#the crystal glasses episode

[fullofsunsetwhispers]

Wait. If there was a Vlad-sized monk uniform at the temple then why did Jack have to wear an Omi-sized monk uniform in that one episode

Good question! Monks were jerks, as simple as that.

Their hospitality to Vlad resulted from several facts:

He was a newcomer, a guest-soon-to-be-a-monk

They were impressed with him and that kinda was further proven by the way he did the chores

He got an invitation from everyone (well Omi was hesitant but went along with it

I bet in the temple there are plenty of robes, Clay and Rai were so nice they fetched some for Vlad before he met Master Fung.

As for the way they treated Jack? Not only was he unwanted from the start but even no one bothered to help Omi and Dojo in supervising him!

I know, it is uncertain how would the monks and Master Fung treat Vlad if they knew he was a spy from the very beginning but probably they would either kick him out or try to reform him.

Jack has been treated differently because he is... a Jack. Clay, Kimiko, Rai, and Fung from the start assumed he was a lost cause and they only agreed because Omi asked for it.

Master Fung only said 'yes' because Omi quoted him. His very own teachings turned against him so in order to not lose the face, he accepted Jack........ But he wasn't eager to lay down the basic rules of living in the temple or have a talk with him??? Encourage him??? He didn't say any wise words to Jack, like 'you did good, boy. It is a small step but I'm glad you're trying to be good'?????? Fung!??? What kind of respectable master lets an ex-evil guy be handled by the youngest of the group? ( i mean it was the best option anyway to have Omi as Jack's guardian but still I'm salty Fung didn't officially welcome Spicer as he did with Vlad)

Let's complain about Kimiko, Rai, and Clay now. As far as I can understand why they were all neutral on this (he can't be trusted yada yada), they all expected Jack to do all the dirty work for them? Hello? That's what the good guys do? Put on the responsibility to the newest member? And then throw at him an enormous pile of dirty clothes from the lorry!? Omi wasn't the perfect one either, but he can be justified. He looked at the issue with a naivety lens. Omi was so certain giving Jack these chores could teach him patience and dutifulness. This is how Omi was raised so he was sure if he can't train with Jack yet he should accustom Jack to the monk life, which purely relies on monk cleanliness and a sense of duty for the community.

Ok, I'm ranting I swear I'm done

So, yes. Jack was parading in Omi's clothes because NO ONE wanted to give him robes in his size...

Heck, even if there were no clothes in his size Raimundo could share with him. But nooo Everybody was too prejudiced against Jack to give a damn.

Who knows? Maybe the next day they wanted to thank him and they could've warmed up to him, but we already knew it was too late anyway.

The last thing I wanted to say is: find yourself a friend who would give you their clothes at the worst hour. All kudos to Omi. Omi is a precious little fella he's the only one who wanted to help. I love Omi and Jack's friendship/frenemy relationship. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[holliano]

10.06.2023

[cainballad]

crystal guard

[ohproserpine]

iii. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, gorey-ish descriptions of love, murder

The next night, Alastor returned in unusually high spirits. He practically dragged you onto the dance floor, twirling you around in dizzying circles for eight whole rounds. If you hadn't asked him to stop, you might have ended up collapsing from sheer exhaustion.

As it was a Saturday night and you weren't scheduled to perform, the trio of you settled in at the bar, enjoying drinks and each other's company as the night wore on.

"Come on, doll! Bottoms up!" Mimzy cheered, her laughter bubbling with infectious energy. The blonde pressed a crystal-clear glass against your lips, tilting it up and urging you to indulge further. The cool liquid burned as it slid down your throat, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. The room turned into a swirling blend of jazz melodies, clinking glasses, and loud, loud chatter.

After a few seconds, unable to endure the relentless flow of alcohol, you finally pushed her hand away with a sputter and a cough. The taste of the giggle water lingered on your lips as you slumped against Alastor's chest, your burning cheeks squished against the fabric of his coat.

"Had a bit too much, have we?" he smirked. The radio host smoothly wrapped an arm around your shoulder, the fine fabric of his suit brushing against your skin as he held you upright against him. You nestled against Alastor, swaying slightly to the music, the alcohol-induced haze casting a dreamy glow over your vision. "My, it looks as though the night's got its claws in you, cher."

"Not yet it hasn't," you grinned, your words slurring slightly as you shifted against him, a hand outstretched to grab your drink off the counter.

"Ah ah ah," Alastor chuckled as he took your glass from you, setting it aside with a careful motion. "Let's not push our luck, shall we?"

"Aw, don't be such a wet blanket!" Mimzy snorted, her curls bouncing as she plopped onto the seat beside you. "She's just having a good time! Ain't that right, doll?"

"Mhm!" you nodded your head eagerly before stopping, the ceaseless nodding causing a dull ache in your head.

"There's a good time, and then there's getting plastered. I'd hate to see the star of the show here end up on the floor. Ha ha!" Alastor boomed out with a laugh, catching you off guard. You would have stumbled off the seat if it weren't for his swift reflexes, his gloved hand wrapping around your arm to pull you back up.

"Such a klutz," Alastor tutted with a smirk as he steadied you. "See? What ever would happen to my favorite showgirl if I don't keep a watchful eye?" 

"Oh, please!" Mimzy snorted as she slid another cool glass of giggle water in front of you, leaving a glistening trail of water from the condensation. "She's handled worse than this. We're just getting started!”

"Mimzy, my dear, it seems my words didn't quite get into that thick skull of yours," Alastor enunciated with a tight-lipped smile. "Allow me to say it in much more simpler terms; she has had enough."

"Oh, come on—"

"Do you want all your patrons to witness yet another fiasco in this establishment?"Alastor smiled as he bore his gaze into the blonde's doe eyes. "Because it does sure seem like a night can't pass here without a fuckup!"

Mimzy's shoulders raised in surprise. She stayed silent for a while before forcing out a response through gritted teeth. "No."

Alastor leaned in, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, voice devoid of his usual eccentricity. "Then dry up. Understood?"

"Understood," Mimzy rolled her eyes, tucking her chin to her chest as she stared at her feet.

"Lovely." Alastor hummed before straightening himself. And just like that, the tension dissipated, replaced by an air of nonchalance.

"Well! This has been a delightful night, but I do believe it's time to escort this lovely lady home, don't you think?" Alastor's tone shifted back to its usual charm, as nothing had happened. He wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging your ditzy self out of the bar stool as he began to guide you out of the speakeasy.

"Best of luck, chums!"

.

"Can you believe it? That lousy, two-timing rat! You introduce him to the girl of his dreams, and what does he do? He high-tails it outta here with her, leaving us all high and dry!" Mimzy ranted, shaking her fist in frustration before pouring herself another drink. "Not a word for a whole week! I had to call in Nitwit Nancy to cover her Friday shifts! And you know that broad sounds like a screeching cat on a hot tin roof."

Beside her, Angel Dust was flabbergasted, his jaw hanging open with the champagne glass dangling loosely from his hands, its contents long spilled onto the counter, creating a shimmering puddle on the bar. Husk grumbled as he wiped the counter clean with a worn-out rag, eyes flickering between Mimzy and Angel.

The spider was staring at Mimzy as if the blonde had just sprouted a third tit, his eyes wide and struggling to process everything he had just been told.

“Why is you gawkin'?!” Mimzy leaned away from Angel, unsettled by the look on his face. “Aww. Is it 'cuz I'm adorable?”

"Fuckin' hell, toots," the spider coughed out a laugh. "I'm having difficulty understanding all that you just spat at me, blondie. What happened to you ‘keeping a secret’?"

Mimzy's body tensed, a sudden realization flashing across her face as she belatedly registered the fact that she had been running her mouth.

Shaking her head, she pulled herself back together with a huff. "Whatever, alright?! I doubt—"

Suddenly, a loud bang at the door echoed through the room, causing the two demons to startle in their seats. Mimzy's head snapped towards the source of the noise so swiftly she nearly gave herself whiplash. In growing horror, she watched as the hinges of the hotel's entrance door began to creak, the walls around them starting to crack and shed plaster.

"Mimzy! We know you're in there! You lousy bitch!"

"Oh, shit," she winced sinking into her seat.

"What the fuck—" Husk cursed, his words drowned out by the sudden explosion that violently rattled the lower windows. Shards of glass rained down onto the floor as dust and debris filled the air, choking their senses. Husk whipped his head around to glare at Mimzy when she vaulted over the bar counter, seeking refuge behind the sturdy wood.

"I fucking knew it. What shit have you brought to us this time?" Husk demanded, his grip tightening on her dress as he lifted her up. Another explosion echoed through the building, the shockwaves pulsing through the floor causing Husk to stumble and drop her. 

With a pained grunt, the blonde crashed to the floor, her bruised front absorbing the brunt of the impact. As she lifted her head, she met Husk's glare.

"Ahah... Well," Mimzy sheepishly smiled, her eyes darting nervously as she cowered on the floor. The banging on the door grew louder and more aggressive, echoing through the hotel lobby like a menacing drumbeat.

Angel Dust stood frozen by one of the living room walls, his hands pressed against it to anchor himself. Suddenly, he noticed the television set flickering with an eerie glow, emitting dissonant static noises that seemed to crawl under his fur. The crackling sound took on an unsettling pitch, and an odd pink electricity surged through the screen, casting a sickly hue across the room. "What the fuck...?!"

In that moment, Vaggie and Charlie stormed onto the scene, their eyes widening in disbelief as they absorbed the chaotic sight. The hotel lobby, once orderly and serene, now lay in ruins—furniture overturned, glass shattered, and the wallpaper charred.

"What's happening?!" Vaggie exclaimed, swiftly drawing her spear and slicing a chunk of concrete in half before it could reach her. The broken pieces ricocheted off the walls, adding to the destruction.

"We are under sssiege!" Sir Pentious screamed as he scrambled to get Nifty into his arms, slithering behind the toppled-over couch for cover. The banging on the door intensified, accompanied by muffled threats and angry shouts from outside. "It'sss all that harlot'sss fault!

"Harlot?" Vaggie questioned, her fiery gaze sweeping the room for a familiar mop of blonde hair. Upon spotting Mimzy, her eyes narrowed as her lips curled into a snarl. "Explain."

"I may or may not be in trouble with an overlord! Well, maybe a couple of 'em," Mimzy rushed out, her words tumbling over each other in a nervous babble. "And I may or may not have 'borrowed' one of their top showgirls. And, well, got that girl killed… but she had it coming!"

Vaggie's patience waned with each new sentence Mimzy added, and a low groan escaped her lips.

"Leave this to me," she hissed, red-hot fury flashing in her eyes as she tightened her grip on her spear. "Everyone, get somewhere safe."

"I'm afraid that will not be necessary, my dear."

A sudden crackling static, skin to the ominous hum of a radio, seeped through the room as Alastor emerged from the shadowed corners. The demon's grin twisted unnaturally, stretching up to his glowing crimson eyes, which emitted an eerie, hollow glow. Tendrils of inky shadow began to writhe and sprout from Alastor's back, emitting sickening cracking noises.

In the blink of an eye, he dashed outside, engaging in his unholy work, swiftly and effortlessly ridding the area of its assailants. The air outside carried echoes of screams and the sharp, metallic scent of blood.

Before everyone could fully comprehend the whirlwind of events that had just transpired, the screaming ceased. Shortly after, Alastor returned to his usual demeanor. Nonchalantly stepping back into the damaged lounge, he dusted off his suit, traces of blood marking his path on the floors.

"Alastor! Babyface! Good show!" Mimzy began clapping, seemingly unfazed by the gorey scene as she stepped out of her hiding spot. "Bravo! bravo!"

Upon hearing Mimzy's voice, Alastor's head fully twisted around with a loud, bone-chilling crack accompanying the movement. The radio demon moved toward her, his towering 7-foot form eclipsing her much smaller figure. He bared his sharp teeth in a menacing smile as his antlers began to grow in length, curling and twisting over his head—a display nothing short of terrifying.

"You—"

"Alastor~" Charlie's voice quivered with forced cheerfulness, her hands wringing together anxiously. "Haha! Let's, uh, try to keep our cool here, okay? We really don't need any more messes, do we? Haha!"

The princess's attempt at forced cheerfulness made her look desperate, her manic expression surfacing as her pupils visibly shrank, darting around the room like startled prey.

Alastor closed his eyes, the tension in his form visible as he took a moment to regain composure. Gradually, his antlers reverted to their usual size. With an eerie calm settling over him, he reopened his eyes, though the strain was evident in his smile. "My apologies, chum. I'll be out of your hair in a bit."

He spared Charlie one more glance, his gaze piercing, before redirecting his attention to Mimzy. The intensity in his stare bore into her as he spoke, his voice low and measured. "Since you are so eager to catch up, why don't we have a talk? In private."

With that, the radio demon snapped his fingers, transporting both of them out of the lounge.

"Dumb bitch," Husk grumbled under his breath, covering his eyes with his paws and slamming his head onto the bar counter. "We're all fucked once he finds out."

"Find out what?" Walking up to him, Angel Dust shot Husk a confused look. The spider delicately brushed away the dust that clung to his grey fur, picking out the bigger pieces of cement and plaster. "I thought they were friends?"

Husk raised his head off the counter, mismatched eyes meeting Angel's own. "Not anymore."

.

Mimzy slowly opened her eyes, greeted by the surreal sight of a blood-red room surrounding her. It housed a radio station complete with an array of dials and a microphone, the very tools she knew Alastor utilized for his broadcasts.

'His broadcasting station?' she noted, curiously looking about the room.

Suddenly, Alastor's firm grip closed around her shoulder, causing her to whirl around with disorienting speed. His bloodied claws moved to cradle both of her rosy cheeks, their sharp edges looming dangerously close to breaking skin while he squeezed her face as though dealing with a disobedient child.

"I thought I made it very clear that you were to step nowhere near me," Alastor forced her to stare up at him. Despite the discomfort caused by Alastor's claws digging in, Mimzy maintained her confident demeanor and glared straight back up at him. "Did I not, dearest?"

"Oh, I just ran into a spot of trouble, and I thought, who better to lend a helping hand than you?" Mimzy rolled her eyes as she pulled herself away from his grasp, massaging the tender flesh of her cheeks. "You always love helping lil ole me."

"Enough. What is it you want?" Alastor snapped. "Should you persist in wasting more of my precious time, I will relish tearing you apart limb from limb, and the symphony of your sweet screams will be a broadcast for all of Hell to revel in."

Mimzy, unfazed, leaned in with a sly grin, her fingers playfully tracing the lapel of Alastor's coat. "Alright, tall, dark, and creepy. I know you aren't going to do shit."

"After all," she batted her lashes at him, "Hurting me would be hurting her, now wouldn't it?"

The blonde pressed her finger into his chest, poking him repeatedly. "That was in the contract~ You. Heartless. Son. Of. A. Bitch."

A low, guttural chuckle rumbled in the depths of Alastor's throat. "Oh, sweetheart," he drawled, catching her finger mid-poke. "You seem to be overlooking the delicate nature of contracts. It might be wise for you to tread more carefully, relying on such flimsy assurances."

"Flimsy?!" Mimzy scowled. "I got your girl on a leash!"

"Lets make this very clear," Alastor's voice deepened into a growl, eyes flashing red in warning. "This contract doesn't grant you a carte blanche to play games with my patience. If not for her plea to spare you, your fate would have been sealed by now."

As Alastor's grip moved to tighten around her throat, Mimzy's eyes nervously tracked the sharp edge of his claws, her breath catching in her throat.

"W-Whatevah! A contract is a contract," she retorted. Mimzy roughly pulled away from him, scrambling to gain the upper hand again. "Even if there ain't a soul exchange, it's still binding!"

"Yes, indeed! I am well aware of contractual obligations, dear," Alastor grinned, his cane tightening in his grip, claws leaving indents on the dark steel. Bending down to meet her gaze, he continued, "But you seem to have forgotten that time's almost up! The expiration for your contract is nearing. And when that happens, I do intend to reclaim what is rightfully mine – my wife. At that point, you will find yourself plunged into an abyssal world of unrelenting agony."

