalent of a middle school "do you like me – yes/no/maybe" note from a fully grown man who swore up and down that there were no feelings involved.

The hall was quiet. Almost too quiet. That should’ve tipped you off.

You turned the corner at the end of the corridor, eyes on your phone – already half-tempted to call him just to see how fast he’d pick up – when you walked straight into someone.

“Shit– sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back.

“Oh, look who it is,” came a familiar, teasing voice. Himeno.

You looked up just in time to see her grin spreading wide across her fucking face. She slung an arm over your shoulder like she hadn’t just almost knocked the wind out of you, good eye gleaming with that typical too-knowing sparkle.

And standing just behind her – hands in his pockets, expression neutral save for the subtle raise of one brow – was Aki.

Of course.

"Morning," he said, quiet but direct, like he hadn’t fucked a limp into you only 72 hours earlier.

"Morning," you echoed, trying not to sound breathless.

God, he looked fucking good. Too good for a Monday morning. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to the elbow, and there was a faint crease between his brows like he’d been deep in thought. Or maybe – just maybe – he was thinking about that note he left you. The one that was burning a rectangle-shaped memory into your back pocket.

“You look tired,” Himeno said, poking you in the side. “Wanna grab lunch with us later?”

The casualness of the offer made your heart stumble a little. Just lunch. Friendly. Coworkers. 

You glanced between them, stalling for just a second too long.

“Uh – sure,” you said finally, because what were you gonna do, say no and look like you had something to hide?

“Great!” Himeno said, clearly pleased. “We were thinking of that ramen place near the station. You like that one, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

Aki still hadn’t said anything. But when Himeno turned to walk down the hall, he lagged behind for just a beat – long enough for your eyes to meet his.

His expression didn’t shift. He didn’t smile. But there was something else there.

You almost stopped breathing.

And then, just as quickly, he looked away and followed Himeno down the hall.

You stood there for a second longer, pulse high and mind full of too many questions. Was the note meant to be a joke? A game? An invitation? Did he even expect you to find it this early?

You didn’t know, but your fingers twitched towards your phone anyway.

Because even if there were no feelings involved, you were starting to think the two of you were lying to yourselves. Real bad.

You, Denji, Aki, Power, and Himeno were squeezed into the back booth of the ramen shop — a cramped semicircle of too many limbs and clashing personalities. The air was thick with the scent of pork broth, fried gyoza, and something else entirely — something you couldn’t name but felt anyway. Maybe it was the heat rolling off the open kitchen. Or maybe it was the way Aki kept looking at you like that.

You sat directly across from him, your knees nearly brushing beneath the low table, though neither of you had made contact — not yet. He was angled slightly away, his shoulder toward Himeno as she carried on with one of her animated stories, laughing through half of it, chopsticks gesturing. But you knew Aki wasn’t listening.

Not really.

Because he kept looking at you. And you kept looking back.

Not directly — not boldly — but in half-glances, fleeting flickers of your eyes to his, only to find him already watching you through the veil of his lashes, that unreadable expression sitting low on his face. His hand was on the table, idle, fingers tapping the edge of the lacquered wood with a slow, deliberate rhythm. It made you wonder if he was thinking the same thing you were. If he remembered last time. If he wanted to remind you who you belonged to — even here, even now.

You swallowed hard and tried to focus on what Himeno was saying. Something about a devil encounter last week and Denji almost blowing out the windows in the company van. Power was howling with laughter beside her, while Denji insisted he was the hero of the story. Himeno rolled her eyes and waved him off.

You nodded along, forcing a smile, pretending to be present — and then your phone buzzed.

You blinked and glanced down, subtly sliding it out beneath the table. Aki hadn’t moved, but you could feel his gaze sharpen as your thumb flipped the screen open.

AKI: Order the miso ramen.

Four words. Plain. Unassuming.

But you felt them settle into you like a hand at the base of your neck — commanding, heavy, familiar.

Your breath hitched.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and this time, he wasn’t pretending not to look. His stare was fixed, steady, hooded with the kind of intensity that made your stomach flip. Your cheeks burned — a slow, creeping warmth that started behind your ears and spread down to your collarbone. And he knew. You could see it in his face — in the way the corners of his mouth twitched like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Your thighs pressed together under the table, involuntary. You knew you should’ve felt annoyed. Or amused. Or... anything else.

But you liked it.

You liked being told what to do.

Especially by him.

A beat passed — his eyes never leaving yours — and then, finally, you broke the stare and cleared your throat.

“I’ll have the miso ramen,” you told the server when they approached.

He didn’t say a word, but you felt the weight of his approval settle in the space between you. Quiet. Commanding. Deep.

Himeno barely noticed, already diving back into her story once the ordering chaos passed. Something about Kobeni throwing up on a mission. You heard Denji groan, Power laughing louder than she needed to, and Himeno snort as she mimicked Kobeni’s voice.

You tried to listen.

You really did.

But you could feel Aki watching you again, in that maddening, disciplined way of his – the kind that never crossed a line in public, but made it very clear that he could.

Your skin prickled.

Your mouth was dry.

You shifted in your seat, subtly, and stole one more look across the table –  only to find him already looking back.

This time, he didn’t look away.

And neither did you.

The food arrived steaming and fragrant only a few minutes later, the server barely managing to fit all the bowls on the tiny table without knocking over someone’s water. You reached for your chopsticks just as Denji leaned forward, slurping his broth obnoxiously loud before launching into his next brilliant monologue.

“Aki was a total asshole this morning,” Denji announced, already gesturing with his chopsticks like he was pointing out evidence at a crime scene. “We put, like, one tiny bug in his coffee – one! – and he looked at us like he was gonna kill someone.”

You didn’t even look up. “Because you put a bug in his coffee, Denji.”

Denji sputtered. “It was dead!”

“That’s not the defense you think it is,” you replied dryly, only realizing after the words had left your mouth that you were defending Aki without hesitation. Instinctively. Almost... possessively.

You glanced over at him, just to check — and sure enough, his gaze had lifted to you. Barely. Just a flick of his eyes from beneath his lashes, but it was there. Not gratitude exactly. More like... acknowledgment. Heat. A quiet satisfaction that made your pulse skip.

Power, meanwhile, howled with laughter. “It was a huge bug. You should’ve seen it twitching when Aki sipped it!”

“I didn’t sip it,” Aki corrected, voice sharp. “I saw it before it touched my mouth.”

“Wow. Your reflexes are insane,” Denji said sarcastically. “What are you, a ninja?”

“You’re the one who spent the next ten minutes crying when I made you clean the whole floor.”

“That’s because you made me use bleach!”

“And he screamed,” Power added, gleeful.

“I didn’t scream,” Aki muttered, brows low. “I swore. Loudly. That’s different.”

“You dropped the mug,” Denji grinned. “And you jumped, like, this high.” He held his hand up to midair.

God, you could picture it.

“You’re lucky I didn’t strangle you both,” Aki said flatly.

You were mid-laugh when you brought your hand up to your mouth to stifle the giggles. The sudden movement was just enough to knock your elbow into the edge of your bowl — and in an instant, hot broth sloshed forward and spilled over the lip.

Right onto Aki.

Your heart stopped.

“Oh, shit–!” you gasped.

You shot up, grabbing a napkin from the dispenser like a soldier going into battle. You didn’t even stop to consider how it might look – how it might feel – until it was already happening. You were leaning over Aki, dabbing insistently at the front of his shirt, his thighs, his…

Your hand froze.

His blue eyes met yours, sharp and unreadable, and you felt something under your skin seize.

You looked down. Your palm hovered right over his lap. Too low. Too personal.

Your stomach dropped like a stone.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, snapping upright. “I didn’t—I didn’t even think—”

The entire table was dead silent. Denji had his mouth full of noodles, frozen mid-chew, wide-eyed. Power was grinning like she’d just been gifted front-row seats to the most scandalous performance on Earth.

You blinked hard, heat climbing the sides of your neck.

Oh my fucking God.

I’m on a roll, aren’t I?

“We’re gonna grab some napkins from the bathroom,” Himeno announced suddenly, voice far too casual. Her eyes flicked toward you with that too-knowing sparkle. “Okay?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Yep. Right behind you.”

You followed her down the narrow hallway, the sound of clinking bowls and low conversation fading behind you. Your face was burning. Your hands felt clammy. You knew what was coming before the bathroom door even clicked shut behind the two of you.

Himeno leaned against the sink, arms crossed over her chest, one hip cocked. Her smirk was the same one she wore every time she caught someone slipping – playful, merciless, and gleaming with interest.

“I knew it,” she said simply.

Your eyes widened. “Knew what?”

She tilted her head, mock-innocent. “You like him.”

Fuck.

You let out a weak, incredulous laugh, trying – failing – to play it off. “What are you even talking about?”

“Oh, come on.” Himeno rolled her eyes. “You were practically in his lap just now, wiping down his–” she made a vague gesture and laughed, “--his everything like it was no big deal.”

“I panicked,” you muttered. “It was an accident.”

“Sure,” she said, nodding slowly. “Except, you know, most people don’t react to spilling food by reaching straight for the goods.”

I’m gonna die.

I’m gonna crawl into a ball on top of the toilet and rot.

You covered your face with both hands. “Please stop talking.”

“Why? It’s cute,” Himeno teased, stepping closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “You’ve been making googly eyes at each other for weeks. I just didn’t know it was mutual.”

What the fuck?

You peeked at her between your fingers. “It’s not mutual.”

“Oh, babe.” She grinned. “He looks at you like you hung the moon. He’s just too emotionally constipated to do anything about it.”

She’s delusional.

Your breath hitched a little at that. She was wrong. Wrong about Aki. Wrong about the way he looked at you sometimes when he thought you weren’t paying attention – with that quiet, lingering stare that felt like it saw through skin and bone.

It just… it wasn’t romantic, you know?

“I like him,” you finally admitted. “Okay? I like him.”

“And he’s the mystery guy, isn’t he?” she asked, lifting one brow. “The one you won’t name.”

She doesn’t let up, does she? For a moment, you debated telling her. Hell, she had gotten this far. But, then again, the thought of her knowing that Aki was the elusive mystery man – the one who took you on kinky escapades and pushed you past your limits… 

Your stomach clenched. You forced a breath through your nose and shook your head. “No. That’s someone else.”

Not today.

She looked like she didn’t believe you, not for a second. But to your relief, she didn’t push. She only gave you a long, thoughtful look and then shrugged one shoulder, like she was granting you a little space to keep your secret intact.

Then, slowly, she reached for the paper towel dispenser, grabbing a handful.

“Alright,” she said, smirking again. “But if you ever do decide to tell him about the whole liking-him thing? I want to be there when it happens.”

You laughed softly, the sound a little shaky. “You just want front-row seats to the disaster.”

She’s onto me.

“Obviously.”

You lingered a moment longer, letting the quiet settle. Then you looked up at yourself in the mirror and straightened your shirt, patting down the places where your panic had wrinkled the fabric. Himeno waited for you, patient in her own way, watching without judgment.

And you couldn’t help but think — if only she knew the truth. If only she knew that it wasn’t just a crush. That it wasn’t just looks and longing. That behind all the glances and the jokes and the tension, there was something real. Something unspoken. Something complicated and off-limits and undeniable. Something even you weren’t sure you had the words to explain.

But for now, she didn’t have to know.

And you weren’t ready to tell her.

Not yet.

You stepped out of the bathroom behind Himeno, trying not to look as flustered as you felt. She’d just cornered you, smiling like she knew every secret you’d ever tried to keep. You hadn’t confirmed anything about Aki. Not really. But you didn’t deny it either.

Back at the booth, she’d taken your seat. Now the only spot left was beside him.

Fuck my life. Fuck my entire life.

You slid in without a word, thigh brushing his. He didn’t move. Neither did you.

Himeno launched into a story—something about a mission, a devil, some rookie mistake—but you barely registered it. Your focus was on the heat radiating off Aki’s body, the way his cologne curled around your senses, the quiet tension that always simmered between you. Worse now. Stronger.

God, he’s intoxicating.

You didn’t look at him, but you felt him. Every breath. Every shift. His arm grazed yours and your pulse jumped.

He reached across the table for a napkin – deliberately slow, brushing your fingers. Wiped his hands. Then, without a word, took the pen from the check holder and scribbled something quickly onto its white surface.

You felt it slide into your lap.

Your heart tripped over itself.

Everyone was still listening to Himeno, heads turned. You unfolded the note under the table.

I want to see you tonight.

You didn’t look up. Instead, you folded the napkin and slid it into your pocket. The front one, this time, though his letter from earlier sat like a harsh reminder in your back pocket. You glanced at him, as if to acknowledge that you’d read it, but said nothing more.

No, you didn’t have to.

You knew as much as he did that you would always make time for him.

5:15 PM

YOU: You still wanna see me tn? I just got off of work.

AKI: Of course. Can I come over?

YOU: like, to my apartment?

AKI: Where else?

YOU: asshole.

YOU: okay. sure. When do you get out?

AKI: Around 7. Sound good to you?

YOU: Bring booze?

AKI: Make that 7:30.

Sure enough, at 7:45 on the dot, there was a knock at your door. Naturally, as you had spent the past two hours or so pacing the length of your apartment and fussing over its appearance (as well as your own). Eventually, once you had sufficiently cleaned the place from top to bottom, you left yourself with very little time to figure out a suitable outfit. So little time, in fact, that the moment you tossed the doors of your closet open, you heard it.

Knock, knock.

Your heart leapt at the sound. Smoothing over your uniform – because, yes, you were still in your work clothes, God – you shuffled over to the front door of your apartment and undid the lock. Then, you turned the knob, and…

Fuck, there he was. Looking as pretty as ever, head damn near brushing the top of your door, eyes droopy. In his hand, he had two bags – assumedly filled to the brim with the booze you had asked him to bring. He was breathtaking.

And, most importantly, he looked drained.

“Hey,” He offered.

You offered a smile back, “Hey. You look tired.”

“You have no idea,” he muttered, and you watched him tilt his head to the side until his neck cracked audibly. The sound made you wince on instinct, even though you’d seen him do it dozens of times before. Still, something about the motion felt more vulnerable tonight—like his whole body was trying to shake something off.

You stepped aside and pulled the door open wider. “You can drop your stuff on the counter,” you said, voice casual. “I’m gonna shower.”

He slipped past you without another word, his shoulder brushing against yours. It felt hotter than it should have, considering how cold he usually ran. You shut the door behind him, locking it out of habit, and headed down the narrow hallway without looking back.

“Cool,” he said behind you, his voice following. “I’m coming too.”

You stopped, fingers halfway to the bathroom light. You looked over your shoulder. “Seriously?”

He just blinked at you, expression unreadable. 

You gave a long-suffering sigh that wasn’t exactly sincere, but your chest felt a little tighter anyway. You didn’t argue. Of course you didn’t.

God, this is so fucking insane.

The light buzzed overhead when you flicked it on. That familiar yellow cast that made everything look warmer than it was. The vent hummed to life in the ceiling, a little too loud for the small space. You turned the faucet, adjusting the heat until the water came down in steady rivulets, fogging up the corners of the mirror.

Why am I so nervous?

It’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked before…

You peeled your shirt over your head with a quiet sigh, back still to him. Then your fingers hesitated at the waistband of your pants.

“Turn around,” you said, not looking. “Please.”

A beat passed. You heard the creak of the vinyl floor as he shifted.

Then: “Okay.”

You glanced to the side just enough to catch the angle of his shoulder. He really had turned. The sight made something flutter and catch in your ribs.

You undressed quickly, stepping out of your clothes and into the tub before your thoughts could catch up with your body. The water was hot, almost too hot, and you let it run down your back like a reset.

This is insane. This is insane and so wildly outside of the parameters we set.

You stood still under the spray, forehead tilted toward the tile, eyes shut. You could still feel him in the other room. Just a few feet away. Breathing.

Oh, God.

You were just beginning to relax when you heard it: the soft rustle of the shower curtain sliding open. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Deliberate.

Your eyes opened slowly. But you didn’t turn.

A moment later, you felt him. Felt his warmth behind you. Felt the tender kiss he pressed to the back of your neck, like he felt it belonged there.

And, just like that, any concern you previously had melted right off of your shoulders.

There was no question in the way you kissed him. No lead-up. No pause.

Just the way your hands slid up his bare chest, and the way his fingers came to rest gently at your hips as your mouths met—soft, then not so soft. Like neither of you wanted to admit how much you’d needed this. How much you missed him, even when he was right in front of you.

He pulled back first, just an inch, his forehead nearly brushing yours. You looked at each other like that for a long second, the steam making everything a little hazy. His eyes searched yours—quiet, cautious.

Then he reached behind him.

Grabbed the shampoo.

Poured a bit into his hand. “Can I?” he asked, voice low, almost shy in the echo of the bathroom. He was already stepping closer, one palm hovering just above your scalp, waiting.

You nodded. You didn’t trust your voice to hold steady.

His fingers were careful, threading through your hair slowly, gently—circling at your temples, behind your ears, cradling the back of your head like it was something fragile.

And it confused the fuck out of you.

He was never like this before. Never soft. Never slow. He was controlled. Sharp. Stoic to a fault.

So what the hell was this?

You stood still, eyes closed, trying not to shiver at the way his hands handled you like you mattered. Like this wasn’t just some quiet moment under hot water. Like it meant something.

And the worst part?

You loved it. You fucking loved it.

When he was done, he tilted your chin back gently, easing your head under the stream to rinse the soap from your hair. One hand stayed firm at your neck, steadying you, fingers curled lightly against your skin.

You kept your eyes closed, your hands wrapped loosely around his wrists. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

Fuck, this is nice.

But the silence between you wasn’t empty.

It told you that maybe he wasn’t as in control as he let on. Maybe this was his first time being so intimate with a woman, too. Maybe he, too, couldn’t help but go down the rabbit hole with you.

When the last of the bubbles had rinsed away, you reached for the bottle in the corner and mirrored his movements. He didn’t ask. Didn’t have to. He ducked his head slightly as you pumped the shampoo into your palms and ran your hands carefully through his hair.

You worked slowly, mindful of the tension in his shoulders, the tight set of his jaw. You could feel it—the way he carried everything in his body. The weight of whatever he didn’t say.

His blue eyes drifted closed as you lathered his scalp up, your fingers soft against him, your body pressed just close enough to feel the shift in his breath. You stood on your toes without thinking, trying to reach, one hand braced against his shoulder for balance. He didn’t move. Just let you touch him. Let you take care of him.

And for once, he let it show—how much he needed that.

He was a human, too.

Still, if you would have told the you from two months ago that this would be going down in your bathroom, she would have told you that you were crazy.

You tilted his head back under the water, careful, rinsing the suds from his hair while the water coursed down his back and over his face. One hand steadied him at his jaw, the other brushed through his hair to guide the last of the shampoo away. His lashes stayed wet and dark, his brows relaxed. Like the weight he'd been carrying had finally slipped off.

You’d never seen him like this before.

So… vulnerable?

Then again, you hadn’t been this open with another person in God knows how long.

You had spun together without thinking. It was instinct, the way your bodies moved around each other—wordless, fluid—until he was standing beneath the stream of water, eyes blinking through the droplets that gathered on his lashes. You watched him for a second too long, breath caught somewhere in your throat, every nerve tuned to the warmth radiating off him and the space he took up so effortlessly.

Then he kissed you.

Slow. Measured. Like he had all the time in the world and planned to waste it here, on you.

His hand settled at the small of your back, and it lingered there – entirely too casual, like he didn’t know what it did to you. Like he didn’t know how you’d been thinking about him since the second he walked through your door. But he did. You knew he did.

The kiss deepened, and the ache in your chest returned with a vengeance (because of course it did).

When he pulled back, his face was a little too close, eyes a little too warm. You swore the steam had nothing on the heat flooding your cheeks.

“You come in here just to bang, or do you actually wanna get clean?” you muttered with a half-smile, trying to will away how breathless you sounded.

A smirk tugged at his mouth. “I wasn’t thinking that at all. Maybe you’re the one who needs to get clean.”

You turned from him, feigning indifference, fighting the grin tugging at your lips. “You’re such an ass.”

He didn’t deny it.

You barely made it two steps before his hand curled into your wet hair. Not harsh, just firm enough to stop you mid-motion. A quiet gasp caught in your throat, spine straightening on instinct. You knew that grip too well by now. He wasn’t pulling you to hurt. He was pulling you back. Back to him.

You let him.

Your breath trembled as you turned, gaze flicking up to meet his. And there it was again – want, plain and sharp in the slant of his eyes. Something possessive. 

He kissed you before you could even blink.

It was wetter this time, messier from the water that streamed over both of you. His hand slid around your waist, your back meeting the wall with a soft, echoing thud. You weren’t even pretending anymore – your fingers clutched his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing the anchor of his body to keep from floating out of yourself entirely. There was an ache between your legs, a warmth that seemed to come only when he was around.

“Aki,” you breathed between kisses, giggling softly, “let go.”

But you didn’t mean it. No, of course you didn’t.

You didn’t push him away.

Because the truth was, neither of you had any idea how to stop. You were too far gone, too wrapped up in this fucking… thing that wasn’t supposed to happen, wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

You had rules. Boundaries. No strings. No feelings.

And yet – here you were.

Trapped between tile and temptation, letting him kiss you like it was the only honest thing either of you knew how to do. Letting him touch you like you belonged to him. Like this was more than a secret. More than a mistake.

You knew you were both lying to yourselves. But, fuck it.

You melted into him anyway.