"Abyss, schmabyss. I've dealt with worse," Mimzy scoffed, her hand waving dismissively. "Now look, I got what I wanted outta you, and I don't have to take this."

With that, the blonde turned with a dramatic flair, her heels clicking against the floor as she stomped towards the door. She adjusted her hair and straightened her dress, a smug smirk dancing on her lips.

"Have fun with your little princess and your little project," she quipped.

Over her shoulder, she shot Alastor one last look, a sly glint in her eyes. "Because I sure am having fun with mine~"

Dry up - Shut up Giggle Water - Liquor Carte Blanche - Complete freedom to act as one wishes

[heliorite]

HOW'D YOU LIKE THE NEW PD EP <3 willotstreet

😁 NEVER BETTER. I'M SURE THIS WILL NOT HAVE LASTING EFFECTS. I'M SURE WILLIAMS ACTIONS WILL NOT HAVE CONSEQUENCES. 😁👍

[volixia669]

“Stargate SG-1 and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull”

Though, to be honest, if Indie’s kid was replaced with even a young Daniel the movie would probably have been improved multiple times.

[sweetnans]

Tsukishima has always worn glasses while you rejected them at the end of middle school, switching to contacts.

He always has his glasses crystal clean. He likes to see what he's approaching. Even when he is so careful with the maintenance of his glasses, you always have a spare cloth in your backpack in case Tsukishima forgets to clean them.

"Let me take care of that," you say taking his glasses off and leaving him helpless for a few seconds.

At the beginning of your friendship, he used to flinch when you did that, but now he just scowls at you, rolling his eyes at your antics.

When you started to wear contacts, he realized really quickly that you hated them. Always blinking so fast and rubbing your eyes made you struggle with the assignments, so he, unconsciously, paid more attention to teach you in case you needed it.

Now, in ocassions, you still rub your eyes, and sometimes that leads to your contacts falling off. Tsukishima, as your long-time friend, always has a bottle of cleanser at the reach of your hand before you start to panic, knowing how your mind works and how you always freak out before using your brain properly.

Tsukishima doesn't know how to have a normal friendship with you. It's like a constant battle of who's more attentive with the other and who's faster to show reciprocity.

Rarely, he forgets his volleyball glasses so when he does, you're ready to put all the episodes of art attack you watched when you were a kid on practice. Against his will and, of course, making sarcastics comments on how you are going to ruin his glasses, you sit him on the bench and start taping the temple tips to a string that goes around his head to prevent it from falling to the ground everytime he jumps.

Everyone thinks you are a genius, saving them from having fewer players for the next set.

Now the marker is not even. He rolls his eyes when he realizes that you are stepping in your unsaid game, so when you two are walking home, he makes sure to buy you an ice cream or two, you know, to compensate your labor

[donatellawritings]

NEED NEED NEED NEED NEEEEEEEDDDD sweetheart latina calming rafe down from an episode !1!1!1!1!@!@!@!2!2 i just know for a fact that he would avoid her to hide it

honestly, you’re so right lol - lol i may have gotten a bit excited

you had to give rafe credit: he hadn’t had one of his tried and true blistering breakdowns for the past few months, in fact, he hadn’t even punched a hole in the wall, since he met you. he’d been hyper fixated on you since the moment you first looked up at him through your wispy doll lashes, your dreamy eyes glazing over his strained baby-blues. you were sickeningly sweet, your cheesy smile clashing perfectly with his locked jaw and stoic frown. i mean, rafe had even decided to drastically cut down on his drug intake - seeing the way your swollen lips pulled into a displeased frown, overcoming him with shame and guilt. it was clear that you made him a better man, a man that could even make his family proud — possibly.

it was crystal clear that rafe was on edge, from the moment you woke up, you found him sat at the edge of the bed, his back muscles tense as he held his head in his hands, “hi baby,” you cooed, your lace white panties peeking from underneath the borrowed north carolina panthers t-shirt that you’d found sleep in as you crawled over to rafe, placing your delicate hand on his feverishly bouncing leg.

rafe blinked slowly, shaking his head as he curled an arm around your neck, hastily pulling you into his side as he pressed his lips to your forehead with a loud smack of his lips against your skin, “y’should go home today, i have shit to take care of and i don’t want you around to see that, yeah?” he decided, his voice low and stern as he kept his eyes focused on the polished hardwood floor beneath his sock-clad feet.

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you pulled your hand away from his leg, sitting back on the heels of your feet as you ignored the sudden swirl of nerves in your stomach, “you want me to go home?” you asked, your voice lightly breaking as you stared at the side of rafe’s face, a pout now tugging on your lips as you reached to grab his face, “babe, just look at me-”

rafe was quick to catch your wrist, his grip tight as he finally brought his eyes to meet yours, his pupils blown to hell as you closed your mouth, “i said, go home, i don’t want to repeat myself, a’ight?” he rasped, forcing his gaze forward as you snatched your wrist from his grip.

rafe understood your behavior, he even blamed himself for it. he spoiled you, gave you anything and everything that you wanted, the moment you asked for it. you were spoiled and stubborn, you never took not getting your way lightly.

with an unimpressed scoff of a laugh, you pushed yourself off of the bed with a roll of your eyes as you grabbed the nearest pair of your bedazzled light grey boyshorts, sliding them on swiftly as you reached for your phone. your pearlescent acrylic nails tapped furiously against the glass screen as you texted kie, warm tears clouding your vision as you snatched your gifted dior bag that sat on rafe’s dress to sit over your shoulder. crouching before rafe, you ran your fingers through your hair.

“don’t call me,” you sniffled, before pulling away from rafe who licked over his dry lips, maintaining his gaze to remain at the wall over your shoulder, “and don’t look for me, either,” you wiped your eyes with the sides of your index fingers as you grew frustrated with rafe’s silence, sliding your pedicured feet into your sandals before exiting his bedroom, allowing the door to slam behind you as rafe remained seated on his bed.

you knew that you were pushing the limits with rafe, but you needed him to feel even a fraction of the hurt and embarrassment that came from him sending you away. he was mean and you hated that cold side of him, you hated how well it got under your skin, you hated how it never failed to make you cry. your top teeth dug into the fat of your bottom lip as you waited at the door, hoping that maybe, just maybe he’d chase after you, wrap you in his arms and tell you that everything would be okay - you didn’t even care if he’d be lying, you just wanted rafe.

hot tears stained your puffy cheeks as you made your way downstairs, your lashes heavy and wet as you fought to blink your tears away. why did he have to be so mean? why did he have to push you away? your bottom lip quivered as you stood on the front porch of tannyhill, giving kiara a small wave as her car approached the residence. your cousin remained silent as you entered the car, her hand reaching over the console to cradle yours as you sobbed.

kiara was fully aware as to just how much you liked rafe, much to her extreme dismay. she was privy to, and oftentimes witnessed rafe’s violent mean streak, as well as his icy demeanor and it bothered her to know that of all people, it had to be you, her sweet cousin and best friend that fell in love with the only son of ward cameron. even though, she had to admit that even she had noticed his slightly improved behaviors, thanks to you, yet her disdain for the young man was quickly reignited at the sight of your usually bright eyes, now bloodshot with stinging tears.

she’d decided to wait until you’d calmed down a bit, before nudging your side with her knuckle, “give me your phone,” kiara asked softly, a wave of relief crashing over her as you complied with ease, setting the phone to silent mode as you slid the phone into her hand, “wanna go to the beach?” she offered, placing your phone into the glove compartment.

now fiddling with the diamond ‘R’ initial that hung from your dainty chain, you nodded weakly, leaning your head against kiara’s arm as she drove father away from the cameron residence.

ྀིྀ

it didn’t take long for your sad tears to subside, once you were on the beach, the warm and inviting sun, drying your tears and burning your heartbreak as you took a sip of the smooth mango juice that kie prepared for you. a low mewl of satisfaction left you swollen lips as you let the juice glide down your throat. you boyshorts and borrowed t-shirt were swapped with a pink triangle bikini set, your layered hair pushed back by your sunglasses as you walked along the shoreline, damp sand tickling your painted toes.

of course, you had found that your mind would flutter back to wondering about rafe, secretly yearning to see him, but you remained strong, mostly thanks to your cousin and friends who’d made it their mission to at least distract you for a few hours.

“‘sup mama! y’gonna get in with us, or …” jj beamed, pulling you in for a short hug, the hyperactive blonde nodding towards the water, cocking his head to the side as you shook your head.

“i don’t want to mess up my hair,” you whined, taking another sip of your juice as jj’s exaggerated sigh caused you to let out a breathy laugh around your paper straw.

“kie, she doesn’t want to get her hair wet!” jj announced with a playful roll of his eyes as your cousin approached the two of you, a face of annoyance wearing on her features, “woah, what’s wrong?” the blond asked, nudging kie’s chin with the side of his finger.

kiara huffed, before locking her eyes on you, “rafe is here,” she forced a smile, before swallowing thickly as she took a quick glance over her shoulder towards the opposite side of the beach.

you stomach sank as you followed her gaze, the sight of rafe walking out of his black pick-up truck causing you to freeze still. you ignored the small part of you that found excitement in the fact that he’d decided to find you, yet the sudden well of tears that glazed your vision proved otherwise. he’s the one that told you to leave, you didn’t do anything wrong.

blinking away your threatening tears, you adjusted the strings of your bikini to sit comfortably on your hips, “i don’t want to see him,” you mumbled, your eyes silently pleading with kiara’s as jj pressed an innocent kiss to the side of your head, before making his way into the water, avoiding any contact with rafe altogether.

“i’ll try to stall him, okay?” she shrugged, pacing backwards for a few steps before turning to walk towards rafe.

you locked over your supple lips, lowering your sunglasses to conceal your eyes as you watched kiara block rafe’s direct path to you. a small pang of guilt flashed in your chest as you watched him run his hands through his buzzed hair in frustration.

“kie, i don’t have the time for this shit right now, just let me see her,” rafe raised his hand, shaking his head as he walked around kiara, his knuckles swollen as he ran his hand over his face. an annoyed huff left his lips as kiara grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks with wide eyes.

“you told her to leave, don’t forget that,” kiara spat, snatching her hand away from his arm as she walked away from the taller man, hastily making her way towards jj who sat on his surfboard, carefully watching kiara’s interaction with rafe.

a silent cry hummed within you as rafe’s eyes met yours. your heartbeat quickening with each step that brought you and rafe closer. you’d become overwhelmed with anxiety as you suddenly found yourself spinning on your heels, walking away from rafe, and towards kiara.

“wait, baby, please, just-” rafe jogged up to you, softly grasping your arm as you turned to face him, sliding your arm away down his grasp as kept your head down, “c‘mon, mama, let me look at you, please,” he pleaded, bringing both of his hands to either side of your face, before softly lifting your sunglasses, revealing your reddened and damp eyes.

with a sniffle, you pulled away from rafe, “i don’t want to see you, right now,” you squeaked, taking a few steps backs from your flustered boyfriend.

“stop fuckin’ walking away from me!” rafe shouted, before grabbing your waist and holding you against his front, his chest heaving for a few breaths, before he let out a childlike sob, “m’sorry, princess, i just had a really bad fuckin’ day,” rambled, his tear-stained face tucked into your neck as you were quick to face him, a pout on your lips as you cradled his face in your hands.

“rafe,” you sighed, nudging his nose with the tip of yours, “que te pasa?”

wordlessly, rafe pulled you into his chest, his long arms wrapping around your waist as you both lightly swayed from side to side. you weren’t used to rafe being so emotionally vulnerable, he was usually the one who would calm you down from crying fits and panic attacks, so this was new territory for you. and, it broke your heart to pieces to watch your man break down in front of you.

“m’just waiting to fuck things up with us, i know m’gonna fuck up,” he ranted.

standing on the tips of your toes, you wrapped your arms around his tense neck, “no, papi, everything’s okay,” you cooed, pressing you lips to his cheek as you held him just a wee bit tighter, “let’s go home,” you kissed rafe’s lips, a pillowy soft kiss.

“let’s go home,” he mumbled, terrified that if he let go of you, you’d find a way to slip away from him.

and so, you’d found yourself coaxing rafe into a peaceful sleep, your nails scratching gently at his scalp as he laid between your legs, his face smushed against your stomach. the dangle of his chain tickling you as he shifted in his sleep. you could see the gnarly imprint of his knuckles impacting the wall, as his inflamed knuckles laid against your waist, the chill of your seamless shorts easing the dull throb of his hands.

“i love you, okay,” you whispered.

“i love you,” rafe mumbled into the skin of your stomach.

[asidian]

One thing I haven't seen talked about nearly enough is the brilliant use of color as symbolism in Dead Boy Detectives.

So without further ado, the first of several color posts:

RED

Red is courage, as defined by Niko in the lighthouse episode. Specifically, though, it's self-confidence.

Red is also Charles' color. He starts the series in fully saturated red and begins to lose his saturation after the Devlin house, as he begins to lose confidence. By the time we reach the episode where he's worried that he's exactly like his father, he's faded all the way to black. His saturation begins to return after Edwin reassures him, and he's back to red again by the time the season ends, when his confidence in himself and his courage to face everything the world throws their way has been restored.

Niko wears red in the episode in which she steps up to help the boys. She's in red again when she returns as the Principal in the final episode, for courage to stand up for her friends.

The sea glass that Niko offers Edwin is red, for courage.

Tragic Mick's outfit is red and blue, the boys' colors, because his role in the narrative is to support the boys.

The starfish on the beach are red and blue, the boys' colors. Notably, Niko comments that they're in love.

Crystal wears red socks when she comes to rescue the boys from Esther in episode 8, to give her courage to save the day.

Jenny is one of the most self-confident characters in the show. She never wavers in knowing what she wants or where she stands, and it's no accident that she's always pictured in front of the iconic Tongue and Tail sign, which is red.

red | blue | pink | green | green (alt) | purple | orange | brown | black |white

[peopleareaproblem]

"It's the only name I can say."

So last ep, Kalina dropped this line after saying "Ragh Barkrock" again. She's really trying to get the Bad Kids to deduce who she could be referring to via Ragh. We've found out about the Spy's Tongue Curse since she last dropped Ragh's name, so it's clear that she's implying that she cannot say the names she wants to say and is dropping Ragh's name as a clue. I've been seeing a lot of theories about this line that are convinced it's implying Lydia Barkrock. I disagree: I think she is referring to Arianwen, Jace and Porter. Here's why.

First of all, and most obviously: Kalina says Lydia's full name in Sophomore Year episode 6.

Kalina: But you do have some time to talk it over because I'm gonna head out and kill Lydia Barkrock. So take care.

I don't think Brennan or the D20 Lorekeeper would have missed this. Kalina doesn't have a Spy's Tongue Curse with Lydia.

Secondly, the gang already investigated Lydia and got relevant clues from her, and Brennan did not encourage suspicion towards Lydia in any way. This repeat of the clue really feels like a "you guys didn't get it yet" type thing. Last time they assumed Lydia and that wasn't it. Try again.

Thirdly, Ragh's only real interaction with Kalina is about a single time he saw something he shouldn't have: Jace, Porter and Arianwen talking to someone invisible (Kalina) on Prom Night. I believe that if the Bad Kids just asked Ragh what Kalina could possibly have meant by "Ragh Barkrock" and "It's the only name I can say," he would absolutely bring up this fact. But they haven't!

That's why I am convinced that Arianwen, and to a lesser extent Jace and Porter, are who Kalina was referring to.

Below the cut are some bits of the trancript from Episode 4 of Sophomore Year, where Ragh reveals this to the Bad Kids.