It was warm in your apartment. Well, it may have been the four beers in your system. That, or it could have been the very shirtless Captain Hayakawa lounging next to you on your old sofa, donning nothing more than a pair of shorts you leant him. His head was tossed back, draining the last few droplets out of a can of beer. A bead of water slipped off of his hair and rolled down the apex of his neck. You watched it with a strange sort of hunger, eyes trailing the path of the water as it dripped down his bare, chiseled chest.

On the TV, the news was on. You hadn’t decided on a movie, yet. Nor had you paid any real attention to anything that the channel covered in the past few minutes. You watched Aki set the empty can down and reach for another. Strong arms tensed while he popped the thing open, flexed as brought the thing up to his lips, relaxed as he set it down beside him and let his head roll back over the top of the couch.

He was painfully beautiful, you thought, even now – with nothing more than the light of the television to illuminate the sharp slopes of his face, with drops of water clinging to his lashes like dew. His eyes were tired, so tired.

“Tiring day at work?” You finally asked.

He nodded. Didn’t speak. Just nodded, and let his head fall sideways, eventually settling it against your shoulder like it belonged there.

Okay, what the fuck is going on?

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe, almost. Just stared at the TV, heart doing laps in your chest, wondering what it meant that he did this so easily—rested on you like he trusted you, like he needed to be close.

Minutes passed. His breath evened out. Your eyes burned from not blinking.

And then he stirred, slowly, and turned his face into your neck.

His fingers brushed your cheek, found a piece of hair and tucked it behind your ear. A gentle, careless kind of intimacy. Familiar. Soft.

It made your stomach twist.

You didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“What is this?”

His fingers paused in your hair.

He didn’t pull back. He didn’t speak, either.

You shifted to look at him, pulling away enough to see his face. “Because you tell me there’s no feelings. You tell me this isn’t a thing. And I’ve tried—I’ve really tried to believe that.”

He blinked, once. Jaw tight. You kept going.

“But then you do all of this nice shit,” you said, voice cracking just a little. “You call me for no reason. You come over even when you’re tired. You–” You laughed, bitterly. “You shower with me and wash my fucking hair. That’s not—”

“That’s not fair, Aki,” You shook your head. “I need to know what this is.”

“I don’t even know anymore,” he said quietly, eyes flicking away from you. 

“Of course you don’t.” You leaned back, putting space between you. “Because it’s easier for you if we don’t talk about it, right? If I don’t ask what this is, if I just keep playing along like none of this is confusing as hell for me.”

His lips parted, but nothing came out.

“You get to touch me like you care about me,” you went on, hurt bleeding through your voice, “and then pretend none of it meant anything once your head clears.”

Yeah, tell his ass!

“I never said it didn’t mean anything,” he snapped suddenly, sitting up. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then what does it mean?” You met his gaze, your voice too loud now. “What the hell am I supposed to make of this, Aki? Because I’m not just some—convenient body to crash into when you’re tired and lonely.”

He ran a hand down his face, agitated. “You’re not,” he muttered. “You know you’re not. God, you’re so much more than that.”

“Then tell me what I am!” You asked, exasperated, “Tell me what we are? I can’t be tangled in purgatory forever.”

He looked at you like he hated that you were asking. Like the answer scared him as much as it scared you.

“I can’t,” he said finally, voice low. “I don’t know what we are. I can’t… I can’t stay away from you. I don’t know what I feel, but I– I don’t know– Fuck, I don’t know, okay?”

You laughed, hollow and sharp. “Right. Because if you say it out loud, it becomes real. And real things can hurt you.”

“Don’t—” He stood abruptly, ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t turn this into some therapy session.”

“You’re the one who keeps acting like this matters and then pretending it doesn’t,” you said, standing too. “You want me close, but you won’t let me in. You kiss me like you mean it and then shut down the second I ask why.”

His eyes locked on yours. Angry. Defensive. But beneath all of it—tired.

“You think this is easy for me?” he said, tone just a notch higher. “You think I don’t feel that something’s off here?”

“Then why won’t you just say it?” you whispered.

“Because we agreed,” He replied. “This can’t be anything.”

Silence fell between you like glass shattering across the floor.

Neither of you moved.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked at you like he wanted to reach for you, but couldn’t.

“But you keep on coming around. Why? Why can’t you just leave me alone if it’s so fucking hard to make sense of it?” You blinked at him, blinked away the water pooling at the corners of your eyes. “It’s not fair to me that you keep playing this game of push-and-pull with me. You don’t get to want me and keep pretending you don’t.”

Aki took another sip of his beer. “You’re acting like you don’t agree to see me. You could wake up one day and decide you don’t need me making a mess in your life and, to be honest, I wouldn’t blame you,” He sighed. “I’m emotionally unavailable, I’m a confusing mess– I told you that we were bad for each other, and yet here we are.”

“I know,” You cried out, “You think I haven’t gone over every reason why I shouldn’t answer your texts? Why I shouldn’t keep seeing you?”

Aki set the can down on the coffee table with a soft thud. He didn’t look at you. Just stared ahead at the TV, eyes half-lidded, unreadable. He always did that – retreated inward the second things got real.

“But I do,” you went on, bitter now. “I always do. Because I’m weak when it comes to you. Because even when I’m mad, even when I want to scream at you for being so fucking cold, I still want you close.”

He finally turned his head toward you. “I get that feeling. I really do.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls you fuck, Aki,” You sighed, tired and fed up, and–

“I’ve never had this before,” Aki swallowed. “Otherwise, I think I’d know how to handle it.”

Oh.

The silence stretched on a moment longer than what was comfortable for you.

“You were right,” you murmured, barely able to look at him. “This was a stupid idea.”

The words scraped your throat on the way out, like you’d swallowed glass just to say them. And maybe you had. It hurt to admit it, even though part of you had known all along. That this wouldn’t work. That it was already unraveling at the seams. That you had handed your heart to someone who had never promised to hold it gently.

You should have walked away. You should have ended it now, before you got hurt.

And yet, even as the words left your mouth, you could feel his presence pressing into the space between you two. The way he was leaning against the couch, a steady breath in the quiet air. His eyes were tired, worn from a day that had clearly drained him, but there was something else in the way his lips tugged upward just barely as he turned to face you, something that made you ache with the softest of yearnings.

You wished you could say that he didn’t care.

But that was the problem. He did care, in his own way, but it was never the way you needed. It was fragments. Patches. Always just enough to keep you from walking away, but never enough to make you feel safe in the storm of your feelings. He’d kiss you like you meant something, press his lips into your neck like it was his silent apology, but then disappear back into himself before you could ask if this meant something more.

God, you hated this.

Because you couldn’t even despise him for it. No, you knew that he was just as confused as you were.

Aki didn’t answer right away, not for a long stretch of time. He just stared at the TV. The empty space between you felt like a weight you couldn’t shake, yet there was something about his silence that seemed… tender. Unfamiliar?

“Yeah, it was stupid,” he finally said, the words thick like he had been chewing them for far too long. His voice was low, calm, and yet it carried an edge. “But we both knew that.”

“I mean, look at us.” You let out a small, humorless laugh, folding your arms tightly across your chest. “We don’t even know what we’re doing. This – whatever this is – it’s horrible. For both of us.”

His gaze flicked toward you, then dropped back to his lap. A beat of silence passed before he nodded, quiet and slow. “Yeah.”

But neither of you moved. Not away from each other. Not toward anything either. You just sat there, paralyzed in the limbo of everything unsaid.

You were supposed to mean those words. You did mean them. You knew the danger of being this close to someone who couldn’t love you back the way you wanted. Who gave you fragments and silence, and yet somehow, it was still enough to keep you hanging on.

“So why not?” His voice broke the stillness, soft but heavy. He wasn’t looking at you. “Why not leave? I wouldn’t hate you for it. I couldn’t. In fact, I think I’d probably do the same thing. Just say the word, and we’ll go back to the way things were.”

Because I miss you when you’re gone, even when I swear I don’t.

Because I replay every touch, every look, every moment where it felt like maybe you cared a little too much. 

Because you looked at me like I meant something – and I believed it, even when I shouldn’t have.

You felt your throat close up.

Because I…

“I don’t know,” you said, voice hoarse with the weight of everything unsaid. “I just... I don’t want to stop seeing you.”

He let out a short, bitter laugh. The kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

You turned to look at him then, brows furrowing. “Why?”

His jaw flexed, like he was biting something back. He took a breath, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it would make saying this easier. “Because I don’t either,” he said. “I was hoping you’d tell me to go away. Make the decision for both of us.”

Your chest ached, a dull, familiar pressure. 

God, you were tired. Tired of pretending this was casual. Tired of acting like you didn’t want more. Tired of kissing him like it was the last time, every time.

You breathed out, tried to steady your voice, because you had no intention of putting an end to whatever this was. “We’re screwed, then, aren’t we?”

Aki turned his head to look at you again. And this time, he held your gaze. Really held it.

“Probably,” he said.

And still, neither of you moved. 

No, that night, you and Aki slept on the couch together – slept with your back to his chest and his arm draped around your body like a shield. Like you would disappear if he let go.

a/n: puts on therapy glasses... so... how did that make yall feel? LMFAO! omg i promise there is more coming and this is not the end of this argument, don't you worry. but ugh what did we think my heart burns for them i hate them both so much like just SHUT UP AND KISS. ugh. anyway thank you all again for being sosososo patient, now that i'm home for the summer, i'll stock up on chapters so we dont have an absence like this again.  Also... new aki oneshot coming soon. keep ur pretty eyes peeled bb ;)) yk itll be juicy. x

credits: einruji__ on twitter . 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!

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wanna join the taglist? | pornstar ; chapter index

[dark-alice-lilith]

Kiss prompt for bucktommy, please:

29: as a promise

Took me a minute but here you go!! You get the honor of having my 100th 911 fic!!🥳

Also, me not realizing until posting that I named it the same name as your bday gift to me.😭

Also on AO3

“If I asked you to marry me, what would you say?”

Buck heard Tommy suck in a breath behind him, his body going rigid. They were curled up in bed, Tommy pressed against his back, arm wrapped loosely around Buck’s waist. The seconds ticked by and Buck could feel his anxiety rising. It was an impulsive ask, especially as they were floating in this inbetween where they weren’t quite back together.

“Evan,” Tommy finally says, his voice quiet and sad.

Buck gave a heavy sigh and pulled himself away from Tommy, sitting up against the headboard, his knees against his chest. He didn’t look at Tommy. “I know that we haven’t defined this thing between us, but you keep ending up here. We rarely sleep alone anymore. We’re always together.”

Slowly, Tommy sat up next to Buck, mirroring his pose. “We’re grieving.”

“I think it’s more than that,” Buck said, looking over at Tommy to see him looking back. He looked cautious but not ready to bolt. “We want to be together, Tommy. I want to be with you.”

“Evan, why are you bringing up marriage? Even if we had made this official between us, it would still be too soon.”

“Because I can still see myself having a future with you,” Buck answered. “Because I’m in love with you. Because I loved you this whole time and I should have told you before.”

He watched as Tommy’s eyes widened, surprise clear on his face. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he looked away, staring at a spot on the wall.

“Tommy,” Buck said after a few minutes of silence. “Do you love me?”

Tommy took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I knew within a month of us dating that I was in love with you.”

“Then we both left things unsaid, but we tried to hit that reset button that night we hooked up,” Buck said. “And I know I lashed out, but Tommy, you could never be just sex to me. It was never just sex between us.”

Tommy looked his way again, tears shining in his eyes. “Evan, I’m not ready.”

“You weren’t ready because you thought I was in love with my best friend.” Tommy made a quiet wounded sound. “You really still think that, don’t you?” Tommy nodded with a guilty look on his face. Buck frowned. “He’s not the one I ran to for comfort. He’s not the one I want next to me, holding me. He’s not the one I let see me breakdown. It’s you, Tommy. You’re the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Buck scooted a little closer and brought his hand up to gently cup Tommy’s cheek. He felt Tommy push into the touch. “I don’t know how to convince you that you’re it for me, but I promise you that you are.”

Tommy’s eyes were full of emotions as Buck leaned in. He stopped a couple inches away from Tommy’s lips, giving the man the chance to back away. When he didn’t, Buck pressed his lips to Tommy’s in a soft kiss.

After a second, he felt Tommy’s hand slide up his arm and wrap around the back of his neck as he kissed back.

They hadn’t kissed since the night of their hookup, besides a couple of comforting kisses Tommy would press to his temple when he was breaking down.

When their lips parted, Buck pressed his forehead against Tommy’s feeling his heart beat fast.

“Tommy, if I asked you to marry me, what would you say?”

“Yes.”

[rj-anderson]

I've just realized I never posted another update here about how we got my 93-yo mom into assisted living a couple months ago, and it is THE ABSOLUTE GREATEST STORY and I'm still just reeling with amazement over how it all came together, so here it is under the cut.

As you will know if you read my earlier posts about Mom, I've been her primary caregiver for the last few years, especially since my dad passed away in early 2020 (we were able to hold a beautiful, well attended memorial service for him right before the first lockdown, another bit of timing I am still very grateful for).

And as you will also know if you read those previous posts, Mom's mental clarity and ability to look after herself has been going downhill for the last couple years, and despite her overall sweet disposition and gratefulness for everything I was doing, by Dec. 2024 I was at my wits' end and really close to burning out. Only a blessed last-minute increase in respite care, thanks to a pilot program coordinated by my local hospital and Alzheimer's Society, enabled me to keep going while I waited and prayed for a long term care placement for Mom.

That being said, we'd already been warned that it could be up to five years before Mom got an offer, because despite her acute nerve pain attacks, chronic vertigo and increasing cognitive issues, she was not considered to be "in crisis". (I was definitely having a crisis as her caregiver, but that didn't count.) So from an outside perspective, it looked unlikely if not downright impossible that we would find a place within the next 12-18 months, unless Mom had a major health crisis.

Despite that, though, I had a strange deep-down confidence that something was going to change soon. In fact, part of me really felt sure that it would happen by spring at the latest. Now this was a bewildering feeling to have, because I am one of the least mystical woo-woo people in the world, and objectively it didn't seem likely to happen at all. So I found myself praying that God would keep me from clinging to false hopes (if they were false) and prepare me not to be discouraged or bitter if my feeling turned out to be groundless.

But I also found myself praying, "Lord, I don't how this is going to work out with Mom, but I look forward to praising you for whatever you're going to do." Because I remembered how things had gone with my Dad's care, and how the best plans I had in mind turned out to be not nearly as wise or good as the way God arranged it in the end.

Anyway, a number of things happened in December that made me question my belief that Mom would be best off in long term care, despite all the efforts I'd gone to choosing the right places for her. I took her to see the closest home on our list, thinking it would be a positive experience and put some of her fears to rest, but EVERYTHING about that tour was a disaster. It was far too big, and noisy, and overwhelming, and my mom kept saying "I could never go to a place like that, I would be totally lost. I'd rather be out on the street."

So I ended up having to take that particular home off the list, which brought our options from three down to two and made it even less likely to get a room offer. But that experience did make very clear what kind of place Mom wanted -- small, homey, quiet, and easy to navigate, with fellow residents she could talk to, and ideally some opportunity for Christian fellowship. Unfortunately, I didn't know of a single long term care home in our area that fit that description.

Until the first week of January 2025, when I joined my regular Zoom prayer meeting with three women from my old church. And as I was telling them about my difficulties, one of them said, "Oh, I wish your mom could go to the home where [a woman who also used to go to our church] is living! It would be so perfect for her!"

Now, I had heard plenty about that woman and the wonderful Mennonite assisted living home she'd moved into a few months earlier, but I never thought it could be a fit for my Mom. However, after that conversation I looked up the home's website and realized that not only was the place much closer than I'd thought it was, it sounded like they might actually be able to provide the level of care Mom needed.

I called the care home. We had a good, thorough talk about Mom's needs. I set up an appointment for a tour. And from the instant I stepped in the door, I knew this was the place our family had been praying for. Not only was it newly renovated, small, quiet and cozy, offering home-style meals and regular church services, there was a lovely vacant room with a view that immediately made me think, "This is Mom's room."

Long story short -- and skipping over a multitude of other unexpected blessings and mercies of God along the way -- we moved Mom into her new apartment in mid-February. They even allowed us to paint the room her favourite colour, and set it up with all the furniture and pictures she needed to make it feel like home, before we brought her in. And since then, she's been getting all the medical and personal care she needs, I've been able to enjoy regular visits with her while also having a life of my own again, and despite having had twelve acute pain episodes over the six months before the move, Mom has not had even one attack since she got there.

Despite all the hardships, discouragements, seeming dead ends, and other ups and downs of the past year -- even because of them, in some cases -- God has been faithful and very, very good. So I am keeping the promise I made a few months ago, when all seemed utterly hopeless, and praising Him for what He's done.

[kiyomitakada]

hi everyone so ages ago i translated watari's diary from the movie tie-in material L File No. 15 (sourced from this post by @mikami) but i just realized i never posted it here?? of all places??? so here you go! i recommend reading this translation along with the screenshots from that post since there are pictures that i did not bother actually including.

(spoilers for the live action films!)

---

QUILLISH WAMMY'S DIARY

The following diary was included in the discovered files. It is thought to have been written by Quillish Wammy (who is said to have gone by "Watari" while acting as L's intermediary), but as with the previous files, it contains information of dubious veracity.

May 7, 1973

Recently, I find myself thinking idle thoughts.

The metal I invented, which is superconducting under 28.7°C, is now used in 87% of electrical cables worldwide. It has brought me great wealth. Too much to know what to do with, I feel. No matter how much money I accumulate, there is no way to buy a human life, so I can't imagine any interesting way I could spend it.

May 12, 1973

Today, I had a revelation.

My talents mainly skew towards the sciences, and there are many things I can do with them, but also many things I cannot. But what if I use my wealth and my enthusiasm to raise new talents? Then there will certainly be one or two who can achieve things I cannot. Extremely interesting. To what extent can humans cultivate their talents? This is what I should dedicate the rest of my life to finding out.

I will gather children with talent and intelligence from all over the world — the brain develops very quickly from ages 9 to 13, so children around that age range should work best — and educate them thoroughly. Eventually, I believe, they will be able to change the world. Perhaps I will call the institution Wammy's House.

[Notes on the children]

F: Strong sense of justice, and quick to action — which is why he can make mistakes.

R: Has recently shown interest in astronomy. Has fallen asleep while looking through a telescope before, and thus contracted a cold. Twice.

K: Talented in multiple fields. Has perfectly understood almost everything I teach. I have not yet determined which area she is most skilled in — very exciting.

*1 (T/N: shaky translation): Many researchers have reason to believe members of Wammy's House are referred to by single letters of the alphabet. However, there is no consensus as to what extent these nicknames were used. Some suggest only Quillish Wammy and the person themselves recognized the nickname.

February 23, 1987

Today, I have learned a lesson. Sometimes an overly nurtured talent goes beyond the will of the person who nurtured it. [T/N: I genuinely can't tell if he's talking about the kid raising their talent or Watari raising the kid] K has left Wammy's House of her own volition. This is the first time something like this has happened since I founded Wammy's House. I feel a strong sense of loss.

---

[Notes on the children, 2]

D: Mainly talented in physics. Frequently smashes radio-controlled models, possibly to conduct their own experiments. The degree of destruction is being monitored.

P: Often found with their nose buried in a novel. I think I will try teaching them psychology once they are a little older. It would be nice if they showed some interest in profiling.

L: Invests in stocks. Clearly talented, but so far an unknown variable.

July 10, 1994

Currently, out of all the children, L holds most of my interest.

While he does show interest in existing fields of study, he is even more enthusiastic about using his own methods (adjacent to statistics) to make deductions. Right now, he is spending the most time on criminal investigations. He is working against actual human beings, which is why the cases are so complex and difficult to unravel… He seems immensely fascinated by this.

L, when in pursuit of an objective, is able to immediately determine the necessary information. L. You are my hope.

August 13, 2005

L has selected FBI agent Naomi Misora for the Los Angeles B.B. Murder Cases. It seems he did so in recognition of her bravery and deductive abilities. L dislikes unnecessary physical exertion, since he wants to keep his mind functioning as quickly as possible. Thus, he has to rely on others to act as his agents on the scene. Naomi is reliable.

[A photo of Naomi, along with the text:]

Naomi Misora FBI Investigator Achieved investigator status unusually quickly Specialty: Marksmanship Intelligent and passionate

---

February 26, 2006

I was present at an ICPO conference today. The focus was exclusively on the "Kira case." Criminals all over the world are dying of simultaneous heart attacks. Some members of the public might call this "judgment," but it is murder. L is very intrigued by this new type of crime.

*2: The Kira case, as detailed in the other files, refers to the phenomenon where criminals globally die of simultaneous heart attacks. Rumors flew around the Internet claiming that "'Kira' is our savior and carries out justice," and the name was attached to the phenomenon even though this was not actually proven yet. Since the case affected the entire world and was growing in momentum rapidly, the ICPO's response was necessarily rushed.

March 2, 2006

It seems Naomi Misora and Raye Iwamatsu are now engaged. They are planning to hold the ceremony in Japan. Naomi says she is retiring from the FBI. That took me by surprise.

I am unsure how L feels about Naomi's decision, but he has chosen her for his plan to make contact with Kira. Raye will be the driver. I'm sure Naomi will carry out the plan perfectly. Yes, L's choice is correct. But making a bride approach a murderer… making her groom drive her there…

L. That calmness in you is what I hoped for, what I raised. Still. Is hesitation not an option for you?

March 10, 2006

It's been raining since morning. It's coming down in sheets. I haven't seen such weather for a long time.

L believes there is a 97% probability Kira is in Japan, so we are headed there. Even so… Why did L say something like that? He never says things so sentimental, so unsettling… Could it be that he can see something I can't even imagine lurking in the future of this case? L, why did you say, "I might not be able to come back?" You are only in charge of directing the investigation. There's no reason to think you will come face to face with danger.