Ragh is describing the aftermath of the fight with Kalvaxus:

Ragh: I ran into the school. And I went and I saw there was this conversation, and I was going, 'cause a lot of the teachers had been trapped in the crystals and had come out again. And I saw Jace, the sorcery teacher-- Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: Talking to this woman that I didn't recognize. She was an elven woman, she was wearing sort of like black, dark robes, it looked like, they were very light. She was blonde, she had glasses. Adaine: She look like this? [points at her face] Ragh: She look like you? Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: I mean, yeah. Yeah, she looked like, yeah, she looked like you. But older. She didn't look like-- Adaine: Right. Ragh: Um, you know, I mean, elves never look that old, but she looked like, you know, not a high schooler. Um. Jace and them were talking, and they were talking to somebody else who I couldn't see. I just assumed somebody was like, invisible. Um. Later, um, Jace and Porter came and talked to me--

Ragh goes on to describe Porter healing him, despite Ragh not feeling "that injured, honestly", and after that he can see Kalina despite not being able to see her moments before:

Ragh: And after that, I was like walking home, and I saw this cat woman, this tabaxi. And she came up, and told me all this stuff about my mom, and she said if I ever talked to anyone about it, she would kill my mom.

This indicates that Porter infected Ragh with the curse, on purpose. Probably to allow Kalina to threaten and manipulate him so he wouldn't tell anyone what he saw. She really doesn't want him telling anyone that he saw Arianwen there.

Ragh: She told me if I ever mentioned to anyone what I had seen about that elven woman-- Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: That she would kill my mom.

They have a short conversation about wether Jace is suspect, but dismiss it. Adaine shows Ragh a photo of her mother and he confirms that it is the woman he saw.

[gendrsoup]

listen, while i've read steve yockey's plans for niko next season, and i want her back just as much as the next sad queer, i'd love to see at least one full episode of her just haunting the narrative and our favorite detectives.

the team move back to london and they've been trying to get back to as much of a "normal" as they can, but someone something is noticeably gone. crystal finds a stray manga volume in her boxes from port townsend and gets this stabbing feeling in her chest before shoving the box away. edwin finds some sea glass in a magic shop and freezes up, quickly averting his gaze and blinking away half formed tears. a case goes sideways and charles half heartedly suggests "if niko was here, she'd probably try to convince the kelpie to move in to a magical aquarium or something". they all smile but it still hurts. a flash of white hair in a crowd, gone upon a second glance. a familiar laugh blown away by the wind. sparkling eyes that aren't really there so can't they just go away and save everyone the hurt?

i'd just like them having to deal with her glaring absence for a bit, you know?

[tangibletechnomancy]

Doing It Wrong On Purpose: Episode 1 - The Un-Ship

Today's experiment: What happens if I prompt for something, and then negative prompt all the main keywords, plus various synonyms and related words?

The answer: Some gloriously weird stuff.

For example, let's look at a negative cat:

Positive prompt: A cat on a windowsill during a storm

Negative prompt: Cat, feline, felidae, kitty, kitten, animal, pet, windowsill, window, glass, pane, house, storm, rain, water, lightning, thunder, clouds, torrent, downpour, snow, blizzard, wind, windy

Interesting! Let's get a little more fantasy with it and try for an anti-deer:

Positive prompt: A deer in a peaceful flowery meadow, crystals, midnight, fantasy, colorful

Negative prompt: Deer, cervidae, animal, elk, moose, stag, doe, fawn, reindeer, antelope, cervid, antlers, flowers, night, dark, trees, foliage, bloom, stars, night, tranquil, fantastic, vibrant, cool, magic, blue, moon, sky, crystal, stone, statue, topiary, floral, blossom

Between these two experiments, including a few dozen other generations that remain unposted, one thing I can say for sure is that for living subjects, it's a great way to get the kind of anatomical wonk that older models are (in)famous for - and it makes sense why, the model is trying to make something that looks like a certain subject...but once it starts to look too much like it, well, shit, we told it NOT to do that! Break something up! Given that I love that kind of wonk, I think I've found a useful tool for myself.

One more living subject, and let's get even more abstract with our direction here:

Positive prompt: mind horse

Negative prompt: horse, equine, colt, filly, mare, stallion, bronco, pony, mind, brain, thought, essence, psyche, intelligence, consciousness, imagination, dream, soul, visualization, intellect, wit, cognizance

Now let's try something that isn't alive. One thing I love AI for is surreal settings and landscapes - lets try one now!

Positive prompt: A magic palace garden made of crystal and gold

Negative prompt: Palace, magic, crystal, gold, fantasy, castle, estate, stronghold, temple, garden, flowers, plants, blossoms, bloom, blooms, trees, grass, stems, foliage, leaves, greenery, branches, bush, bushes, hedge, hedges, metal, luxury, stone, glass, brass, rose, polished, jewel, prism, courtyard

I then tried to see if, learning from the animal subjects, I could make it more likely to return one of my favorite "mistakes" - making it impossible to discern the point where a water area ends and a sky area begins. I wasn't immediately successful, but I came up with some results I found pleasing regardless-

Positive prompt: Secret hideout in a cave behind a waterfall in the foggy forest on a floating sky island in fluffy clouds

Negative prompt: hideout, camp, campsite, home, abode, house, dwelling, rest, shelter, waterfall, water, cave, grotto, forest, woods, woodland, trees, fountain, cascade, pond, stream, lake, river, brook, puddle, creek, pool, beach, ocean, sea, cloud, clouds, sky, cumulus, cirrus, nimbus, fog, storm, rain, sunshower, falls

It seems that with landscapes it's got a much clearer and more specific "idea" of what a [SUBJECT] without [SUBJECT] looks like; it's more inclined to invent very specific, very consistent unasked for related elements. With the animals, I was tweaking the weight on the positive prompt to avoid getting straightforwardly just what I had positive (and negative) prompted, but with landscapes, I just get... almost something else entirely.

So how about inanimate objects? Let's try a ship, perhaps?

Positive prompt: A huge sailing ship with brilliant prismatic crystal sails on a stormy, turbulent sea of sunset clouds

Negative prompt: ship, boat, sailboat, sailing ship, pirate ship, galleon, ketch, schooner, sloop, cutter, sail, sea, ocean, storm, wind, rain, water, waves, cloudy, clouds, fog, sunset, dusk, dawn, sunrise, twilight, evening

...okay, I'm in love with the un-ship. It truly does manage to consistently give me results that look like, yet entirely unlike, a ship. It is everything I love about AI as a medium. More than that, it is my friend.

At lower positive prompt weights, they only get even more beautifully chaotic.

I want to live on one of these (in an alternate universe where they're geometrically possible and structurally sound, that is).

Failing that, I will be featuring them a lot from now on.

All images generated using Simple Stable, under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

[niko-sasaki-dbd]

Crystal Palace Surname-Von Hoverkraft.

Dead Boy Detectives Agency

[sources: stone butch blues by leslie feinberg || split by niki || the hour of the star by clarice lispector || uzumaki (spiral) illustrated by junji ito || dreamcore by aklimalsya || pin by dju. || quote by audre lorde || the glass essay by anne carson || anonymous || girls in pants: the third summer of the sisterhood by ann brashares || dead boy detectives, episode 6 + ancient dreams in a modern land by marina]

edwin / charles / paineland / niko / crystal

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.3 K Warnings: ANGST! Prompt: Vixen tries to survive in the snow while Remus desperatly tries to find her. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 46: Comfortably Numb

Well, hold on, my darling This mess was yours Now your mess is mine

You had woken up hastily after seeing Nina, your eyes snapping open in hopes she really was there, but there was no one, just more snow, gently falling on top of the white layer already covering most of the fields. Your eyes started to close again until you felt something on your nose, you opened your eyes only to see a blue butterfly. 

But here? In the snow? You wondered as you saw its wings bat desperate, tired, and cold. You could feel the crisp taping of paper-like, frozen delicate things against your cheek and lashes, urging you to open your eyes back up, to wake up and fight. 

You moved your hand towards your face and the butterfly gingerly jumped to your finger, “You must be cold,” you whispered. You felt cold too, although it wasn’t as cold as before. In truth you were so tired and numb, you barely registered how cold it was until you felt her wings flapping against your cheeks. 

“If I had my wand I could make us a fire,” you said, “but that was taken away from me, to help someone who helped me get here… You can stay by me if you want…” you added as you let your hand fall on your lap carefully. The small butterfly flapped their wings again, desperate to get your attention. 

“Not warm enough, is it?” You asked and sighed. “I’ll try to get us there then,” you said as you pointed at the shack, you knew it would be warm. It was hard to get up, the stunning spell and how tired you were at this point had taken a toll on you. Your movements were strained and languid, it took you a full minute to stand. The butterfly kept flying around you, desperate. You extended your hand to help and she flew towards your shoulder, sitting just over the sleeve of your dress. 

Oh right, you were only wearing a dress, perhaps that was the reason it was so cold. You managed to walk all the way to the door, with a slow and steady pace, but once you reached, the door wouldn’t budge. It was firmly closed, and you didn’t have your wand to pry it open, you didn’t even have the penknife you had made for Sirius. You leaned your back against the doorframe, you felt so tired. 

“Looks like we’re staying out here, Blue,” you said as you looked at the butterfly, who flew rapidly towards your face in response. You sighed, “You wouldn’t make it, would you?” you asked and pushed yourself off the door, searching for another way in. That’s when you spotted one of the crossed-out windows. Perhaps if I try hard enough…

You used the walls to step down from the stairs and walked towards the window. It was covered with wood, but one of the slabs seemed at least slightly rotten, so you grabbed that one, ignoring the splinters digging into your palms and pulled. 

Nothing happened. You frowned, took a deep breath and pulled again. There was a creaking sound, but the wood was still firmly glued to the side panels of the window. You nodded, hyping yourself up as you tried again. One, two, three, PULL! 

The piece of wood came along with you as you stumbled back a good few steps. You looked at it and smiled, throwing the wood on the floor and leaning against the window. It was still as messy as you remembered, but the clouding against the window meant it was warm. You grabbed a fist full of the flowy fabric of your dress and punched on the window, you felt it shatter as your fist went through the crystal. When you pulled your hand back you allowed your dress and the tiny shards of glass to fall onto the snow. 

You turned around and pushed your hand towards the butterfly. She placed herself in the middle of your palm and you carefully brought her inside. She seemed even more active once inside the warmer climate and you smiled. At least you could save a butterfly. 

You swallowed again and tried to pull the wood slab just over the one you had managed to rip out earlier but it was useless, the wood wasn’t as putrid as the other one, and it was firmly nailed onto the window. You huffed and tried again, but the result was the same. The butterfly seemed to be flying desperately as it watched you struggle.  You sighed after trying one more time and allowed yourself to fall on the floor, your eyes closed when you felt the flapping of the wings against your cheeks again.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you stared at it. “Go back inside, it’s warm, you’ll diе out here.” 

The butterfly stubbornly flew around you. It couldn’t talk, but if it did, you’d imagine it would be telling you the same thing you were trying to tell it. You sighed and stood up, helping her back inside. “I’ll find safety,” you promised as you looked at her. “But you need to stay inside.” 

The butterfly refused. You carefully hurled her back inside. It wasn’t easy but you were gentle enough not to hurt her. Once she was inside you dug down and grabbed some snow, attempting to close the hole you’d made with it. You dragged the snow from the sides of the sill and pressed them against the opened area, ignoring the sharp pain when a shard of glass dug into the side of your palm. Or perhaps it was more than one, your hand was too numb to feel it all. 

Once you made sure the butterfly wouldn’t be able to follow, you took a deep breath and focused on the snow. You used a similar spell to the one you had used on the snow fight, but rather than a projectile, you used the same type of magic to make sure the snow wouldn’t melt for a while. The butterfly was fluttering madly inside, as if desperate to come back out. 

“It’s all right,” you reassured, “I’ll find a way to safety, I promise.” You smiled faintly and then turned around. If you couldn’t get inside the shack, then the closest way to safety was through the forest. You weren’t scared, you knew the most dangerous thing that roamed it already, and he wasn’t around tonight. 

You looked up at the sky, the stars were impossibly bright, and the moon was waning. The path towards the forest was dark, but illuminated enough for you to see your way. You took in a deep cold breath and decided that if you’d have to get to the castle either way, you might as well do it now. 

The snow was hard and freezing, your feet hurt as you tried to raise them so you were pretty much dragging them through the thick and cold snow. With no shoes, they felt colder than ever, you could barely feel them at this point, but you kept walking. 

You fell more than once, but the ghost memory of the Blue flapping her wings against your cheeks got you to stand again. To keep walking, to keep fighting. But the castle seemed so far away, and the cold snow appeared as a welcoming blanket every time you stumbled onto it again. It was tempting, awfully tempting to just allow yourself to fall on it, to let it slowly drape over you and to become numb, not only your body, but your mind as well. 

When would they find you if you did? In a week when they realised you were gone? In a month when other animals dug you out of the snow desperate for something to eat? In months? After the weather grew warm and the insects had made your skin their home. You wished you could shudder at the sombre thoughts, but the snow still looked beguiling. 

Perhaps she would wash away your thoughts, perhaps she’d get rid of the pain inside like she had done with the one outside. The soft, white blanket, ready to wrap itself around you until you were completely swallowed by it, until you were one with it, and nothing more. 

But the memory of the butterfly got you up again, you’d have to go back to help her out, if you stayed in the snow, then she would stay in the shack, and the two of you would be nothing more than a memory. 

Remus had run to the Whomping Willow the second he pocketed the mirror. He didn’t even bother hiding the fact that he was going out at night, he didn’t sneak out, he didn’t care if he got detention, he didn’t care if he got expelled. Not after what Sirius had told him. Not after hearing how you were sitting on the snow, with your eyes closing and with the same cold he felt, so heavy around him. The snow was falling so hard he couldn’t see more than a few metres ahead, and he was scared. 

No, Remus was terrified, as terrified as he had been that night you’d discovered he was a Werewolf, as terrified as he was when he saw you fall from your broom back at the game, as terrified as that night you insisted on turning into Vixen alongside the rest of the Marauders to be with Moony.

He had been terrified of losing you then, and he was hysterical over feeling the exact same way now. He sprinted towards the tree, not thinking twice if he would get hit by one of its branches as he ducked and jumped to get to the hole. He slid down and ran, so fast his legs cried for him to stop, his heart drumming in his ears and his breath short. It took some time, but when he finally made it, when he found the door, he busted it open and walked inside. He didn’t waste time, walking towards the entrance and using his wand to open the door. 

“Sirius said you’d be there,” he whispered as he looked at the empty fence. The snow had already covered your tracks, but he could smell the same urgent, scared and terrified scent of you he was already familiar with. He looked around and spotted the wood slab you had ripped from the window. He could smell bIood on it and he cringed, taking it in his hands only to spot small droplets of it over the sides. He winced at the thought of you hurting yourself and then dropped the wood and looked around again. The snow, being so thick, had easily erased your steps, but even if he couldn’t see, he could smell. 

His senses weren’t as keen as they were close to the moon, he wasn’t as good at tracking as Moony was, but if there was a time to take advantage of his abilities, it was now. He closed his eyes and focused on you. It was hard at first, the snow was thick and cold and his nose was freezing, but he managed to spot you, a trace of you. When he opened his eyes again, they were way more golden than normal, and he sprinted towards the source of the smell. He ran, ignoring the snow that had slipped inside his Converse, ignoring the complaints of his bones. The moon had been only days ago and he was still rather sore, but he ran.

By the time he spotted a faint dark dot in the distance, he was already panting, but he pushed through and sprinted all the way to you. By the time he reached you, you were kneeling on the floor, slow breaths and looking up, attempting to stand again. He kneeled in front of you and took you a minute to really see him, thinking for a moment it was just another game your mind was playing on you. 

“Rem?” you asked, voice cracked and barely a whisper. 

“Merlin, you’re all right,” he said as he dragged you towards him. You weren’t all right. You felt as cold as the place surrounding you. Remus panicked as he held you close to him. And he took off the coat he was wearing to wrap it around you. 