The lesson I learned from K is once again swirling in my head. Sometimes an overly nurtured talent will go somewhere I cannot follow…

L. Tell me you weren't thinking straight. Please. Tell me it was just the rain.

---

April 1, 2006

The twelve FBI agents who L ordered to tail the families and associates of the Japanese police have all died simultaneously of heart attacks. …Including Raye Iwamatsu… It was a shock, considering the pattern up to now, that Kira would kill so many human beings who weren't criminals. I think L wasn't able to predict it either.

I tried expressing my condolences to Naomi Misora over the phone, but I couldn't reach her. I am worried.

April 2, 2006

L met the Japanese investigators in person. Starting from now, he will work together with them to advance the investigation. L has never shown his real face to anyone before now. I can feel his anxiety about this case radiating off this decision. Or perhaps it's impatience?

L asked them to call him Ryuzaki.

[Notes on the Japanese investigators]

Soichiro Yagami: Chief of the task force assigned to the "Kira case." Overflowing with a particularly Japanese sense of justice. Trustworthy.

Ukita

Aizawa

Sanami: The only woman on the investigation team. A little too kind.

Mogi

Matsuda: A hot-headed young man. Slightly too presumptuous.

---

April 11, 2006

L is fixated on Light Yagami. He says that the probability of Light being Kira is only around 1% to 3%, but from his behavior, I can't help but think it must be higher. But although I suppose Light is decently intelligent, he's nothing more than a regular college student. To even consider the possibility of him being a mass murderer, there has to be some additional factor — an inconceivable one.

What is it?

Are we fighting against something entirely new?

[A photo of Light, along with the text:]

Light Yagami Student majoring in law at To-Oh University. A prodigy — he has already passed the bar exam. Hates to lose; focuses on winning in everything. His father is the chief of the task force, Soichiro Yagami.

[Memo so I don't forget my orders]

An emergency order from L. Written below so I don't make a single mistake.

Macarons (DALLOMIU) x 12 boxes

Marshmallows (MEIGI-YA) x 12 bags

Donuts (Donkin Donuts) x 12 bags

Black tea (F and N) x 12 cans

Potato chips (Golbee) (specifically BBQ flavor) x 2 bags

[T/N: The potato chips are the type Light eats in The Chip Scene — they're consomme in the original Japanese (both manga and diary) but BBQ in the Viz translation, which I'm going with.]

*3: The Donkin Donuts company shut down all its stores in Japan in 1998. Therefore, this memo conflicts with the range of time in which L and Quillish Wammy were thought to be in Japan. Whether this is a mistake on Wammy's part or an indication that the diary is of unreliable origin is still a topic of discussion.

April 15, 2006

I think the incomprehensibility of what happened today will stay with me for the rest of my life. Naomi Misora shot herself. It was after she told L, "I'll use my own life to prove that Light Yagami is Kira." But Naomi wasn't able to prove anything.

She must have, in her own way, found something confirming her theory. Considering her actions up to now, she wouldn't have made such a declaration without some kind of proof. But she took Light's girlfriend hostage at the museum. She killed her. And then she took her own life. Why would she do such a thing?

It wasn't like her. No matter how I think about it, it wasn't like her. She looked almost… confused, right before her death. Not like Naomi at all.

[Photo of Shiori, a movie-only character!]

Shiori Akino Student majoring in law at To-Oh University. Dating Light Yagami. Possesses a strong sense of justice and articulates her ideals clearly. Postscript: Was shot and killed by Naomi Misora at the Oumei Museum of Art.

*4: Naomi Misora's murder of Shiori Akino and subsequent suicide is the greatest mystery of this case. As Quillish Wammy wrote here, the question "Why did Naomi kill Shiori?" is still entirely unexplained; some have even proposed that it had no connection to the Kira case at all. Also, in regards to Shiori, it bears mentioning that some believe she was dating Light Yagami while others believe they were simply classmates.

---

April 18, 2006

The construction of the Kira Response Building is complete. We will be moving the investigation headquarters there.

[Memo with cutouts so I don't forget]

[T/N: As you can see in the Tumblr screenshots, this page of the diary is entirely filled with cutouts from advertisements showing different parts of L's outfit.]

[picture of jeans]: The feeling of a new working style, a dominating sense of existence — Loose silhouette, straight frame. Its special characteristic is the five pockets it boasts on the front. Two of the pockets are integrated into the seams on the sides for a working-style taste. There is an adjuster in the back so you can adjust the size slightly.

[T/N: I tried for ages to figure out if this meant 5 or 7 pockets total, and then I decided accurate translation of an advertisement for jeans in the tie-in material for a movie spinoff for a 2000s manga wasn't worth this effort.] [No offense, L.]

[picture of sneakers]: A strong impact! Each step brimming with confidence — These shoes are made with the ripstop fabric used in military wear. It won't tear, no matter how much you wear the shoes out. Additionally, the camo pattern is piece-dyed with black and deliberately scuffed, giving it a tasteful finished look.

[picture of white sweater]: It looks good in any season: a must buy item — Silhouette is loose enough to hide the lines of your body. The neckline is also loose, so wearing it is a delightfully relaxed experience. The white color has outstanding compatibility with denim.

[picture of Hyottoko mask] Hyottoko mask

[doodle of white bag]

[picture of a chessboard] CHESS: The definitive version of the battle of minds

---

April 29, 2006

An individual calling themselves "the Second Kira" has sent video tapes to TV stations. Their patterns are clearly different from those of the Kira who has acted up to now. According to L's theory, while the previous Kira needed a face and a name for the murder, this Kira only needs to see someone's face to kill them.

Also, Light Yagami is now part of the task force. Light can't forgive Kira for taking his girlfriend's life. He's burning with determination to solve the case. He really is a smart teenager.

I wonder which L feels more for him: sympathy or competitiveness. Even I can't tell.

*5: In this time period, there were several unexplainable events, documented by the news and TV broadcasts in Japan at the time. For example, several police officers died of sudden heart attacks near the doorstep of the TV station that was broadcasting a message from the person claiming to be "the Second Kira" (including a detective whose name appeared in the earlier "Notes on the Japanese investigators"). It is thought that L's theory that "this Kira only needs to see someone's face [...]," as documented by Quillish Wammy above, was based on this incident.

May 11, 2006

Misa Amane has been arrested under suspicion of being the Second Kira. She is in confinement. The Japanese investigators seem somewhat opposed to this method. L is feeling cornered. It makes me anxious.

[Photo of Misa Amane, smiling in a sleeveless skull-and-crossbones shirt]

Misa Amane Idol There was an advertisement on the bus for fashion magazines with her on their covers. She seems to be a rather well-known figure in Japan.

Postscript: I have acquired Misa's photo albums, CDs, and DVDs as evidence. I passed them to L. L has not informed me of any new data from this analysis, but he has been playing the CD.

---

June 2, 2006

L announced to the investigators that "as of now, I have concluded that Light Yagami and Misa Amane are not Kira."

Light will still stay in the Kira Response Building to help with the investigation. L has accepted this. Could it be that L has recognized that someone else is on his level for the first time? I am happy for him, but also have complicated feelings about this. Is it possible that Light has become L's first-ever friend?

June 9, 2006

The Kira murders continue. L has been chewing his nails more often lately.

L, you should already know this: you do not need to carry the burden of all the world's crimes on your shoulders.

June 26, 2006

Light Yagami's theory may be our breakthrough in the case. His line of investigation has turned up a name: a Sakura TV newscaster, Kiyomi Takada.

[Photo of Kiyomi Takada, smiling placidly on a news channel, hands folded together]

Kiyomi Takada Newscaster for Sakura TV

She became the current face of the news channel EVENING SPOT after her predecessor Saeko Nishiyama's sudden death in a car accident. She quickly began hosting segments supporting Kira. She lives alone in a condo within the city.

---

June 30, 2006

You could say my scientific skills have started to rust, but as an inventor who tries to always think things through logically, I am feeling bewildered. There are "Shinigami," gods of death, who exist in this world. The Shinigami each carry a notebook, which is called a "Death Note." And the human whose name is written in the Death Note will die.

What on Earth? We've been up against Shinigami this whole time?

L was shocked. Unusual for him. But when I saw that surprise on his face, I actually felt relieved. At least Wammy's House — my creation — has not taken the capability for shock away from him.

Death Note: How to Use (Rules) — a partial excerpt

[T/N: Translations mostly copied from the Death Note wiki, with minor edits]

The human whose name is written in this note shall die.

If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds (in human-realm units) of writing the person's name, it will happen.

If the cause of death is not specified, the human will simply die of a heart attack.

After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.

If the time of death is written within 40 seconds after writing the cause of death — even if the cause of death is a heart attack — the time of death can be manipulated, and the death can go into effect even less than 40 seconds after writing the name.

The note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

The owner of the note can shorten their own life by using the note.

Even someone who does not own the note can use it by writing a name and thinking of a face, with the same effect as if they were the owner of the note.

After a name is written in the note, it cannot be changed.

The time of death written in the note must be within 23 days (in human-realm units).

July 3, 2006

Misa Amane has been released from the Kira Response Building.

July 4, 2006

The strange situation of a Shinigami coming in and out of the Kira Response Building has continued. I can't help but feel restless seeing a huge, white silhouette wandering about. This Shinigami is not cooperating with us, but isn't trying to hinder us either, it seems.

There have been multiple persistent calls for L to assist with the investigation into Princess Joan's overturned yacht. But L seems uninterested in any other cases right now. I have filed the investigation requests where he won't see them.

---

July 7, 2006

[This entry was translated here by @lunalit-river. I'll copy it over, but please show some love to the original post!]

L.

Was this the outcome of giving you the opportunity to learn? Was it arrogant of me to think that I had given you everything you needed? A genius without parents or relatives, without food or education, a genius who may have had a miserable past. Was I wrong?

L wrote his name in the Death Note.

Was this all for victory? Was this all for justice?

To fight something supernatural like the Death Note, it is true that we must arm ourselves with something that is also beyond human understanding.

It is highly possible that Light Yagami will write L's name in the Death Note. In theory, L must write his name in the Death Note first to prevent Light from doing so.

But don't human emotions have a tendency to refuse to accept the truth and instead hope to twist logic and theory?

L. Don't you ever place your emotions prior to your goals?

L. I never meant for things to end this way. Your talent has surpassed mine, and now you are consuming yourself. But I…

Today I learned F's death. Am I about to lose you, too? I have never felt so powerless as I do now.

L. I am confused. When I established Wammy's House, I might not have anticipated this.

I learned a lot from being with you, L, just as parents learn a lot from their children.

L. Just one sentence is enough. Please tell me you want to live.

L. L…

July 7, 2006

L Lawliet Heart failure Dies 23 days from now, peacefully, in his sleep

---

July 10, 2006

This is the end of the case, isn't it? Everything has been arranged. I will bring Misa to headquarters, and as long as Soichiro Yagami and the other Japanese investigators do as L says, everything should go perfectly. Tonight, the Kira case will be solved.