“No, it’s cold, you use it,” you slurred as you shivered. Remus gave you a sympathetic look. 

“I’m going to carry you, I think I can apparate you back in the Shack,” he explained. 

“It’s closed, can’t open it…” you said as you shook your head, not quite thinking. “Must get to the castle, it’s safe,” you said, you had told yourself that over and over again as you walked, you were merely repeating it now. Not even thinking Remus could probably crank the door open if he wanted to.

“You don’t have your wand?” he said as he pulled you up from the floor and slung one of your arms around his shoulder. You shook your head in response. “I’m going to pick you up now,” he added as he passed his arm under your legs and pulled you up with ease. “I have my wand,” he added reassuringly, handing it over to you, he knew it would make you feel better.  

And then he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and concentrating on the Shack. The shape of the walls, the window covered by wooden slabs, the run-down chimney and the scuffed floors, once the image was neat enough, he followed Dumbledore’s instructions, the world dissolved around him only for him to appear in the shack. The first thing he did was let you down on the floor carefully and make sure he hadn’t accidentally splinched you. 

“You alright? Anything hurts?” He asked as he placed his hands on your face to check on you. They were warm and kind, incredibly reassuring to your still-fuzzy mind. You couldn’t have been dreaming that, could you? 

You focused your gaze on his, still rather dazed and shook your head. He placed his hand over yours and took hold of the wand, closing the door with a short wave of it and then turning the fire to help the room heat up slowly. 

He took a look at you, your skin was dull with the cold, the colour fading and stale. Remus carried you again and dragged you towards the room, the torn sheets from a few nights back were still on the bed and he sat you there slowly. He asked you a few questions, and you responded automatically, too numb to think properly. 

“Luv, you’re not even listening to me,” he complained as he pulled your face into your hands. You blinked and tried to focus on him again. 

“Sorry,” you mustered. 

He sighed. “Listen, I’m going to give you my jumper, and then I’ll check your hands up. We need to warm you up slowly, okay?” 

“It is cold,” you responded as your teeth clung together. 

Remus took off his jumper and helped you put it on top of your dress. The dress was cold, but he used a spell to have it warm up slowly as he laid you on the bed. “Is it better?” 

You nodded, jaw still quivering from the cold. Remus took a short breath and pulled your hands towards his. Some of the splinters of wood were still stuck in your hand and he was careful as he started to remove them. Your hands were cold and he could see small –now melting– crystals of bIood attached to certain sections of your palm.  When he was done, he used a spell to aid the healing process, your hands had just started to get their warmth back when he heard a heavy breath coming from you. 

You had fallen asleep. Peaceful, but still shivering. He frowned and pulled the mirror from his pocket. Sirius, taking the wand from the bed and using it to send to shine a light, Sirius instantly peaked his head on the other side. 

“How is she? Is she okay?” Sirius mouthed desperately. 

Remus smiled and nodded, showing him your sleeping figure. “She’s cold,” he explained. “I’m trying to warm her up.” 

“Hug her!” Sirius said instantly. “Cuddle her! You’re always warm!” Remus gave him a questioning look. “You always cuddle her, it’s no different.” 

It was very different. Remus had never cuddled you without Sirius in the bed too. James beside Sirius nodded supportingly. He didn’t see the issue, he’d cuddle you if it was necessary. Of course, James saw you as a friend and nothing more. 

Remus nodded and left the mirror on the table, promising the boys he’ll talk to them later, with the radio to explain it all better. Then he leaned onto the edge of the bed. “Little Witch,” he called softly. 

You didn’t react, eyes still closed and breathing slow. He placed a hand on your face, it was warmer, but still colder than it should be. He played with a bit of your hair and placed it behind your ear, allowing his fingers to brush over your face, “Little Witch,” he called again. 

You were beautiful, even in the cold, even with the shivers, Remus thought you looked stunning. He wondered how you must have looked when you stepped into that party, with your hair perfectly arranged and your makeup freshly done, definitely a sight to behold. And then he sighed, here he was ogling at you while his best friend –your boyfriend– was at home, worried for his girlfriend. Asking him to cuddle you, and yet he felt doing so would be akin to betrayal, just because of how much he liked you. 

“Little Witch,” he said again, this time you hummed, your eyes opening slightly, unfocused. “I think I should cuddle you to warm you up faster, is that okay?” 

“It is always okay for you to cuddle me,” you responded, not quite thinking, and closing your eyes again before you noticed the blush on Remus’ cheeks. You couldn’t have meant that, or perhaps you did, in which case you really thought of him as your closest friend, which in turn, made him feel even worse. 

Remus carefully climbed onto the bed and under the covers. He was on the side, and hesitated a little before leaning in to cuddle you. Most of the time, it was you and Sirius that leaned into him, not the other way around. He never wanted to seem invasive, and he really only moved you around when you were Vixen. It was easier to think of the two of you as different entities instead of the same.

But you leaned back to him almost instantly, allowing your head to rest on one of his arms and pulling the other one around you. You seemed a lot more comfortable, the shivering reducing significantly. It took a minute for Remus to untense, but eventually, he relaxed on to you, even daring to bring you closer as he rubbed his hand over your clothed arm to try and warm you up faster with the friction. Eventually, he too fell asleep. 

When he opened his eyes again, you weren’t there. He stood up in an instant, terrified you had been a dream, that he hadn’t found you in the snow and that for some twisted reason, you were still out there freezing. But then he spotted the silhouette of a shadow, and he looked ahead. Crouched, looking impossibly small, you sat next to the fire, using a poker to liven up the flames, arm wrapped around your legs and using both his jumper and his coat to warm yourself up. He couldn’t see your face, but the way you were breathing… it looked like you had been crying. 

He pulled the covers off of him and dragged them alongside himself as he sat next to you. He didn’t make a sound as he placed the covers around the two of you, and he hesitated before placing his hand on your forehead, then allowing it to slide down your cheek, and letting his thumb brush under your chin. You were a lot warmer now.

You didn’t react, you allowed him to touch you as you continued to stare at the fire. The dancing flames reflecting onto your glassy eyes. 

Your temperature had risen, the cold was no longer clouding your mind, and you had struggled to hold back the tears for at least half an hour before you decided to step out of bed, hoping not to wake Remus up with your sobs. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, not after what you’d done, after what you’d caused. You didn’t deserve to cry.

“Little Witch?” Remus asked, tilting his head to the side when you attempted to blink back some tears. 

You swallowed thickly, did you even deserve such an endearing nickname? 

“Hey,” he leaned a little closer, placing a hand on your shoulder, you avoided his gaze, how interesting did the dancing flames seem, with their hues of yellow, red and bright white, with the sparkling bits floating off until they disappeared, with the ash of the wood piling at the bottom. It clearly hadn’t been cleared in a while. 

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Love, whatever happened, I won’t judge you, you know that, right?” 

It was as if he had guessed your thoughts, Remus had always been incredibly perceptive, you sometimes underestimated just how much. But Remus understood, he understood exactly what you were feeling because he had played the scenario where he accidentally hurt those he loved over and over again in his brain for years. 

And while he didn’t know much, Sirius did tell him about the fire and about your mother’s passing.

He was looking at you with such a kind-hearted look, trusting and kind. Like he would give you the world if you asked –he would– and you couldn’t help but break. You disliked being vulnerable, you hated having to show said vulnerability, but with Remus looking at you like that, with the night you’d had, perhaps allowing yourself to cry in front of your best friend wouldn’t be so bad. You knew Remus wouldn’t judge you, at least not for crying. 

“Love?” he asked, you sobbed. Your face slowly scrunching up as you sniffed. It was hard to breathe as you opened your mouth to take in some air and then you sobbed again. 

“I kiIled them,” you said, barely managing to open your eyes to look at Remus straight in the face. You wanted to see his reaction, half expecting him to pull back, to look at you in disgust, to recoil from you and to leave you crying alone in the room. A part of you wanted that, the part that wanted to cry and break everything, the one that needed to be alone. 

But Remus didn’t do any of those things, instead, he opened his arms and wrapped them around you, bringing you closer to him, “I don’t care,” he said honestly. 

You sobbed, and pulled back to look at him, “I kiIIed them, Remus!” you repeated, louder now. “My mum and Nina, they’re both dеad because of me!” 

You felt Remus’ breath slow down as he tightened his arms around you and dragged you back into the hug. He didn’t know about Nina. “Did you want to kiIl them?” he asked simply. He wouldn’t have pushed you away even if you had.

“No,” you said in a whisper. 

“Then it was an accident.” 

You sniffed, trying to push him off, but he tightened his grip around you, not allowing you to snap out of his embrace. “But I still caused their dеaths! I’m a murderer!” 

“I don’t care,” he repeated as he pushed you even closer to him. “I wouldn’t even care if you had done it on purpose, that would just mean they gave you a reason.” You sobbed, allowing the tears to slide down your cheeks, wetting the soft cotton shirt he wore. You didn’t realise it then, but it was the Sex Pistols shirt you had sent him as a gift. 

“You don’t have to tell me what happened, you don’t need to tell me anything at all,” he said softly as he brushed his hand on your back and pulled you even closer, so close you ended up sitting on his lap as you leaned into him and cried. “But I’m here, darling. I’m here and you can cry with me all you need.” 

You had no idea how comforting it could be to cry with someone, you had always done it alone. But Remus was soft and reassuring, whispering calming words into your ears as he continued to brush his hands on you. Over your back, on your head, almost like he did when you were Vixen, but with more purpose now, it wasn’t about making Vixen get the smell of the pack, it wasn’t about making her warm, it was about making you warm. 

He was hugging you consciously,  brushing his hands over your body in an attempt to make you feel solace, and while his touch didn’t have the amnesiac ability the Lethe offered –and that you might have gladly drunk that night– he did offer a comfort like you hadn’t experienced in your life. Crying into Remus’ arms was like crying in a bed of soft, feathery clouds. Like the angels had come down to earth to commiserate you and absolve you of your wrongdoings. 

It was also comforting to know that no matter what, you had someone on your side. You had lost your father that night, you had kiIled your mother and your friend had diеd trying to protect you, even though Barty and Evan helped you escape, you had never felt so immeasurably lonely as you had while you tried to help that small butterfly, or when you had walked towards the castle, your feet on the cold snow feeling number as the minutes passed by. 

And then you ended up with Remus, hugging you and whispering how things would be all right, how Sirius and James had been worried and how happy they had been when he showed them you were all right. That no matter what you did, he wouldn’t leave, that Sirius wouldn’t leave and that your friends would be there for you. That you were part of them, and not even dеath herself could change that. 

You cried in your best friend’s arms until you ran out of tears. You told him in between sobs what had happened, and he had patiently listened to your rambling as he continued to hold you. He would tighten his grip when your breath ran short and your tears grew thick. Only to let it loose and look at your face when you relaxed into him again. He was warm, the cold you had felt initially almost completely forgotten in his embrace. 

“Thank you,” you whispered after a while, after telling him everything that had happened and after realising that, even then, he wouldn’t leave. 

“There’s nothing to thank me for, my love,” he said and dragged you closer to him. If anything, it should be him the one thanking you, for letting yourself be vulnerable in front of him, for trusting him enough to let him hold you and to cry into his arms. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, because holding you so tight shouldn’t make him feel as satisfied as he did, not when the reason he held you was how desperate and sad you were. 

And he felt your anguish, and he felt your pain, but that didn’t stop that small, touch-starved part of him from loving the fact that it was him the one that got to comfort you. That you clung to him for dear life, not to Sirius, not to anyone else.  

It was when your breath finally steadiеd that he realised you had fallen asleep again. He smiled and brought you back onto the bed. Cleaning the remaining salty water from your cheeks as he brushed your hair and accommodated you again. Your eyes were slightly swollen, you certainly looked like you had been crying, but he was sure Sirius would still be worried. 

He called him through the mirror again, he wrote a short note, telling him about you waking up and about being very upset, that you had been the one to cause the Fiendfyre and that you were very tired. That you were finally warmer and that he’d see if it was possible to call him later when you both went back to the castle.  

Sirius was a lot more relaxed now, especially when he saw Remus lying next to you in the bed. You had cuddled against the boy in the same way you cuddled to Sirius sometimes. He thought it was endearing, even if you were hugging someone else. It made him a lot more relaxed to think you weren’t alone, he had been alone many times. And you were with Remus, big strong and calm Remus, everything would be all right. 

By the time you woke up again, there was light filtering through the slab-covered windows. Beams of bright yellow reflected onto the worn-out floors, you looked at it for a minute, enjoying the warmth and almost pushing yourself back against the firm figure behind you. It was comfortable, peaceful, and reassuring, you realised there was an arm around you as well, keeping you close to them and to their warmth. 

You looked at the spores floating in the light beams, dusty, you thought as you stared, it took you a moment to really gather where you were, who you were with and how you’d ended up there. You had slept, you had slept a lot and yet you felt tired. The toll of the previous night, the weight of your now dried tears, still heavy in your mind. 

Did you want to cry again? Did you even deserve to?

What else could you do if not that? 

“You’re awake?” Remus’ groggy voice asked from behind as he brushed a piece of hair off your face, immeasurably soft and tender. 

“I was trying to convince myself it all had been a nightmare,” you replied with a sad, breathy laugh. 

Remus shook his head, “You’re in a better mood, I see.” 

“At least I’m not out there freezing anymore…” There was a bit of silence, and then your brain started working again. 

Wait a minute… how did he find you? 

You turned around hastily, Remus almost pulled back from how close your face was to his now, but he stayed where he was, he didn’t want to push you away by making any harsh movements. 

“How did you… How did you know I needed help?” 

“Sirius,” Remus admitted. You frowned, it still made no sense. Remus looked at you and then down at your neck, he could see the map charm hanging inside the necklace Sirius had given you. He picked it up and carefully rubbed his thumb over the original charm, “I think it has to do with this.” 

You looked at his hands with a frown, the charm looked much smaller in his hands than it did in yours, “The necklace from El Maleficio?” 

“I suppose Sirius never got around to telling you?” You gave him a confused look in response. “He’s got a burn on his hand, the moment he touched it, something happened, the man in the store said it was connected to him now, he assumed it was some sort of bIood magic or something.” You listened to him attentively as he continued, “he had an awful nightmare, he was seeing everything from your point of view.” 

You swallowed, “So… he knows everything…” you said, there was a horrified expression on your face, as if Sirius knowing would be the end of your relationship. 

“He asked me to get you after he saw Barty use the stunning spell,” Remus added. “He was worried.” 

“Worried? Not angry not–” 

Remus shook his head, knowing exactly what you meant. “You couldn’t get rid of us even if you went all Grindelwald, Little Witch.” 

“Merlin, I’d hope you would get rid of me if I went all Grindelwald,” you replied almost instantly. Still, the sentiment was nice, to know that you’d have them on your side, both Remus and Sirius, no matter what. You were lucky to have a boyfriend and a best friend like that. 

“Maybe lock you up in a cage until you reassessed your choices,” Remus joked as he turned to look at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to just stare into your eyes like he had been doing much longer without leaning in to kiss you. Oh, how he craved your lips sometimes. You shoved him lightly on the side and he made a rather exaggerated sound of pain. 

“Drama queen,” you said as you shoved him again. He shook his head and laughed, now you too turned to look at the ceiling. It was as worn as the floor, some of the paint peeling, some of it scratched and broken. You assumed that it had been Moony. 

There was a comfortable silence surrounding the two of you. You were warm as you lay close to him, but more than that, you felt safe. As if, now that you were with Remus, there was no danger, nothing could touch you in the small bubble inside the Shrieking Shack. You weren’t sure you wanted to step out, to face the real world. 

Would there be consequences? Would you be criminally charged? Could they even criminally charge you with all the things you had seen them do? 

“Sirius will probably want to speak to you,” Remus said. “I got him a radio for Christmas, there’s another one in our room, and we also use the mirror to see each other.” 