I have learned from L, who moves towards his goal still, indifferent in the face of death. I too will not waver.

L still has 20 days left. I'll spend them with him. Not because of everything I gave him in his lifetime, but because of everything I deprived him of. I can devote all my time to him now.

L, what do you want to do? You can play silly games, if you want. You can go make friends. If you don't mind my old age, I would gladly be your friend. Or your

Do you want to see sights you've never seen before? Do you want to feel breezes you've never felt? [T/N: He switches to polite speech just for this paragraph. Back to regular now.]

Get up from that way you always sit; let's go outside. Everything I took from you — the small, the inconsequential, the boring things — and the beautiful, dear ones too: let's go find them together. It's okay if you don't have any conclusions to draw. I just want you to have fun. To love the world in front of you. To savor it.

L. That's right. Just like a father and son on holiday.

I've been writing in this diary for forty years. I think I will stop in twenty days. I can't imagine anything I would want to write about, anything I should write about, would happen after that.

Alright. I'd better go and bring Misa over.

This is where the diary ends. The Kira case has been dormant ever since the last entry here.

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

hai adi !! would u be open to writin’ for baby natty again ?? mayb where she’s super tiny an doesnt realize until she has an accident , leadin’ to a meltdown

Little!Nat - Slipping

Notes -> little!nat, cg!lottie, little!jackie, accidents, diapers, meltdown, crying, post-rescue theyallliveinabighousetogether au

Word count: 1316

It wasn’t unusual for Nat not to understand the games that the others wanted to play with her. So she didn’t really think too hard into it when the storyline Jackie was explaining for her calico critters wasn’t making any sense at all. The cat was getting a divorce, maybe? From the bunny. She wasn’t really sure. It was getting harder to hold onto Jackie’s words as they continued to play, like Nat’s head had been stuffed with cotton wool or something. It was fine, she was fine. Jackie didn’t seem to notice anyway, happy to lead the game and instruct Nat very closely on where her critter (a little mouse) should be standing. “He can maybe be friends with my bunny?” Jackie offered, waiting patiently for Nat to respond. Nat only nodded distantly, aware and apologetic that she wasn’t being much fun. “Or he can be cheating with the kitty if you’d rather?” Jackie offered.

“Ok, that sounds good,” Nat agreed, trying to make her voice sound bigger than she felt. As they continued to play, Nat let Jackie take the lead. She leant back against her heels and let Jackie play out her little scenarios as she chewed absentmindedly on her thumb nail. Jackie wasn’t usually Nat’s first go to when she was regressed, typically preferring the more rough house style play she’d find with Van or Shauna. But for some reason today she’d been craving the gentleness that playing with Jackie brought. Nat wasn’t too worried about not playing too actively with Jackie - the girl was very used to occupying herself. It gave Nat the space she needed to let her mind go a little fuzzier than usual- why, she wasn’t really sure, maybe she was just tired.

“Uh, Natty?” Jackie’s voice cut through the clouds in Nat’s head, her big doe eyes wide and worried as they looked at Nat. “Do you need the potty?” Jackie asked quietly. Nat frowned for a moment, not understanding the root of the question until she realised that she was actively squirming and holding herself. Oh. Nat nodded quickly, shame flooding her face. This was so stupid, she shouldn’t need Jackie to remind her to use the bathroom.

Nat quickly scrambled to her feet, dropping the little mouse from her hand as she stood. It was an entirely achievable 3-ish meters from the playroom to the bathroom but Nat’s mind felt hazy and her steps wobbly. She only managed two shaky little shuffles away from Jackie before she felt warmth spread down the insides of her khaki shorts. Where they had once been loose and baggy, they now clung itchily to her thighs. Her chest pounded, panic settling in quickly. No, no, no, no. It seeped down into her socks too, the dampness making her skin crawl and her stomach ache like she was going to throw up. She started to cry, which felt like the only thing in the world she knew how to do. Jackie was saying something but Nat couldn’t hear it. She just felt so stupid, so pathetic and so, so small. Nat covered her eyes with her hands, not making any attempt to move. If she maybe just stayed very still she’d be sucked up into the ground and none of this would matter. Nat felt completely hopeless. There were more voices now - worried ones that made the nauseas pit in Nat’s stomach grow. But then - over all the other voices - there was Lottie.

“Ok, thank you for getting me Mar. How about everyone goes downstairs now, you can watch tv until Tai gets home, ok? Yes, even you Van. Go on, Nat will be fine.” Lottie spoke calmly but firmly. Even after she was sure everyone else was gone, Nat couldn’t find the strength in her to remove the palms of her hands from where they pressed into her eyelids. “Natty, buddy? Can you look at Mama?” Lottie gently placed her arms on Nat’s forearms, gently guiding her hands away from her face. Nat sniffled, looking down at the small puddle she stood in with shame. Everything was so awful. She felt small, and hopeless and Lottie was still being so gentle which Nat did not deserve. She whined, thrashing her arms a little where Lottie was still holding them gently.

“Stupid, stupid,” she cried through shaky sobs, stomping her foot angrily.

Lottie moved back a little, giving Nat the space she needed. “You’re not stupid baby, you’re just feeling a little smaller than usual.” Nat sobbed roughly, choking on her own tears as exhaustion and shame took over her body. “Poor little thing, it’s ok, let’s get you cleaned up.” Lottie cooed, moving closer once Nat was done thrashing. Nat whimpered, even the idea of walking felt far too big. “Oh I know, Mama knows, you’re so small,” Lottie cooed, gently hoisting Nat up into her arms. Though it was a long time ago now, all those soccer drills had done wonders to Lottie’s strength.

Lottie carried Nat into her room, gently placing her down so she could fetch the change mat from under Nat’s bed. “Did you just not realise you had to go?” She asked gently, guiding Nat down to lay against the dinosaur patterned plastic. Nat just shrugged, pulling her thumb up to her mouth and suckling harshly. “Oh no you don’t,” Lottie laughed softly, reaching over to replace Nat’s thumb with her pacifier. It was Nat’s favourite when she was very small - a soft beige with a little brown bear on the front. “Alright, little one, let’s get you out of these icky clothes.”

Lottie started with Nat’s socks, gently pulling them off, which was an immediate relief to Natty. It took a little bit of coaxing to get Nat to assist her in getting her shorts and boxers off. Clearly, Nat was feeling smaller than usual and Lottie’s words were going right over her head. Still, they got there in the end and Lottie managed to gently wipe Nat clean with baby wipes. It certainly wasn’t the most effective method she knew for accidents like this, but it wasn’t worth the meltdown she’d face for trying to wrangle Nat into the bath in this headspace. “Should Mama get you a onesie?” Lottie cooed softly, rubbing Nat’s belly. Nat just garbled softly around her pacifier, watching Lottie with wide baby eyes. “Mm, I think so. A nice onesie and a diaper for my little baby.” Lottie reached over to Nat’s dresser picking out a onesie patterned with blue gingham from the bottom drawer and a diaper from the drawer next to it. After applying a healthy amount of lotion and baby powder, Lottie dressed Nat up. At the last minute she added a pair of sweatpants on top to offer Nat a little more dignity. “Aren’t you so cute,” Lottie cooed, helping Nat sit up. Nat whined softly at the praise but regardless, reached for Lottie. “Sure thing bud,” Lottie smiled, standing up and picking Nat up into her arms. It took more effort than she’d ever admit. “I think someone needs a nap and a bottle,” she suggested, already settling Nat down on her bed. Nat didn’t respond, happy to let her Mama make all the decisions.

Lottie tucked Nat in tightly, “I’ll be back with your baba in a minute,” Lottie promised, placing a kiss to Nat’s forehead. As promised, Lottie returned not a minute too late, Nat’s bottle - patterned with little yellow ducks - filled with milk. She slipped into bed next to the little, pulling Nat into her lap so she was supporting the back of the little’s head in the crook of her arm. She replaced Nat’s pacifier with the nipple of the bottle and used the hand that wasn’t holding the milk to Nat’s lips to find Rocky, her stuffed Woolf. “Nothing to worry about now baby, Mama’s got you.”

[rimatsu]

Hello! I'm another anon who has to thank you for your optimism and good sense all these months!

I've seen your posts about speculation and I agree with most of it;

I think Eddie will move back to LA with Chris, because I think if they were going to stay in El Paso, the show wouldn't have gone down the "Chris isn't really happy and himself when he's with his grandparents" route. Chris could have chosen to move back in with Eddie and still enjoy chess and the life his grandparents were building for him, with Eddie reconnecting with them. Instead, the idea is that the distance between Eddie and his parents might be the healthy choice for the Diaz boys.

I don't know if it's going to happen, but I would like the bucktommy conversation about moving in to come full circle, with Tommy now reprising the "why be apart when we can be together?" and asking Buck to move in with him, because now they'd both be ready and on the same page.  They're also leaving that place at Fox studio (?), and I think it would make sense to have a new location/setting (Tommy's house?), like in the past we had Michael or May's apartments. I think if May or Harry come back, they'll live with Athena now.

Otherwise, I think it's more likely that Buck will think about a transfer but decide against it (imagine a callback to the harbor tour conversation + 8x05 speech, with Tommy helping Buck to realize he didn't need to transfer+the big emergency happening) and I'd love to see Buck supporting Hen as Captain instead of competing with her, that would show maturity on his part. I just don't know if this franchise has the courage to put a black lesbian as the definitive captain, since it seems like the rule of the OG and spin-offs is to always have a white man in charge of a diverse team.

hi! you're so sweet, thank you <33 as for specs, ditto! i agree with most of yours as well:

1) in 8a, chris seemed pretty settled and content with his living arrangement, and i'm on record here saying that uprooting a teen from that stability and his new friend circle would be cruel. 813 recontextualized the situation: i doubt he'd feel too torn up about the prospect of losing that support system now. awfully convenient for eddie and any future relocation to the west coast...

2) athena's insistence that the dream house was for her and bobby rather than the family home harry and may envisioned in 814 supports your theory. that felt very pointed. she might not have initially designed floor plans with her children in mind but i can hardly see them leaving her side now. the move-in might even be permanent if may ends up joining the fire academy to keep athena directly and intimately connected to the 118 as tim suggested

3) bucktommy sharing a roof by the finale would be circular and narratively satisfying. living together was brought up twice now, and the rule of three makes one expect a third discussion on the matter

4) i believe gerrard's soft spot for buck will come back into action next episode: he'll probably recommend buck for a promotion. now i'm still of the opinion that the show has not only primed hen as the next captain of the 118 but also foreshadowed her future position in 816, so i doubt buck will do more than contemplate the option before ultimately declining, be it in s8 or early s9 (with the acknowledgment that wearing the captain hat is something he hopes to achieve one day but isn't ready for yet). hen and buck temporarily seeking the same title could be an interesting source of tension and conflict, especially if buck internalizes bobby's last words as a request to take on his mantle while hen fears the weight of his legacy. but i've said it before and i'll say it again: promoting the relatively inexperienced 34 yo white man over the qualified black woman with seniority and several stunts as acting capitan under her belt would be egregious. however they'd justify it in verse, it'd still reek of misogynoir. now if you ask me, it's specifically because nashville has cast another white male as its lead that i think og can "afford" to part with that tried-and-true formula. they've already shaken the status quo with bobby's death. if anyone wants to see another bone-ash pasty guy give orders, they can check out the new spin-off or ls. at the dawn of s9, 911 is taking risks and trying new things: i'd say now is the perfect time for a black lesbian capitan

[coraniaid]

buffy/willow and/or kennedy/faith

Buffy/Willow is definitely the more interesting option of those two to me. I don't quite ship it (for reasons I'll get into) but I can imagine a world in which I did pretty easily.