“You made holoprojectors? Like in Star Wars?” you asked curiously, turning your face to look at Remus’.

“Kind of,” he replied. “It’s not exactly the same, we don’t have holographic projections of each other but–” 

“–I bet you could do it!” you interrupted, “there’s bound to be a way in which you can use magic to make holoprojectors happen… at least until science catches up.” 

Remus knew what you were doing, you were completely avoiding the topic of last night, leaving it in the back of your mind, trying to ignore it. If you didn’t pay attention to it then, it couldn’t have been real. 

He wasn’t sure if he should let you, you had cried so much earlier, and while he loved to be the one to hold you, that didn’t stop the pressure in his chest as he saw you struggle. He didn’t want you to cry because it pained him to see you like that. 

“I assume we could,” he conceded. Perhaps he could let you ignore it for a little longer, for as long as you needed. You probably still had to process all of it. And there was a lot to process. You had told him everything, from the start of the night to the end of it, albeit in between sobs and sniffles, he had a pretty strong picture of all of it, perhaps stronger than Sirius’ who had lived part of it alongside you. 

After all, he had heard your feelings, not just seen what had happened. He knew what Evan and Barty had done for you, which had been perhaps the most surprising thing of the night, the fact that either of them had some sense of debt and that Evan felt he owed you something for not telling the truth to his father, which had just been basic human decency. 

“Do you want to go back to the castle?” he asked. 

“No,” you said honestly and pulled the raggedy covers over your head, they still kind of smelled like Padfoot, Vixen and Moony, that too was comforting. 

“You want some chocolate?” he asked. 

You peeked your head from the covers to look at him, your nose still covered but your eyes wide open and looking straight at him as you nodded. 

“You’re hungry, then?” 

You sighed and nodded. You weren’t sure you were in the mood to eat, but the rumbling in your stomach said otherwise. The toll of magic used the previous night was finally hitting you, and as your body worked to fill you with magic again, the used-up energy showed in the form of hunger, and meat craving. 

That craving had been gone for a while, the longer time you spent with Rem the more it seemed to go away, but today it had come back and it had come back strong. You wondered if it had to do with how much of your magic you had used up, or perhaps it was the moon, or Remus also wanted meat and he was projecting that onto you. 

If he had been the one to scratch you, did it make sense? There was not enough information on werewolves. 

“Then we must go to the castle.” 

You pulled the covers over your face again and dramatically buried your head in his chest. “No, Remus,” you said, voice muffled by his shirt. “Just give me the chocolate.” 

“I have no chocolate.” You dug your hand in his pocket. There was an empty wrapper. “Oi!” he complained as he squirmed to the side. 

Did he really have no chocolate? That was impossible. You didn’t really care much for his complaint and leaned a little closer, resting your elbow on top of him to check the other pocket. There was a folded piece of paper and nothing else. You placed the paper back in the spot and pulled the covers to look at him, still leaning half of your body on his. 

He had that very smug expression on his face that clearly said ‘I told you so’. 

“Are you done manhandling me?” he asked calmly. 

“No,” you said as you tried to lift him up to check his back pocket, but he didn’t budge. 

“There is no chocolate,” he repeated. “I have some in the castle, though.”

“Why do you insist on taking me there?” you asked with a pout, now letting your arms and head lay close to his sternum. 

“Because Pomfrey is there,” he said honestly. “You should get checked.” 

Your face turned cold, emotionless even. The little bubble you had allowed yourself to rest in completely bursting at the thought of going to the infirmary. Of getting checked, because last night had been real, because last night you had almost diеd frozen in the snow and then earlier attacked by Lucius or perhaps tortured by Bellatrix. 

“It’s okay,” Remus said kindly, resisting the urge to place his hand on your head and play with your hair reassuringly, “She won’t ask questions, she’ll just make sure you’re okay.” 

You took a slow controlled breath, your eyes watering as you avoided Remus’s gaze for a second, turning back to look at him as you wet your lips, they were dry and chapped from how much you’d cried. Going out seemed like an immense effort, like stepping back into reality and into the war. You’d have to talk to Dumbledore, or at least to Nightshade, you had to tell them about the dinner and about all the people you’d seen there. You couldn’t be sure if they were all dеatheaters, but they had definitely been accessories to the crimes committed. 

Should you let the papers know? Would they even care?

There were about a million things swinging inside your head and you were aware that you couldn’t just stay cooped up in Remus’ arms and ignore everything completely, but that didn’t make it any less tempting. Perhaps Remus was a lot more like the Lethe than you originally thought, not because he made you forget everything that’s happened, but because his company offered a solace enough to cloud those thoughts out of your mind. 

Ironically, there was nothing more calming than your friend the werewolf. Perhaps he was so calm and collected because he was a werewolf, spending all of his life with the goal of keeping his temper down and maintaining it in check. Like Bruce Banner, who was the calmest of superheroes (when he wasn’t the Hulk).

“Can we eat first and go to Pomfrey later?” 

“No,” Remus said simply. You pouted in response. “Not even with that pretty pout of yours, sweetheart, it is non-negotiable.” 

“But Remus I–” 

“You can have a chocolate first,” he said as he lifted his hips slightly and handed over a small bar of chocolate. 

You gasped as he passed it over to you, “You said there was no chocolate.” 

Remus shrugged in response and broke off a piece of the chocolate in your hands, bringing it to his mouth and plopping it in. You laid your head on his chest again and bit off a piece yourself. You still didn’t want to go, you wanted to stay in the bubble, but bubbles were beautiful because they were ephemeral. 

They were meant to burst and sparkle leaving traces of soapy water on the floor. And that’s exactly what you had to do now. You closed your eyes before standing up. You didn’t feel as sore as you thought you would, but when you stepped down on the floor you couldn’t stop the hiss that erupted from your mouth. Remus threw you a worried glance as he sat up on the bed “What is it?” 

You pulled your feet up to your knee, there were blisters, and peeling skin, like you had been burned. Of course, you had been walking with no shoes. You had gotten badly ice burned. Your knees weren’t much better either. You hadn’t noticed since your dress covered most of them, and the emotional pain had been much worse than the physical one last night but they were also scuffed, a section already getting a scab while the other was just badly bruised. 

Remus leaned over your shoulder to take a better look, “And you wanted to eat first.” 

“I’m still hungry,” you said, trying to distract yourself with Remus’ calming smell instead of thinking about how you’d gotten those. Probably when Bella stunned you and–

“Can you walk?” 

“Of course I can walk,” you responded as you stood up. Did it hurt? Hell-a-fucking-lot. Could you manage? Well, you’d have to.

“Sure?” 

“Very,” you responded, avoiding gritting your teeth against one another completely.

You wished you had your wand, perhaps you could use some pain reliever spell or something. Remus stood up and put on his boots. You handed him his jumper and coat, he returned the latter one to you “Keep it, it’s cold outside.”

In reality, Remus was the last person to want to burst the bubble you’d created. If it was on him, he’d have stayed with you in the Shack ‘til the end of time. He loved how much closer you had veered to him, while during the night it had been for warmth, once awake he knew it was you, purposely laying your head on his chest and digging through his pockets.

He was also happy to see you. Or at least glimpses of you, not that broken, and terrified version of you he’d met the last night. He loved both the same, but there was nothing more heart-wrenching than your sobs and nothing more warming than your laughs, even if they were still slightly strained.  

You put the coat on and the two of you walked towards the door and entered into the hallway. The sprinkle of soapy water falling as you both stepped into the dark. The beautiful, and warm environment instantly switched for the colder and unforgiving passageway you’d have to walk through to get to castle grounds.

Bring me to your house and tell me "Sorry for the mess", hey, I don't mind You're talking in your sleep, out of time Well, you still make sense to me, your mess is mine

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow  @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @msblacklupin @oliversaurus @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod @bugg06 @a-n-1-m-3-f-r-3-4-k @darlingeels @kissmeunicornbaobei @xluansstuff @boo8008 @angelmixer @voteforintensedreams @allons-y-molly @aremuslupinsimp @imaginexred @writingshae @nyanwyn @poetrypirate @crazyhorseforgot @saturnhas82moons @ryeyeyer @mothraantics @maqqiekwon @desikudisworld @pastelorangeskies

Leave a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post (reblogs are extra nice since they help me get my work to more people), also guys, I absolutely love reading your comments, so do throw them my way if you have any!

A/N: I feel like I've had you guys at the edge of your seats for two weeks and now you can finally breath. Gosh, Remus is insanly sweet~ How can I manifest a person like this in my life?

Read more Marauders Fiction

[heyimkana]

24 Hours with You (Satoru Ver.) - Ep. 2

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: The second episode of a mini-series where you’ll live through the hours you spend together with your husband, Gojo Satoru. Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader Genre: Domestic AU, Fluff, Romance, Humor Word Count: 9K Warnings: no plot, just a compilation of fluffy scenes that you share with your whipped, super annoying husband, Satoru. there's a bit of a smutty scene but it's not explicitly written.

Episode 2: Daylight

07.04 AM

The morning sunray seeps through your windows, kissing your skin with familiar warmth. The red roses Satoru bought you yesterday greet you with their sweet scent as they sit prettily in a glass vase that glimmers like crystal underneath the light. You take a quick scan around, expecting the worst but surprisingly, besides the bedroom, your place is still recognizable despite the drunk antics that you and your husband did last night after finishing a whole bottle of wine to yourselves. 

Your work doesn’t start until nine, and although usually, you would leave at 8.15 to avoid the risk of turning up late, after noticing what day it is, you reckon that traffic won’t be so bad. Plus, your home is only around ten minutes away from your office anyway. It’s the main reason why Satoru insisted on buying this condominium in the first place—to give you more time to yourself (and for him to cuddle with you on the sofa because you always look so snuggly in the morning). Maybe you can take it easy today. Brushing your teeth and changing your nightgown into an oversized hoodie (Satoru’s) and a pair of comfy sweatpants, you get yourself to work.

Among the clutters on the floor are your cocktail dress and Satoru’s expensive suit and tie, scattered all over the carpet, giving you a quick flashback of what happened after you arrived home from the fancy restaurant he took you last night. The exchange of heavy, scorching kisses in the elevator… Your spine pressed flat against the wall with his head between your thighs the second the front door was shut close… A bottle of red wine tasted directly from each other’s tongue… And…

You glance down at your hands, feeling heat flaring in your cheeks as your eyes land on the thin, but quite noticeable, purple bruises that circle your wrists like dark bracelets.

Last night was… wild. 

“God, we’re not young anymore,” you mumble to yourself, shamefaced, as you head toward the kitchen. There are empty plates and half-filled glasses left abandoned on the aisle, and a pizza box that you ordered at two in the morning for an emergency snack (Satoru always gets hungry after sex), but it will only take you a few minutes to clean everything up, so everything’s fine.

Today’s start isn’t so bad.

The condo that you and Satoru bought together felt too spacious and grand at first. The neat white walls somehow screamed lonely, desperate for human touch. But after living here for three years, three whole years of a happy marriage with occasional fights that never lasted a night, it felt truly like home—the kind that you’ve never had the joy to experience before. 

Silly Polaroid photos of the two of you are plastered all over the fridge. A collection of your favorite novels sits on the bookcase among healthy pileas that tumble elegantly over the shelves. Satoru’s favorite Hatsune Miku figures are there too, despite your constant begging to just throw them away, but that’s marriage, isn’t it? You just have to compromise on every single thing. Even when the color of Hatsune’s stupid hair—why does it have to be turquoise of all shades?—ruins your aesthetic.

A huge, beautiful mural showcasing the map of the world can be found painted on one side of the wall. In some countries, there are words written by colorful markers, telling a story of the memorable journeys you’ve had together. Satoru’s messy handwriting used to be there but you scrapped them all because drawing a bunch of arrows pointing at different cities and writing down the words “We did it here” or “We also did it here” and “We toooootally did it here” with wink faces on the sidedon’t exactly seem appropriate, especially since Megumi’s son often comes by to visit his favorite uncle. (The word ‘favorite’ here is self-proclaimed. Megumi never said that. His son also never said that. Satoru is just delusional.) 

You catch a whiff of your husband’s perfume, still somewhat lingering close, a sweet reminder of your chaotic days in high school and the moment your romance bloomed during your college days. Oh, also, coffee. You’re gonna need a lot of that if you want to get through all of your work meetings today. The smell of freshly brewed coffee is one of your favorite scents in the world and you smile to yourself as you pour it into your mug. 

“Someone looks happy,” Satoru sniffles as he places his chin on your shoulder, long arms winding themselves around the dip of your waist. And cuddly, he adds in his head. Though he always finds himself swooning seeing you in your cocktail dress or work attire, he adores this look the most. Messy bun, bare face with acne patches on your chin and nose, his hoodie covering your body to the middle of your thighs. You're precious.

He won’t say this to you though, not today.

“Someone sounds a bit grumpy.” You tilt your head just enough to peck him on the cheek. “Took you long enough to finish.”

“Well, it would’ve only taken me ten minutes if somebody was kind enough to lend me a hand.”

“What, your two hands aren’t enough?”

“They don’t feel as good as yours.” He’s pouting. Even if you can’t see it, you can tell he is. “I didn’t finish, by the way. Thank you for asking.”

A chuckle escapes you. “Honey, you finished, like, four times last night.”

“You’re missing the point,” he sighs. “I don’t think I’ve told you this but…” He turns your body around, making you face him with your cup between your hands and your back leaning against the kitchen counter. He’s still in his boxer shorts, you notice, but he’s made the effort of throwing on a green pastel shirt, hanging loose on his body and unbuttoned to his chest. Satoru rests his palms on the surface, trapping you between his arms. “I think I’m getting so dependent on you now that I can’t even cum on my own.” 

“You can’t do anything without me these days, actually,” you comment, running your mouth without realizing that he’s desperate for your sympathy. He gives you a look, staring flatly at you. “And I can’t do anything without you, my love,” you add with a smile, tapping his cheek. “There. Happy now?”

“Wouldn’t kill you to say it once in a while,” he answers, and you roll your eyes. “I’m just saying, I used to do it so easily, you know? I didn’t even need to look at actual porn to jerk off. I was so in control of my body. Just had to picture you naked on your knees with my di—”

“Careful.”

He cuts himself short. “—and I’d be done in, like, two minutes.”

“I see. And here I thought today was going to be boring,” you reply, sarcasm running thick in each word.

“But these days…” His eyes droop. “It hasn’t been that easy. Sometimes I couldn’t even, umm… get it hard,” he admits, blushing. It’s a bit of a confession that he’s been trying to keep to himself for a while.

“What, really? Like, at all?” 

He sheepishly nods. “There’s this one time when you were away on a business trip and it had been so long since we had sex so I wanna… You know…”

“Play with your carrot?” You suggest, taking a sip of your coffee. “Rub the eggplant? Stroke the banana?”

There’s a momentary silence where he just looks at you, unamused. 

You, also, stay hushed. 

Then, “Caress the fresh zucchini—”

“I think that’s enough, babe.”

“Oh, so when I say it, you don’t like it. But when you say it—”

“You’re not saying it at the right time—You know what? Forget it.” Satoru pushes himself away from the counter, fuming and you laugh. 

Catching him by the wrist, you whirl him back to you. “I’m sorry. You’re just so cute. I think this is the first time I’ve seen you act like this.”

“Can you be serious, please? This is actually very important to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You stand on your toes, kissing his pout away. “I’ll pay attention, I promise. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I’m a bit scared,” he says, his shoulders sagging. He looks like a sad puppy. A giant, 193cm tall sad puppy. Even your puppy didn’t look as depressed as him now when she was on the verge of death. “What am I going to do when you’re away for two weeks and I can’t even jerk off once?”

You know you don’t have to jerk off, right? Your mouth is itching to say the words. “Two weeks aren’t even that long.”

“Of course, they are!”

“Okay, so you can’t jerk off for two weeks. What is the big deal—”

“What’s the big deal?!” He gasps, as dramatically as ever, one hand slapped against his chest. “You’re asking me what’s the big deal?! What if this is a sign of early erectile dysfunction?!”

Hereeee we go. “From someone who came four times last night, what are you saying?!”

“Excuse me, are you a doctor?” His voice drops, his face solemn. “Are you an urologist?”

You sigh. “No.”

“Do you have a penis?”

“Satoru—”

“Do you?”

You’re rubbing your head, headaches incoming. “You wouldn’t have married me if I had one now, would you?”

“Not true but okay. Anyway—”

“Wait, hold up, what does that mean—”

“The point is,” he puts pressure on his words, pinching your nose so you’ll stop talking. “No penis, no opinion. Also, multiple studies by Chinese researchers have shown that in order to avoid getting prostate cancer, men should release their sperm around two to four times a week. And—” He holds up a finger in the air, shutting you down before you even begin to open your mouth. “When you orgasm, your brain releases a surge of dopamine, right? I need that, especially when you’re not around to help me manage my stress.”

You press your lips together, as tightly as you can, afraid that you’ll break into another bout of laughter if you don’t. “I see.” It’s so hard to keep your voice away from shaking. He’s so serious, it’s almost out of character for him to be this serious. “So you’re, uhh… You’re stressed, huh?”

“Oh, I am, baby. I’m so stressed out.” He swats his bangs out of his eyes, pushing back his hair. “Look at me. I just woke up and I look like this. You think it’s not stressful to look this handsome every day? I have to work twice as hard as anyone else in my building just to be taken seriously. Especially by the CEO.”

“You mean your daddy.”

“My CEO.”

“Who’s your daddy.” Right after you hear yourself saying the line, you snort, failing to contain your laughter. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I just had a flashback of the time when you said those words to me in bed and—” You wipe a tear away, your body shaking from your titters. “God, that was cringe.”

Satoru narrows his eyes. “So you are laughing at me.”

“Yeah, but not because of the things you’re saying right now.” The more you try to explain, the more he seems insulted. “Sorry. Continue.”

His nose flares. He would’ve been vexed if you didn’t look so adorable holding back your giggles. “All the other workers think I’m not fit to be next in line—to lead the company. They think I get everything I want just because I have a pretty face and I’m his only son.”

Well, I mean, they’re not wrong, you ponder to yourself, though you know if you mention it out loud, he’s going to cry. “They’re jealous of you.”

“And then of course there’s that guy, Kenjaku, who clearly wants to take my place so he’s been trying to get close to my dad,” Satoru clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Can you believe they went golfing together? Gol. Fing. My dad never even let me touch his golf club!”

Oh, he’s ranting. He’s so upset, he’s ranting like a tired housewife and it’s hilarious. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” You spread your arms, offering him a smile. “Do you want a hug?”

“Okay,” he mumbles cutely, moving toward your embrace with his lower lip jutted out. He goes down to his knees, tangles his arms around your waist, and nuzzles his face against your belly. 

“I think they just feel intimidated by you.” You land a hand on his head. For some reason, his hair is always extra fluffy in the morning. “Smart, charismatic, and sexy? They don’t stand a chance against my husband.”

Usually, you would have him go back to his feet (figuratively and literally) right away after hearing such words, but Satoru only lets out a small hum—responding but not quite agreeing—as he buries his nose deeper in your fabric. Seems like this one is serious. “Toru, you’ll be okay.”

“I can’t do it without you, babe,” he says, his voice muffled by your hoodie.

“What, getting that promotion without people judging?”

“No. Cumming.”

“Oh, we’re going back to that.” You chortle lightly, stroking his strands. “Okay, listen.” Cupping his cheek, you lift his face to meet your gaze. “You don’t have erectile dysfunction.” You return the small space between you, your lips curving up beautifully as you bend down and give him a light kiss on his forehead. “And next time, I’ll take care of your needs. Promise.” Noticing how his eyes take a quick look at the kitchen counter, you add, “Not right now, Satoru.” 

“Meanie.” Your husband groans, playfully biting your hand. “And how are you planning to take care of me the next time we’re separated from each other?”

“I’ll do something to help you, uhh… do whatever it is you need to do.”

His eyes light up. “Will you FaceTime me and give me a strip dance with Closer by Nine Inch Nails playing in the background?”

That’s… oddly specific… “And why does it have to be that song, if I may ask?”

“No reason, really…” He averts his gaze. “Just… You know, it makes me think about you…” He seems a bit shy.

Wait. Shy? Satoru is?

How does the song go again?

You tear down my reason  It's your sex I can smell  You make me perfect  Become somebody else  I wanna fuck you like an animal

You send your husband a blank stare. Look at him. This pervert is asking you this while acting like an embarrassed schoolgirl standing in front of her crush. “If it’s not too much to ask,” he says, so cutely as if he was asking you to make him his favorite dish for dinner.

Of course, it’s too much to ask, are you insane? “Or,” you suggest calmly with a forced smile. “We can do slightly more romantic stuff like calling each other on the phone and—”

“DO PHONE SEX?” Stars in his eyes. There are stars in his eyes.

“Uhh…”

“Please say yes, please say yes!”

That isn’t exactly what you have in mind, but can you even decline when he’s like this? Telling him no right now would feel just as awful as when you (because of Satoru, of course) accidentally revealed the truth about Santa to your nephew, giving Megumi a hard time feeding his son who started a hunger strike as he went into depression mode for three days. (This is a horrible comparison, by the way. One child was asking about Santa while this one is asking for the opportunity to whisper “I wanna fuck you like an animal” in your ear when you’re a hundred miles away from home. Two totally different cases, but you know Satoru will behave the same way as your nephew if you reject his wish. Probably even worse.)

With your head throbbing, you murmur, “Maybe just a little…”

“Promise?” He holds up his pinky, grinning from ear to ear.

All that positive energy you had this morning? Drained. “Promise…”

“Yaay~” 

As you break into a cold sweat thinking about the unfortunate event that will soon befall you (aka the phone sex), Satoru, is already back to his giddy and frisky self. Well, as long as he’s happy, I guess. 

“What are you having?” He asks, jumping back to his feet. “Coffee?”

“Mm. You want some?”

“Nah. I’m craving hot chocolate.” He reaches a hand toward the high drawer to get hold of his favorite mug, looming above you and intentionally knocking his chest against your face as he traps you in between. He giggles when you glare. He’s childish that way.

“How very girly of you.”

“It’s to relieve my stress.” He pokes you in the stomach. “Also, liking hot chocolate doesn’t make me look girly.”

“Sure, but trying on my skirt does.”

“Babe, come on,” Satoru whines, his earlobes turning scarlet. “How many times are you going to hold me on this? I was just messing around!”

“Honey, you were alone in our bedroom, wearing my maxi skirt and checking yourself in the mirror.”

“It was a dare from Suguru.”

“And taking selfies.”

“So I can send some proof to Suguru.”

“Not the point, Satoru.”

“That is the point! Babe, can’t you see? Saying no to the stupid dare would’ve made me seem less manly than he is.” 

“So you’d rather put yourself in a skirt?”

“Well, duh!”

You can’t find the logic in his excuse, you really can’t. “In my defense, though,” he adds. “I thought you were gonna be out for a little longer.” 

“What would’ve happened if I were? Gonna put on my thong next?”

“No,” he scoffs, trying to regain whatever amount of dignity he has left. “Also, it’s not like you’ve never done something embarrassing before. Remember that time when we went to Megumi’s birthday dinner and you ended up telling his nana a dick joke?”

“That was also you.” 

“No, no. I meant, that one with the salaryman meeting a guy in a horse costume—” His realization falls upon him. “Oh my God, it was me.”

You shake your head, amused. “It’s okay.” You turn to face the counter once again, placing your mug on the surface before you reach forward to grab a bit more cream.   “After being married to you for three years, the only thing that will surprise me is if you grow another head. Anything else, I can manage.”

“Why does this sound comforting and insulting at the same time?”

“Because it’s both.”

With his lower lip protruding, Satoru hugs you again from behind, his chin settled on the top of your head this time. This is why he claims to be all stressed out whenever you’re away. He’s so keen on physical touch that he can’t bear even a few inches of distance between you when you’re around. He reaches up to open the counter, grabbing a jar filled with cocoa powder. His chest is pressing against your spine, his other arm never leaving your waist. “I think we run out of sugar,” he says. “Wanna drop by the mart after work? I’m gonna have meetings all day today, but I can ditch the dinner party.”

“You’re not coming?”

“Hell no. Suguru’s hosting. He makes the worst parties.”

“Isn’t he the guy who’s rumored to be in love with you? I heard about it from Shoko.”

“Yeah,” Satoru snickers, very childishly. “I was the one who started the rumor by putting a note on his desk that said ‘I wish one day you’ll look at me the way you look at your wife. Your silver hair and pretty blue eyes have captivated me from the moment I laid my eyes on you. I dream of tasting your soft lips every night.’ It was so easy to copy his handwriting, I just couldn’t help it. Yuki found out about it and she started gossiping and by the end of the day, everyone knew. I took the note away before he noticed. Suguru never found out I did that, didn’t even know what was going on. He was so confused when people tried to cheer him up. I saw Choso giving him a pat on his shoulder, saying ‘We all love you for who you are, never change.’ And Suguru was like, ‘Uuuh, thanks, but I don’t want to be a salesman forever.’ And so both of them were confused.”

Your mouth twists into a grimace. “You are evil.”

“I prefer the term genius,” he corrects you, seemingly proud of his deed. 

“Also, soft lips?”

“Aren’t they?” He seductively raises an eyebrow. To be fair, yes, they are. Even on the coldest night, they’re still as soft as a butterfly’s wing. He has claimed many times that he only used a lip balm if necessary but you don’t buy it. There must be witchcraft involved. He puckers his lips, ready to kiss you and make you experience the thick jealousy you have of his pretty mouth—because, really, all these lip balms you have and your lips are still chapped during winter. You dodge, pushing your palm against his face instead. The big puppy that he is, he licks it.

“I think I’ll be out of the office around seven today,” he informs as you scrunch up your nose in disgust, wiping his saliva away.

“Okay. Pick me up first?”

“Like you need to ask,” Satoru smiles, granting a cute kiss on your forehead. He dabs his thumb on the corner of your lips, rubbing off a little bit of sugar from the leftover doughnut that you enjoyed with your coffee. He cleans it off his digit with his tongue, randomly ruffling your hair as he makes his way to the living room. 

“Oh, wait, almost forgot,” he says, retracing his steps.

“Hmm?”

Satoru snatches a jar from the counter—the one that you just used, filled with cream—and puts it in the highest drawer, the closest one to the ceiling. “Just a little payback,” he sniggers. “For giving me blue balls this morning.”

With him being 193 cm tall, he simply needs to stand on his toes for a little bit to reach it, but you? “I think you’re gonna need a ladder.” His teeth flash in an irritating grin. “Enjoy your creamless coffee for the next few weeks, Sweetcheeks—OUCH—BABY, THAT’S MY KNEE!”

“Grab the jar.”

“Fine.” He retrieves it with a grumble, handing it back to you. “But I’m reporting you for domestic abuse.”

You raise your wrist, showing the actual bruises he left on your skin. “I’ll see you at court then.”

“Babeeeeeee~”

***

07.21 AM

“Satoru.”

Your dear husband has been lying down on the couch for the past ten minutes, a head of velvety hair—which somehow still smells pleasantly like your favorite shampoo—resting on your lap. With a pair of round glasses perched on his nose, he turns deaf ears to everything that’s going on, focusing on nothing but moving his thumbs to win the next round of Momotetsu. As his eyebrows wrinkle in deep concentration, Satoru punches the buttons on his Nintendo Switch, glaring at the screen and swearing under his breath.

“Satoru.”

“Wait, babe, I just need to choose this card and—NOOOOOOOO!” He launches himself forward, sitting up with his mouth gaping, his eyes shaking in horror. “Did I just—yep, lost a million yen. Fuck this game. A Martha card?! A fucking Martha card?! Oh, I’m gonna—” He slams his console against the cushion. Repeatedly. He’s 29, and he throws a bigger tantrum than Megumi’s three-year-old son. 

“Watch your blood pressure, Honey.”

“Who even invented this game?! Stupid as shit. Babe, do me a favor and don’t ever let me play—” His phone rings before he can finish. Throwing one glance at his screen, Satoru mutters, “Oh, great. Here we go.”

The name Dumbass Monk is written on his phone. You wonder who it is.

Satoru answers through gritted teeth. “Fuck you, Suguru.”

Ah, yes, of course.

“No, how the fuck should I know that the card was gonna choose me?!” he barks, his voice bouncing off the walls. “I wanted it to choose you—oh fuck off, asshole, you’re broke as hell, you smell like wet socks, and your wife hates you. Wait, what was that?” He suddenly switches his voice, doing his best impersonation of a nosy old lady talking about the latest gossip. “You don’t have a wife? Not even a girlfriend?” He maniacally cackles. “I don’t know, man, I don’t think I’m the loser here. Unlike you, I’ve got a super hot wife who loves me unconditionally.” 

You flip a page of the book you have sitting on your lap. “Only ‘cause you’re rich.”

“And—” Satoru continues yapping on his phone but he makes sure to poke you on your side for your unnecessary comment. “She’s not just hot. She’s a complete package. She smells like daffodils, she makes me breakfast every morning and she looks so fucking gorgeous when she fucks—”

You slap a pillow against his head.

“—feeds me cookies,” Satoru finishes lamely, wincing, one hand raised in the air as a form of surrender before he takes another hit. “No, I’m not gonna pay you, idiot, you won purely by luck!” He then gasps, his jaw dropping low. “Did you just call me a monkey? Oh, that’s it—” 

Satoru is on his feet, shouting, growling, fingers jabbing and clenching as his mouth runs wild. You can somewhat hear the other man’s voice, giving you enough idea of what they’re arguing about although you can’t make out every word. Suguru’s tone is always soft and melodious when he speaks, but his insults are truly on another level. Chuckling to yourself at the strings of expletives that tumble out of their mouths, you watch your husband yell until blood pools on his face, “Fine! Don’t come crying to me when you have erectile dysfunction, which, based on all the non-existent sex you’ve been having, I know you will! Good day!” Suguru is still calling him names when Satoru ends the call with, “I SAID GOOD DAY!”  

You flip another page of the novel you've been trying—and failing due to someone’s endless shouting—to immerse yourself in. “Seems like you two are close.”

“Oh, he can die, I don’t care.” Angrily, he tosses his device away, landing his head back on your lap with the loudest groan he can muster. “Whatever. I’m still a better player than he is.”

“Of course, you are, honey,” you respond, your hand naturally falls back to his hair, caressing it like you’re stroking a cat’s fur. 

It only takes a few seconds before your husband stops shaking in vexation, even looking a bit sleepy from your comforting touches. “Were you talking to me before?”

“Mm. There’s something I wanted to ask you.” Placing a bookmark in between the pages, you close your book and set it down on the coffee table next to you. “About before, when you told me about your co-workers. How did you know that they’ve been thinking about you that way?”

He blinks, not expecting you to return to your previous conversation. “Aaaw, honey, are you worried about me?” From wishing someone to suffer crucially from impotence to wiggling in joy like a thirteen-year-old girl at the slightest sign of affection, your husband really does have an emotional range of a teaspoon.

“Of course, I do. You’re my husband.”

His mouth curves upside-down, his eyes glimmering, “Babeee, that’s so sweeeet.”

Though you're not so sure why he’s so happy when you just stated a fact, you let him be. “So what happened?”