1) Why don't you ship it?

Honestly I think the main reason for not shipping it is just that I've not read any take on Buffy/Willow that really leans into the things I find potentially fun or interesting about the idea of the two of them getting together?

I mean, I've not really seen much Buffy/Willow content at all, but what I have seen tends to focus on AUs where Buffy and Willow slowly realize they have other-than-platonic feelings for each other in Season 4 (before Willow meets Tara) or even earlier, and that sort of best-friends-to-lovers, slowly figuring out your own sexuality in a careful and healthy way thing just isn't something I find that interesting for these two? Buffy Summers is so, so repressed and tightly wound and yet at the same time quite genuinely convinced she is (in her own words!) "pretty easy going", while Willow's dreams in Nightmares and Restless suggest on some level she views her entire life as an elaborate public performance where she has to always be wearing the right outfit and saying the right thing or people will see the real her and despise her. If you're going to ship them, why not let them be weird about it?

Also, while I do think Buffy and Willow's relationship in canon is significantly more compelling than Buffy's connection to either Giles or Xander (on pretty much every level imaginable), at the same time I think it damages the dynamics of the Core Four a bit too much if Buffy and Willow actually became some of sort of official couple. I don't put quite as much stock in the Mind/Heart/Spirit reading as some people, but I do think it's an interesting one and I think an actual canon ship would have distracted from that.

And finally I think I just strongly prefer Buffy/Faith and -- while I don't think it's impossible to like more than one incompatible ship at a time -- I guess I'd feel bad for Faith if she ever learned that Buffy was into women after all but was dating Willow of all people.

2) What would have made you like it?

To be clear I haven't ever really given this that much thought before today (except perhaps for that kind of flippant idea I mentioned a year or two ago for an AU in which vamp!Willow comes back in Season 4, gets caught by the Initiative and ends up getting chipped instead of Spike). So, fair warning, this is going to be a kind of rambling answer. But I think it's mostly a question of timing and context. They have to get together after having known each other for a while and in circumstances where it is very obviously not a good idea for either of them. I want messy drama and tears and conflict in my ship, after all.

I think, if I could choose, I'd go for something post-Bargaining, after Buffy has died and been unwilling brought back to life and Willow has at least started on the path down to becoming irrevocably changed by her overuse of magic. As I've noted before, Season 6 is the closest the show ever comes to treating Buffy and Willow as (almost) co-protagonists, as opposed to the previous seasons where Willow is more clearly Buffy's sidekick (even if she sometimes rankles in that role). I think that's when a hypothetical ship is most interesting narratively: when they're at their closest to being genuine foils and having similar character arcs. And I think a relationship when they're both going through some of the worst months of their life would be kind of fun (for me, anyway). There's still some weird power imbalance stuff going on, but it's not at all one-sided.

Let's say things start to diverge from canon around Once More With Feeling. Willow's relationship with Tara is already on the rocks a little at this point -- they're arguing about magic for sure, and maybe Willow has already used the memory loss spell on Tara -- but for her part Willow is still sure she can turn everything back to normal [with magic, naturally] if she just makes a bit more of an effort.

Instead of Buffy being forced by magic to publicly admit that she wasn't in a hell dimension in front of all her friends, something else (non-magical) happens which makes her admit it privately to Willow. Maybe Willow just casually says something to Buffy about how awful her time in hell must have been which makes her snap? That way there's already this terrible secret that ties them together (well, Spike knows too, but I don't think Buffy tells Willow that he knows and it's not like Willow and Spike are hanging out socially).

Obviously Willow is devastated to find out she wasn't saving her friend from a hell dimension after all, as in canon, but she Buffy almost immediately get into a pretty vicious fight when Willow suggests using magic to fix things (again). A furious Buffy tells her how much she hates being back in the world and how far away from "fixed" she feels. Everything she told Spike in After Life, but this time putting the blame solely on Willow. How she "wishes she could feel anything" and she should never have been forced to come back because she knew in heaven that "everyone she cared about was all right". At which point Willow breaks down in tears and insists that that can't be true; that Willow herself wasn't ever "all right" over the summer Buffy was gone, and how could she have been when her best friend was dead? And she admits to Buffy how much she missed her and needed her to come back, "because I couldn't look after everyone myself, and you're my best friend, and I love you."

And then Buffy kisses Willow. And Willow's into it, just for a second, but then she breaks away like she's suddenly remembering cheating on Oz in high school, and she stammers that she didn't mean it that way and she "can't do this to Tara". And Buffy watches her run off without saying anything, and she can't quite figure out why she did that: was it because she just wanted to feel something, or because she's somehow changed after coming back to life, or because a part of her always wanted to but never let herself admit it? Does she actually feel anything for Willow? Is she angry at her or in love with her or both (or neither?). And now the kiss is one more awkward secret that they share (because who's Buffy going to confide in, exactly? Dawn? her new friends at the Doublemeat Palace, once she starts working there? Tara?).

Then, later, after Tara and Willow's relationship collapses anyway (for much the same reasons it does in canon), and Tara moves out, Buffy and Willow start secretly hooking up again. Because Buffy still hasn't adjusted to being back in the world, and because Willow hates being alone and part of her wants to prove she was right all along and that she can make Buffy happy (and, maybe, that she's more than just Buffy's sidekick but somebody just as powerful and special and important as her).

And, while they're spending time alone together, maybe Buffy gradually starts letting Willow try to use magic to "fix" her a little bit after all: instead of Willow getting the magic addict subplot and Rack and bringing Amy back, maybe it's Buffy who starts needing magic more and more in order to feel comfortable in her own skin and be able to get through the day. Not to forget that she was in heaven, but to have brief access to those same comforting fantasies that everything's actually fine for everyone. Willow doesn't try to go cold turkey this time, at least not right away, but she does try to hide her use of magic more (which is tied into all her other secrets). Maybe in this AU Normal Again happens not because of a demon or the Trio but because Willow messes up while trying to cast a spell that's supposed to just give Buffy comforting dreams about a happier time in her life.

And sure, there are some echoes of Buffy/Spike at work here, and of the hypothetical Amy/Willow S6 ship I talked about a few days ago -- Buffy is partly just trying to feel something, and Willow is rebounding from Tara in the worst, messiest way she can. But Willow and Buffy have so much complicated history already -- they both really do care about each other a lot, more than either of them can say, whatever else is going on in their lives -- and I think that makes things more compelling to me. A ship where both participants feel like they're the one wrongly taking advantage of the other, that they're somehow selfishly letting their best friend down. And perhaps part of Buffy still wishes she hadn't been resurrected at all, but the one person who can make her feel fleetingly happy again is the very person most responsible for her being back. That's pretty compelling, to me anyway.

Then, at some inopportune point, everyone finds out anyway (and maybe the others finds out about Buffy having been in heaven at the same time). And of course Xander is weird about it, and Dawn is appalled, and Tara is heartbroken (because hasn't Willow been telling her how uniquely special and amazing Buffy is since they first met? hasn't it always been clear to her that Buffy and Willow are part of an inner circle she'll never get to join? no wonder Willow chose Buffy over her; no wonder she'll always choose Buffy over her). But Willow still does love Tara, she knows this thing with Buffy can't be good for either of them, and she promises Tara she'll stop doing magic or spending any time alone with Buffy.

And for a while things are just incredibly uncomfortable, because Willow moves back to the dorms and nobody is talking to anyone. But then Warren shoots Buffy, and Willow goes on her whole Dark Willow arc thinking Buffy is dead (but actually Tara uses magic to save her, the same sort of forbidden magic Willow used to bring her back to life months earlier -- because Tara did choose to resurrect Buffy in the first place, despite knowing the arguments against it and how it had to be done, and maybe she's not that different from Willow after all -- only it takes her a while so neither of them can talk Willow down and Xander does it, as in canon [but without some of the sillier parts of that plot: no secret master plan on Giles' part this time please]).

And yeah, this wouldn't be a fun time for either of them but I think it could be fun to read about. Because it would be messy, and complicated, and painful, and I guess that's the sort of ship I like.

Alternatively I could imagine a Season 7 AU, where Season 6 played out as in canon, in which Buffy and Willow just gradually fall for each after Willow comes back to Sunnydale. (Starting from that final power sharing scene in Same Time Same Place, I guess.)

I don't really think there's as much potential for drama here, but I do think this is the point a relationship between the two of them would feel most organic. We know Buffy's type is former villains trying to find redemption, after all, and that's what Willow has become now.

And I do rather like Kennedy/Willow, as I've said before, but it's certainly true that Buffy and Willow really don't interact enough this season. So as an excuse for making them do that, if nothing else, I guess having them gradually fall in love this season works as well as anything.

(Combining these two ideas, in a Season 7 AU that follows up the alternate S6 -- a setting in which Tara is still alive because she never did get back together with Willow and so wasn't in the house to be accidentally shot, I guess I can make everyone mad at me by having her end up with Kennedy.)

3) Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

Oh, yeah. absolutely. Like I said, I don't ship it myself but I absolutely think I could in the right circumstances.

Willow and Buffy are the two most interesting characters on the show to me, their relationship (platonic or otherwise) is one of the best parts of the show (and, as I said earlier, their relative lack of interaction in Season 7 is one of that season's big weaknesses).

It would be a very, very funny resolution to the initial Season 1 love triangle (in which Willow has an unrequited crush on Xander who has an unrequited crush on Buffy) to posit that Buffy in turn had a secret crush on Willow. I mean, I'll always be incredibly glad that the show didn't have either Willow/Xander or Buffy/Xander become a thing [no offence meant to Xander ... well, maybe a little bit of offence meant], but having Buffy/Willow be endgame could have worked too. (It worked for The Legend of Korra, after all...)

And there are definitely a few scenes in the show that you can read as evidence for Buffy having an (unacknowledged to herself) crush on Willow. Among others, we've got:

Buffy's reaction to finding out about "Malcolm" in I Robot You Jane, which can pretty easily be read as jealousy on Buffy's part ("I'm just trying to make sure he's good enough for you")

"I need my Willow" in The Zeppo.