“I heard them chatting when I passed by the smoking room one afternoon. I don’t smoke—you know I quit a long time ago—so I didn’t know they were ganging up on me and talking shit about me behind my back. Isn’t it gross for a bunch of thirty-year-old men to gossip?” His face scrunches up in disgust. He, the same man who spent two hours on the phone talking to the Dumbass Monk about the recently hired secretary, Maki Zenin (who’s apparently so strict and vicious that, in Satoru’s words, “Almost made me cry in fear when I arrived late at my lunch meeting last week.”), actually had the audacity to ask that question.

"What did they say?” You ask him.

“They said if it wasn’t because of my family name, I would’ve never gotten promoted to C-level.”

“But that’s not true!”You catch him off guard with your sudden fervor after spending the last conversation acting so dull. “I’ve seen how much you worked for this! Satoru, you earned that position fair and square!” Your husband might act frivolous almost every hour of the day, but there were times that he missed his sleep trying to come up with a new marketing strategy to promote their upcoming products. There were hours spent with him taking one conference call after another with his clients, even at two in the morning from the comfort of your living room due to the difference in their time zones. He’s the CEO’s son, true, but he worked just as hard, if not more, as everyone else in the company.

The more it sinks into your brain, the more irked you become. “Who said this?” You snap. “Huh? Who talked shit about you behind your back? I want names.”

Satoru lets out a chuckle, his eyes thinning into a line. It’s been a while since he last saw you being this protective of him. It reminds him of the old days in high school when you, despite acknowledging yourself as being his archenemy, were always quick to defend him when someone threw shade at him. “Honey, relax—”

“Was it Naoya? Or was it Toji? It was Toji, wasn’t it? Oh, that bitch—”

“It wasn’t Toji,” Satoru says, holding you by the hand in a futile attempt to calm you down. “Though you could still punch him if you want.”

“Why, did he do something to you?”

“I just hate his face.”

That’s very Satoru behavior of him that you don’t even bother to comment. “Nobody talks shit about my husband. If they think you get things done easy for you, it’s because you’re so smart, you make things look easy.”

He sits up, turning around to face you with warm, round eyes. “You think I’m smart?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re the smartest man I know.” You give him a light punch on his chest. “If I were your dad, I would’ve still given you that promotion, regardless of our relationship. You’re just that good at your job.”

“That’s…” He swallows. “This is the first time you’ve complimented me like this.” It’s a surprise to him, a very pleasant one, causing contentment to fill his heart.

You feel awful once you notice that even though you constantly thought of him this way, you never spoke your appreciation out loud. “Satoru, I’ve always admired you.” You rest your fingers on his knuckles, apologizing. “I know you complain about having to wake up early to go to work every morning, but despite your flippant attitude, you bear a deep sense of responsibility. You always manage to surpass people’s expectations—surpass mine and I already thought highly of you.” You give him a squeeze, smiling more with your eyes than your lips. “You make me proud. Every day you make me proud.” 

Satoru mirrors your expression, a soft blush painting his cheeks as his joy engulfs him whole. He wraps his arms around you, sinking his nose in your hair as he pulls you close. “You’re not throwing compliments at me just to cheer me up, are you?” He whispers and it’s only during times like this that he lets his vulnerability show. Satoru always shines like the brightest star, his eyes brimming with confidence, but there’s still a part of him—part that he conceals from everyone else except you—that needs to be consoled. He’s still a little boy who wishes for a gentle pat on the head and you always give the warmest one.

“I’m not complimenting you, I’m telling the truth. But yes, I am trying to cheer you up.” You return his embrace, your hand sliding up and down his back. “I wouldn’t have said this if you were okay ‘cause I know it’s gonna boost up your ego even more. You’re already annoying the way you are, so…”

He titters. “Can we stick to you being nice to me?”

You echo the noises he made, returning the space between you just wide enough to kiss his cheek. You cup his face with your fingers, your thumb caressing his cheekbone. “I’m sorry people said mean stuff about you… Are you okay?”

“I am now.” His smile is softer than the clouds. He leans close, cutely nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours. “This is why I need you in my life. You act aloof around me but you always think about me more than you think about yourself. You pretend to be ignorant, but you never fail to notice all these efforts I made. You care about me more than anyone else.”

Watching him put your feelings into words makes you feel flustered but you don't deny it. Not when he speaks only the truth. “I can also kick everyone’s butt for you.”

“As someone who has witnessed your heroic tales in high school, yes, you can, one hundred percent.” You feel his smile forming on your skin as he kisses your temple. “But just having you around me right now is enough. And it’s fine. I don’t care what anyone else thinks about me, at least not anymore. As long as you’re proud of me.”

“I am,” you say without missing a beat. “I’m proud of you, Toru.”

He takes away your hand that’s been warming his face, kissing your wrist while he maintains eye contact with you. “That’s all that matters to me.”

Your stomach swirls at the intensity of his gaze, his voice—just above a whisper—bears the same kind of tenderness and affection he portrayed on the day he asked you to marry him. His lips rub against your veins, the softest kiss against the softest skin. Your hand seems tiny in his grip but it’s a perfect fit. Every part of you is when it comes to him. 

“So, uhh…” You clear your throat. “What are you going to do now?”

“I guess I’ll just have to keep doing my best so I can prove them wrong.” His grin returns. “I’ll make my wife feel even prouder of me.”

He replies to your little chuckles with a kiss, light but sweet. Despite your heart wanting more of his touch, of the heat of his lips against your own, you focus on the matter. “Why have you never told me about this before?”

“Because I never cared about it too much,” he replies with a shrug. “Work only feels overwhelming when you’re not around. When you’re with me, no matter how stressful my workplace is, I’ll feel at ease instantly.” He lays his forehead on your shoulder, rubbing his face against the fabric. “So, don’t leave me, okay? If I have to go out of town, I’ll have you hide inside my suitcase so I can carry you around.”

You chortle lightly. “And if I have to go?”

“Well…” He pulls away, his eyes fixated on the shape of your lips as he caresses them with his thumb. He looks back at you, his fingertips resting on your nape, holding you still. You find your breathing stalled as his own fanned your lips. “I guess I’ll just have to convince you to stay.”

And when he kisses you again, you know that he doesn’t mean with his words.

***

07.34 AM

“Bunny!” Satoru calls from the bathroom, his voice reverberating loudly through the hall. “Baby, come over here!”

Standing in your apron with your hands moving to fetch your chopped onions from your kitchen aisle, you try your best to focus on your cooking while answering him at the same time. “For the last time, Satoru, I’m not interested in taking a shower together with you!” You sprinkle some pepper into the dish, wiping your sweat away from your temple with the back of your hand. You take a glance at the digital clock nearby. “Not when we have to leave in an hour!”

“But I’ll let you shape my hair!”

“Not interested!”

“I’ll even let you give me a mohawk!”

“Not intere—oh shit—” It’s a given, really, that you’d accidentally pour too much salt into your cream soup from all this diversion. Taking a deep breath, you start to glare at your ceiling as you chant don’t get angry, don’t get angry inside your head. This is the reason why you try to keep him off the kitchen floor as far away as possible whenever you’re making food but even when he’s meters away from you, he still manages to annoy you somehow. 

“Babe, I couldn’t hear you. Was that a yes?”

“NO!”

***

07.41 AM

“Oooh~ Something smells good~” Satoru chirps, popping back into the living room with a toothy grin and a white towel wrapped around his hips. It’s hanging low on his body, showcasing very distracting V-lines that you (secretly) adore. You look away. No good can come from staring at your husband’s lean, perfectly shaped stomach at this time of the day. 

But then you catch a glimpse of the scratch marks you left on his back from last night, your face aflame since you can barely remember how hard you dug your nails into his skin. Satoru always likes it when you’re not careful with him—just like how you love it when he’s rough with you—but were you really that… desperate to keep him close, clutching onto him like that?

You shake your thoughts away. “Dry your hair properly,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the plates you’re currently setting on the dining table. “I just mopped the floor.”

“Okay, Mom.” Dabbing a smaller towel against his hair, Satoru walks closer to your spot and pulls back a chair.

You eye him cautiously. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a seat, what do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re not gonna wear your clothes first?”

“Do I have to?” He takes a sip of your half-finished coffee, smacking his lips before he throws a naughty grin. “I mean, I fucked you right here last night. Surely you won’t mind eating breakfast with me only in my towel?” Before you can say a word—and you have lots to say—Satoru adds, “I’m just giving you a chance to ogle at my body as much as you want as you enjoy your food. I know you’re too embarrassed to ask, so you’re welcome. And if you’re willing to take a day off, I can be your dessert too.” 

You make a face. “Gross.” 

“And yet, you don’t deny the fact that you’re planning to stare.” Peering into your eyes, he places his chin on his hand, resting his elbow on the table. The haughty look he displays on his face is supposed to irritate you, but what it does is make your heart pound harder. “You’ve seen and touched these babies for years, and you still can’t get enough? Babe, come on.”

“You seriously calling your abs your babies?”

“Yep.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “But if you play nice, I’ll let you call them—”

“Just eat your breakfast.”

***

07.46 AM

“Babe?”

“What?”

“I have something to say but promise me you won’t kill me after I said it.”

“Okay…” You look up from your plate, feeling a bit concerned. “What is it?”

Satoru has never looked this serious in his entire life (because face it, Satoru and the word serious don’t really belong together now, do they?). 

Taking hold of your hand, he gently squeezes it, providing the comfort that you might need.

“This soup is salty as hell.”

***

07.58 AM

With the taste of salt still lingering thickly on his tongue (and a bump on his head, a masterpiece done by your fist), Satoru steps inside the bedroom with a yawn, his fingers scratching his undercut. He unwraps the towel from his waist, tossing it onto the sheets without care.

Your husband smiles the second he notices the way you’ve prepared his clothes so neatly on the desk, all the way from his tie, his belt even down to his socks. His dress pants are ironed to a crisp seam, and his phone is fully charged (after being married to him for three years, you’ve learned all of his little habits). You’ve selected a matching dark tie to go with his suit, one that he recalled was given to him as a gift during last year’s anniversary. He loves it. He loves how you always buy the things he needs instead of what he wants, even when he, himself, didn’t realize how essential they were. But what makes him the happiest is when he sees the way it makes you smile so warmly every time he wears it, like a painter landing a final stroke on her masterpiece. For someone who doesn’t speak romantic words so often, your little gesture never fails to portray what’s on your mind. You love him and it shows. 

“I’m being spoiled, huh?” Satoru mumbles to himself, nothing but elation in his chest. He spots the little notes you left him on the same table, your handwriting scribbled on a piece of paper. “Ooooh~ A love note?”

Dear husband, If you leave your wet towel on the bed again  I’ll kill you.

“Not a love note.” Wincing, he immediately retrieves the towel from the bed, his mind playing a traumatic flashback of you scolding him about it for two hours straight (because suddenly it wasn’t just about the wet towel, was it? The forgotten toilet seat. The countless jackets hanging on the coat rack because he kept grabbing a new one. The pile of hentai doujinshi piling up on the coffee table. All of them.)

With the thought of skipping today’s work lingering in his head, Satoru forces himself to dress. As he turns around to face the mirror, he captures a brief look at the kiss marks blooming on his neck, ones that you painted on him last night. They’re faint because, unlike someone in this condo, you make sure to always be considerate of his appearance (though Satoru wishes you weren’t), but even the lightest shade of red seems vibrant on his fair skin. 

Although he acts nonchalant most of the time, your husband is quite the possessive type, so it’s a given that he likes the idea of having his marks on you. He gets a kick out of watching you struggle to hide the love bites he left on your neck, even more so when someone notices it. But, of course, nothing beats the feeling of having your marks on him. If you allowed him to, he would’ve worn every bite and bruise like a medal. Proudly. Contentedly. The same way he exhibited every present you’ve given him. Satoru just loves the idea of having a wife—of having you as his wife—and he would showcase that to the world in every second of his life if he could. 

He traces the bruises with his fingertips, drowning himself in the thoughts of you gasping against his ear, your teeth grinding against his neck as he pushed your knees further against your stomach with every thrust of his hips. He wasn’t lying when he said you looked absolutely gorgeous during sex. The way you parted your lips. The way your eyebrows stitched together in pleasure. The little noises you made when you breathed out his name as you bounced on his lap—

Satoru looks down. There it is again, the ache between his legs. Funny how you’re already so distracting even without doing anything—or being in the same room for that matter. Sighing, he grouses, “Guess she’s right. No signs of erectile dysfunction.” Willing his indecent thoughts to go away, he tucks his hands into the sleeves, buttoning up his shirt before he circles his tie around his neck.

“Satoru!” He hears your voice resonating from the bathroom. “Toru, can you come here for a sec? I need your help!”

“Oh, now she’s calling me to have sex with her.” He rolls his eyes. “After I finish taking a shower. So much for playing hard to get,” he scoffs. It’s ironic that he says this because right now he’s the one who’sacting that way. With giddy hands, he unfastens his tie, rushing to take off his pants again and almost tripping on his way out. He dashes toward the bathroom, opening the door while he strives to keep his excitement in check.

“WHOA!” You yelp in surprise, your body nude and drenched, hiding behind the door with only your head peeking out. “Why are you naked?!”

He frowns, confused. “Cause we’re about to have sex?”

Now you’re confused. “Uhh, no?”

“Why did you call me then?”

“I forgot my towel.”

“You’re asking me to get you your towel?” He sounds so appalled as if that thought never occurred to him when it’s supposed to be the first thing that should pop out in his head. Before you can respond, however, his mind, delusional as always, answers the question for him. “Oh, I see,” he smirks. “You’re using codes.”

“What?”

“‘I forgot my towel’—isn’t that, like, our code for ‘let’s have sex in the shower?’”

“Satoru.” You hold yourself back from ripping the silver strands out of his head. He’s testing your patience. Again. “We don't have any secret code.”

“We don’t?”

“Nope.”

“Oh…” It almost feels a bit cartoonish the way his shoulders sag upon hearing your words. There he is, a 29-year-old male standing in front of you in all his naked glory, saddened to his core over the fact of not having a cipher for sex. Well, for three seconds anyway. “So… You wanna make this our secret code, effective immediately, or—”

“Get the damn towel.”

With a stomp, Satoru leaves the bathroom only to return with your towel in one hand and his eyes squinting in a glare. Being the brat that he is, instead of handing it directly to you, he lets the thick cloth fall to the floor just a few inches away from where you’re standing. 

“Oh, you’re so annoying.”

“Isn’t that your secret code for saying you love me?”

You throw a jab to his stomach.

***

08.24 AM

Pushing your hair out of your coat, you call out your husband’s name. You examine your appearance one more time in the mirror, tidying your strands until they frame your face perfectly. The condo is fairly clean. Your stomach is full though you can’t seem to wash away the saltiness of your soup just yet. You’re only seven minutes late from your original plan, which isn’t bad. You’re all set. 

“Toru, you’re ready to go?”

Your husband is still yawning when he meets you in the foyer, carrying his handbag with his shoulders sagging forward. He’s dressed sharply in a white button-up shirt, combined with a black suit that accentuates the broadness of his shoulders. He looks handsome. He always does.

“Well, well, well, hello, Mr. CMO,” you snicker, pulling him by the tie while seductively batting your eyelashes at him. “Do you have time to spare? I would like to have a private meeting with you.”

He’s so tired, he doesn’t have the strength to keep up with your flirting, which says something since it’s usually the other way around. He spreads his arms wide open, his pout turning more prominent by the second. “Come here.”

“What?”

“I need my twenty-second hug.”

So, apparently, Satoru believes in this theory he found recently on the internet that said when you hug someone for, at least, twenty seconds, your body begins secreting the hormone oxytocin which is known to boost the immune system and reduce stress. He said that but you know that he’s just doing it so he can squeeze your ass, and that’s a fact, not a theory.

“Fine, but don’t grope my ass.”

“As long as you don’t grope mine.”

“I literally never did that.” You bury your face in his chest, tangling your arm around his waist. Satoru’s warmth is really one of a kind, or maybe he’s just as warm as a normal human being and you’re just too intoxicated by his scent that you stop making sense. No matter what the reason is, it’s comforting to be in his arms and if he doesn’t make a big deal out of it every time (acting like you’re the one who desperately wants to embrace him), you’d probably spend hours of your day just hugging him like this.