Two scenes in Doppelgangland (Buffy's reaction to meeting vamp!Willow in the Bronze -- "holy God, you're Willow" -- and the way she looks at Willow in the library in the scene she realizes her friend is still alive

Buffy's attempt in Normal Again to assure Willow that the girl she saw Tara with must have just been a friend, because "Once you fall for Willow, you stay fallen." Is she speaking from experience, or...?

And of course it's very, very easy to read Willow's hostility towards Faith in Season 3 as a (probably unconscious) romantic jealousy, or to read something in to her impassioned defences of Buffy in Season 1 and 2 or the way she is so deeply invested in her love life (with Angel, with Scott Hope, with Parker, with Riley...). I don't think that's the intended reading, or even necessarily the only reading, but Willow does almost immediately like Buffy a lot and very quickly stands up for her in ways she very rarely does for herself.

Not to mention the fact that Buffy literally died for Willow just a few months after meeting her. She goes to fight the Master in Prophecy Girl for several different reasons, sure, but the most immediate trigger is talking to a tearful Willow who's just found some of her classmates murdered by vampires. In just a couple of on-screen minutes Buffy goes from begging her mom to let her run away from town because "she can't go to the dance" to telling Willow that nothing matters "as long as you're okay" and promising to do "what we have to" to keep her safe.

For her part, Willow literally changes the course of her whole life for Buffy. Whether that's learning magic or choosing to stay in Sunnydale after high school (I mean, she pretends she isn't doing that for Buffy, but come on) or, of course, bringing her back to life in Season 6. There's a lot of debate online about the ethics and motivation of Willow refusing to accept Buffy's death. Some people think it's selfish and a sign of Willow's increasing arrogance and hubris and she should have let Buffy stay buried and moved on with her life. Some people argue Willow is rightfully worried about what might be happening to her dead best friend's soul after jumping into a portal to a hell dimension, and that it's perfectly understandable to miss her best friend who died violently at such a young age, and that she's only doing what she thinks is right for Buffy and Dawn and the wider world. But surely something we can all agree on here, as serious scholars of the show, is that either way it's ... kind of hot?

I mean, Willow eventually goes on this whole corruption arc this season, and it all starts when she metaphorically sacrifices her own innocence and anoints herself with blood in order to rewrite the laws of reality and cheat death itself just to be reunited with the girl she's been obsessed with since from the very first day they met. I mean, yeah, maybe your favorite ship is cute and healthy and wholesome, but have either of them ever allied themselves with demonic powers in order to pull the other one out of heaven rather than go on existing in a world without them? Oh, they haven't done that? So they're just kind of casual, then? Not really that committed to the relationship yet?

... OK, maybe I do ship it a little bit.

[burrythebusy]

Part 2!

Another important gripe I have is with this

That's not what he says man. Here, hes supposed to be talking about how Hirano is considering how they might look and being caught meaning Hirano being "conscious" of the romantic aspects of their relationship. He's taking Kagiura’s feelings seriously and he knows others might see etc. "Its nice that you're looking out for me BUT" is just an odd choice. I don't get it.

And then, arguably the most important panel and the most important words of this chapter, what we've ALLLL been waiting for...

...Poopy.

When i say this chapter is 75% extra yap that wasn't in the original text, I mean it

Every single translation and live tl I've seen says that Hirano says, "So it's the same [feeling]". All he says here, is a short and sweet, our feelings are the same. It's Hirano realizing that Kagiura’s definition of love is the same as how he feels about Kagiura. So why in TARNATIONNN am I seeing a whole paragraph that doesn't even make SENSE.

"Thats exactly what i thought love meant" NO ITS NOT??? BECAUSE EARLIER IN THIS SAME TL HIRANO GOES

This is also why I brought up earlier what ichinose said about how it feels for love to be reciprocated, because this whole time hirano has been thinking that he wants to be with Kagiura [more than anyone] but he DIDN'T define this as love, so Kagiura saying what he said made Hirano realize that the feelings he didnt realize could simply be love, ARE love, and they're reciprocated! Does that make sense???

Hirano has never defined love for himself explicitly. Again, everything hes going through right now is because of what love is defined as through expectations of "normalcy". Hes thinking his feelings are different from Kagiura’s e.g. NOT romantic because everyone expects certain things he can't perform out of it. This isnt him realizing that "oh how I've been defining love all this time is how Kagiura defines it" no, hes thinking, "if love, according Kagiura, the one who loves me, is THIS, then I DO love him, and our feelings are the same"!!!!

The whole thing he went through earlier in this chapter was him worrying that he can't perform whats expected of him in order for his feelings to be categorized as love therefore he can't return it, when in reality he's told "Hey thats not what love has to be" so ichinose saying that and then Kagiura confirming that thats NOT what love is to him, is Hirano realizing that IS what he's been feeling then.

What he says in this TL comes off as when ppl have a wrong opinion of something and get proven wrong then go "YEAH THATS WHAT I WAS THINKING!" NO YOU WERENT AND THATS OKAY DAWG.

Sometimes less is more. And I think that applies here TENFOLD. He didn't say all this, he didn't say he was thinking the same thing the WHOLEEE TIME, he skipped away, the world's weight off his shoulders, and he said "We're the same" because if the guy that loves him says I love you because this, and he feels the same way, then hey! Guess I'm in love too!

To me, the original is sooo powerful because it just ended up being sooo simple. Ichinose assured him that kissing isnt what defines loving someone. And then Kagiura reassured his love for Hirano by saying I don't love you because I want to kiss you, but vice versa. "I want to be with you more than anyone" something Hirano has been (subconsciously) thinking all this time (and consciously sometimes!) It ended up being so freaking simple. He didn't have to say or think much. Because their feelings, after all, are the same. GUYS. WHAT ARE WE DOING.

God i love this chapter but it PAINSSS me reading ch. 28 and then this one because the tl just doesn't so it justice. From changing whole sentences to omitting important things I just don't understand why. It changes so much. And its constantly misleading readers that rely on this tl into thinking things are worse than they are. Urgh.

Anyway. We are UNDENIABLY in the post-Hirano-Realization arch and thats huge. This chapter made me CRY people. Its just such a good freaking chapter with such personal writing and I felt everything when reading it so it saddens me that might not be the case for others.

Outlining my gripes with the ch. 29 TL

Alright chat. Basically, i have the same problems I had with the 28 tl but, to give it credit, it's definitely not as bad. (Note that I'm basing my opinions off of the TL posted on the most known sites, and I'm comparing that to the TLs of the numerous servers I'm in INCLUDING the one of the person that did the popular TL I'm doing the comparison of)

I think one of the most important parts of ch. 29 is how it bounces of of 28.

Small bit first, but this still bothers me

Considering how weirdly aggressive ch. 28 was translated, the whole idea that hirano "fought it" annoys me because he literally just flinched??? Maybe thats just how I perceive the term "fought" but he didn't try to pull away nor did he react that adversely as were being made to believe by the words (re: the whole "repulsed" thing as if he didn't just feel discomfort or even just shock which was the tlers own words too, but whatever)

Anyway, Hirano is thinking that he can't live up to the expectation of what defines romantic love (certain physical touches, kissing, etc.) He WANTS to be able to return Kagiura’s feelings, but if this is what romantic feelings are supposed to be like, can he?

Firstly, his convo with Ichinose is fine for the most part. My small peeve comes in with this page because Ichinose actually says "just kidding" after but without that this looks kinda mean 😭 but out of context it's funny as hell

But I want us to keep in mind what ichinose says here

"Its the best feeling in the world finding out someone returns your feelings" and he's, to me, definitely referring to Hirano here, not Kagi (this'll make sense in a bit) keep this in mind.

So, we get to the parts that I have the most issues with, which is hrkgs conversation

Another small petty note but

"Them's fightin' words asshole" is admittedly funny but WHAT LMFAO?????

Okay, here's my BIGGESTTTT gripe. Which is shocking but it bothered me the most.

That is not what Hirano says.

Specifically, Hirano says that "the sky suits Kagiura". The sky is SUCH an important mention here and it being completely omitted is actually nuts. Because without that, Hirano just looks like hes thirsting! Out of nowhere! Like what do you mean "damn he looks good like this" like WHAT? If i hadn't the context of other tls, I would think that he's talking about Kagiura's muscles or something because, while the sky is still a possibility with this wording, it's not the only one. "Like this" with his sleeves up? Smiling? Sitting next to you? Relaxed? What are we talking about here? This gives us nothing to work with KNOWING that the original text is saying that the Kagiura with the SKY as his backdrop suits him. Why omit the sky part????

We know Hirano is very fixated on the sky (pilot things whatever whatever). Hes always looking up at it. He sees contrails and distrails and clear skies and overcast, he pays a lot of attention to it. So when he says the sky suits Kagiura (and not vice versa) that's so freaking important. The one time Hirano notices the sky but isnt looking at it, hes looking at the person in front of him, with the sky as the backdrop, something he loves emphasizing someone he loves, them complementing each other. And you choose TO OMIT THAT?? WHY???

Again, reading this tl, I was like holy shit. Why is he just THIRSTING??

Completely ruins the meaning. And this was my favorite freaking page from this chapter. Its not that much to ask that you include the literal SUBJECT that was said right??? The SKY??? Come on.

Another small peeve, the way Kagiura says yeah I wanna kiss you annoys me. Its not incorrect by any means and I know it's just added flare and characterization but

It just sounds so... matter-of-fact. The tone is like "well DUH" when I didn't take it that way originally when he says "I wanna kiss you because I'm in love with you" and i talked about why when the chapter First came out

To me, this translation kinda... diminished that. But of course after this he still confirms that he doesn't want to DATE hirano because he wants to kiss him, etc. That part I'm fine with i think it was done very well.

ANOTHERRR nitpick I hate this wording "kinda has me craving it" this is CRAZY to read and it makes me convulse sorry. Hirano was ""repulsed"" by that touch?? Well I'm REPULSED BY THIS.

WHY R YOU SAYING IT LIKE THAT

Please refer to my reblog for the rest because I reached the picture limit 😒😒😒

[roseverdict]

sometimes local places in a part of the country you'd always been ferried around by your hyperconservative parents can be accepting, actually

[aq2003]

has anyone gotten the idea that odysseus' storyline in hades 2 is a depiction/exploration of trauma over his SA and how he's blaming himself for things that were out of his control? because that's the impression i'm getting from what i've seen. he talks about "goddesses" as his "greatest weakness" and that "he's not one to say no to them"...

when mel invites him to the bath, he brings up mortals having different standards for intimacy than gods and how it usually has a more romantic/sexual connotation. she then asks if he's uncomfortable and he has a startled reaction and brings up circe and calypso again (but never actually by name)

(this isn't ship/romance bait btw. odysseus knew mel as a kid and they're stated in-game to have a sibling/uncle-niece relationship)

also he grew apart from penelope after his return, but the game makes a point of showing that his love for penelope and telemachus is what drove him on at all so that element of his character isn't brought into question