He buries his nose in your strands. “Your hair smells different.”

“I used your shampoo.”

“Yeah? That’s hot.”

You close your eyes, basking in his warmth and enjoying the smell of his perfume. He’s wearing a different brand today, just for a change, and although it’s not as sweet as his other one, this somehow feels much more comforting. Soft and fresh, reminding you less of summer and more of spring this time. “You smell different.”

“I used your perfume. And your bra.”

You’re not sure if you’re laughing over his terrible joke or his deadpan delivery, maybe a bit of both. Nuzzling your face against his chest, you titter, “Yeah? That’s hot.” 

And he’s not sure if he’s smiling over your reply or the way you just sounded so cute giggling like that—no, definitely both. He tightens his arms around your shoulders, squeezing your body against him until you start pounding your fist against his chest, begging for a time-out before he steals all the air in your lungs. “I think we should just skip work today,” he mutters as he releases you. “We can watch a wildlife documentary and count on how many times Benedict Cumberbatch mispronounced the word “Penguin” as ‘Pengwings.’”

“That sounds productive. If you want Maki to kill you.”

He shudders in fear, pulling you back to him. “Just for that, I’m gonna need another twenty.”

Though you feel the urge the roll your eyes, you let him tug you back into his arms and rest his chin on your head. After all, he’s your personal teddy bear. You can spend your eternity just sinking into his embrace like this.

“Satoru?”

“Hmm?”

“Your hands are on my ass.”

“Yeah, but I’m not groping them.”

“You are now.”

“Well now that you mentioned it, I just have to, don’t I?”

You break away, giving a playful slap on the chest. “Enough, we’re running late.”

“Where do you find the energy to go to work every morning?” He asks with weariness in his eyes. “I am this close to throwing myself back to the bed.”

Funny how literally an hour ago, he promised you that he’d work harder to make you feel even prouder of him. “Well, I guess, it all started when I turned into a fully grown woman.” You smiled at him, fixing his tie before you dealt with his collar. He might be the youngest person to enter C-level in his company, but he still dresses as clumsily as a five-year-old if it wasn’t for you to keep his appearance in check all the time.

“I’m a fully grown man too and I still wish I could lay around all day,” he sulks.

“You’re a man-child.” Tugging on his tie, you pull him down until your lips meet his in a chaste kiss. “But I love you. Body, mind, and soul.” You beam at him with your widest grin. “How’s that for your energy booster, Gojo-san?”

To your surprise, Satoru answers you by tossing his handbag to the side and dipping his head down once more to re-attach your lips together. He kisses you with the same fervor he had last night, tongue sneaking inside to taste the minty scent of your toothpaste. You gasp against his mouth, fingers fisting the fabric of his suit as you struggle to maintain your balance. Can’t help but take a couple of steps back from how hard he’s kissing you, you stop only when your spine meets the wall. “Satoru—” You attempt to push him away by placing your hand on his chest but he clamps his fingers around your wrist, bringing it over your head.

With his body pressed against yours, you wonder if he can feel your palpitating heartbeat beating against his own. There’s no stopping him when he gets this aggressive with his kiss and it’s not like you can find any willpower within you to stop him. Fortunately for you, he breaks away, wetting his bottom lip once as his eyes still glaze over your bruised ones.

“Spirits lifted,” he smiles against your lips, sending blood to pool in your cheeks. “Thanks, babe.”

When he lets you go, you find it almost impossible to stay composed. Three years… Three damn years you’ve been married to him and he still knows how to make your knees buckle with a single kiss.

“Babe?”

You push yourself away from the wall, your fingers tangled in your hair when you try to fix it. “W-what?”

Putting on his sunglasses, he casts a smirk, “You might want to fix your lipstick.”

“Oh, I hate you.”

He pecks your cheek. “I love you too, baby girl.”

***

08.32 AM

Despite you being the better driver—better as in I’m not gonna try and bribe an officer with a brand new iPhone whenever I get pulled over or threaten him with my family name when things don’t work out my way—Satoru always insists on having his hands on the steering wheel every time you’re with him. “A gentleman wouldn’t let his lady drive, especially when she looks this pretty in that skirt,” he always says, and yes, maybe this is his gentleman sidetalking—even when the said gentleman had put on the same skirt and caressed his own butt in front of the mirror a few days back. But honestly? You know this is just a part of his master plan to control the music playlist for the next ten to fifteen minutes.

“We’re not listening to Hatsune Miku again,” you say, putting on your seatbelt. 

“Oh, we totally are,” Satoru cackles, his fingers sliding up and down the touchscreen. He has seventeen different playlists consisting of more than a hundred songs in total, all taken from his favorite albums. Which is not much, really, considering Hatsune Miku is featured in around two thousand songs by now (a fact that you, honest to God, don’t care but he keeps reminding you of).

“Satoru, if you play one more Hatsune Miku song, I swear I won't put out tonight.”

“Well, if I have to listen to cookbook again—”

“Jungkook.”

“If I have to listen to cookbook one more time then I won’t put out tonight.”

“That's fine with me,” you shrug.

“Fuck,” he clicks his tongue, desperately jumping to the next option. “Okay, uhh… Oh, I know! You’re not getting my credit card ever again.”

You have one finger hovering above the screen. “So which Hatsune album are we listening to today?”

He sends you a dead stare. “Do you only love me for my money?”

“Oh, honey…” You rest your palm gently on his face, cupping and stroking his cheek. “Of course, I do.” You give him a tap that goes a little too hard than you intended but then again, he kind of deserves it. “Now, drive.” 

Satoru doesn’t even have the energy to come up with a retort. Exhaling in defeat, he kicks in the gear while you, with your face crumpled in repulsion, try to pick the least insufferable Hatsune Miku song. Unfortunately for you, Satoru catches a title that steals his attention.

“OOOH go back, go back! I want to listen to that one!”

You sigh, selecting his song choice. “It’s too early to listen to—” Beaming with joy and oblivious to the hatred you have for that one song, Satoru sweeps in and cranks up the volume until you feel your ears ringing from the inside. 

“Oh my God—” You flinch. If his loud nagging didn’t bust your eardrum, this definitely will. “Does it have to be this loud?!”

“Of course, my goddess is singing!” He shouts, grinning from ear to ear. He starts singing along, just as loudly, if not more. At this point, you swear there are people jogging on the sidetracks looking at your car with their faces contorting into frowns. 

 “I’m the number one princess in the world, so that's how you'll treat me,” he sings, slamming his hands against the wheel, head bobbing to the beat. “Oh my God, this is the soundtrack of my life!”

Still scowling, you have no choice but to listen further to the lyrics.

It's not like I'm acting selfish, I'm not asking for much  I just want you to think from the bottom of your heart that I'm adorable I'm the number one princess in the world  Notice me! Hey! Heeey!  Keeping me waiting is out of the question  Just who do you think I am?  Whatever, I think I could go for some dessert!  Yes, right now!

You grimace. “It really is.”

***

10.54 AM 

11.45 AM 

01.10 PM 

01.29 PM

02.05 PM 

02.29 PM 

03.22 PM 

04.02 PM

05.28 PM

06.11 PM

07.06 PM 

***

AN: Thank you so much for reading! I'm so sorry for the amount of cringe that you had to suffer through while you were reading this 😭

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Cracking of a Cold Heart

Summary: "Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and oftentimes we call a man cold when he is only sad." – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Pairings: Dean x Reader (Reader's 1st person POV)

Warnings: None. Angst. Fluff.

Word Count: 2,804

A/N: So, while watching an episode of Criminal Minds the other day, the above quote by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was at the opening of the episode and it just struck me as very Dean. 😢 So, I had to write him something. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

“You're still awake?”

I asked the obvious question as I walked into the kitchen to see Dean sitting at the table, slowly swirling amber liquid inside a crystal glass.

He nodded. “Yep. You too.” 

“Yeah, I just came to get some water; it's so dry in this bunker, don't you think?”

Dean just grunted. 

“Maybe we could add some humidifiers, or something.” I said awkwardly.

A shrug was my only answer.

Dean's rough, coldness still made me nervous around him sometimes, especially when he was in an overly grumpy or frosty mood like this. Even though we'd been working together for a year and roommates for at least half that time, I always felt like I just annoyed the hell out of him.

I decided I should just go and leave him alone with his whiskey. I poured my glass of water quickly and nodded towards him as I left.

“K, goodnight.”

“Yeah, night.”

I went back to my bedroom, just down the hall from Dean's, and sighed as I walked through the door. I really wanted things to be different. I wanted to make him like me.

Actually, what I really wanted was to make him love me.

But I'd settle for getting more than grunts and one word answers from him most of the time. 

He’d always been gruff with me, never seemed to want me around. It was always Sam that let me know about hunts and invited me along. And every time I joined them, Sam had to fight his brother to let me leave the car when they got out to fight the bad guys.

He clearly thought I was a shitty hunter too. 

So, he'd surprised me with how quickly he'd agreed to let me stay at the bunker when I told the boys about a demon I was dealing with that seemed particularly fixated on me. Sam convinced me it was safest there and Dean had agreed, though he was scowling the whole time. I couldn't help but think he only let me stay cause he didn't want me to die.

Not wanting me to die wasn't exactly friendship, but I supposed it was better than not caring one way or the other. So, I'd agreed to move in. The demon had been taken care of quickly with the boys help, but I stayed on.

I liked it there, and despite Dean's usual attitude towards me, I was happy in the bunker. Sam and Dean were funny and their dark, sarcastic humor, especially Dean's, often made me laugh in situations that would otherwise demand only horror.

It was also the safest I'd ever felt. 

Because no matter how he felt about me, I knew beyond a doubt that Dean would always have my back and look out for me. That was just the kinda guy he was.

If only I could actually make him want me around.

An idea dawned on me as I climbed back into bed. Maybe that was why Dean wasn't warming up to me. Maybe he felt like I was overstaying my welcome there. It made sense; they'd invited me to stay while I was in danger, and then I just never left.

I was embarrassed that I hadn’t thought of it earlier. I would talk to the boys in the morning, I decided, and then fell into a restless sleep, thinking about where I'd end up when I left.

The next morning I walked into the kitchen to see Dean sitting at the table in the exact same spot as the night before, his whiskey replaced with a cup of coffee. 

“Morning.” I said shyly.

“Mmm.” Dean said around his cup as he took a sip. 

I started to get things together to make my breakfast, looking over my shoulder. “I'm making oatmeal, did you want some?”

Dean shook his head. “N’ah. M’good.” He mumbled in his deep, craggy voice, staring at the table. 

“Okay.” I said, sighing at his usual taciturn answer.

I put the water on to boil, salting it slightly, and then turned back to him just as he stood up and walked towards me. He drained his cup along the way and then reached past me to put it in the sink.

I made the mistake of taking a deep breath as he leaned close and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. God, why did he always have to smell so good? Why did he have to radiate warmth from his big, broad, flannel-covered chest, so that I desperately wanted to cuddle into him. 

Completely unaffected, Dean turned to leave, but I put my hand out, touching his arm to stop him from going. I could feel an almost imperceptible flinch from him and I pulled my hand back, embarrassed that he was literally recoiling from my touch.

“Sorry.” I said as my cheeks got pink. “I was wanting to talk to you and Sam. Do you know when-” 

Just then we could hear the screech of the bunker door as Sam returned from his morning run.

“Perfect timing.” I said with an awkward chuckle.

I left the kitchen, glad that Dean followed so I could talk to them both at once. We met Sam at the bottom of the stairs. He pulled out his ear bud, still breathing deeply. 

“Hey.” He said with a small smile. He looked back and forth between me and Dean. “What's up?”

“Oh nothing, really.” I said, waving away the conversation's importance. “I just wanted to talk to you guys. I've…well, I was thinking about it and I realized, I mean now that there's no demon tracking me, no one threatening me, I should probably move out. You know?”

Sam scowled and shook his head. “We're hunters, we're always under threat. This is still the safest place for you. Why would you leave?”

I shrugged. “Well, I mean, I've been here a long time.” Sam scoffed at that, but I continued. “And I don't wanna…you know. I just think I should get out of your hair.”

“Don't be stupid. You're not in our hair. You should stay. Right, Dean?” He asked his older brother.

I looked back at Dean and he didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at the ground. Then he shrugged and looked up. His face was the same cold, indifferent mask I'd seen him wear so many times before. 

“If she wants to go, can't stop her.”

I smiled thinly, a small pinch of hurt starting in my chest. 

“Yep,” I said in a cheerful tone. “Can't stop me.”

Sam started to speak, but I waved him away. “No. Seriously, I should get my own place. But I really appreciate you guys letting me crash here for so long.”

I stood on tiptoe to give Sam a kiss on the cheek and then tossed Dean a smile which was all I could manage before taking off, heading back to my bedroom so I could start looking for a new place to live.

About an hour later, as I was on my computer looking at apartments, there was a light knock on my door.

“Come in!” I called, expecting Sam's tall frame to walk through. Instead the door swung open and Dean was there. 

I was shocked and I set my laptop down beside me on the bed, sitting up straight. Not once in the six months I'd lived there, had Dean knocked on my door; nor had he ever sought me out for anything.

“Hi.” I said lamely.

He nodded at me as he walked slowly into the room. 

We were quiet for a moment before I cleared my throat. “Do you need something?”

Dean pushed out his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging his broad shoulders.

“I, uh…I wanted to…Sam said that he thought you were…” He rolled up onto the balls of his feet a couple of times as he paused.

I raised a quizzical eyebrow and Dean scowled, pulling his hands out of his pockets so he could cross his arms over his chest. The flannel pulled tight across his shoulders and biceps, thoroughly distracting me. 

But then he spoke roughly and brought my attention back to him.

“Sammy thinks you're just leaving cause of me, so I need you to tell him it's not true.”

I wasn't surprised that Sam had read me so well, he wasn't easily fooled and I often thought he might know about my unrequited feelings for Dean. 

But I shook my head. “No, of course not. It's not you. It's just time.”

Dean nodded and looked away. “K well, tell my dipshit little brother that will you, so he gets off my back?”

He sounded angry and for some reason his anger annoyed me. I was moving out, leaving, just so that he’d be happy, and he still wasn’t. 

“Sure.” I attempted a teasing tone, but it didn’t really work. “I'll get right on it. Right after I find a new place to live.”

Dean scowled at me again, but this time I scowled back. 

Something seemed to occur to Dean and though his voice was rough, he sounded slightly shocked when he spoke. “You are leaving because of me. Why?”

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck like that. “Oh, I don't know Dean. I can't imagine why I'd think you don't want me around when you're always so warm and welcoming. Always so eager to chat and hangout. I must just be crazy!”

Dean's frown etched deeper on his brow. “So you're leaving cause I'm not acting like your bestie? I'm not friendly enough for you?”

“I’m leaving because you hate me and obviously don’t want me around!” I shouted.

Silence rang out and my embarrassment filled it. I stood up from my bed and brushed past him, calling back to him as I left.

“Look, don't worry about it. I'll tell Sam it's not your fault so he leaves you alone.”

I left quickly, but I wasn't sure where to go. I couldn't stay in my bedroom with Dean there, but I didn't want to run into Sam either. So I ended up hiding in the gym, hoping neither of them would find me there.

But that plan didn't work very well, since minutes later Dean strode through the door. I growled slightly in frustration. All I wanted was to avoid further confrontation about this.

My voice was quiet, trying to discourage any more conversation. “Look, let's just leave it alone, okay? It's fine.”

“No it's not.” Dean responded.

I let out a little huff. “I’ll be gone in a few days, and everything can just go back to normal for you guys.”

Dean stared at me. “No it won’t. I don't want you to go.”

I scoffed and stood up from the bench. “Dean, enough. I told you it's fine. I'll make sure Sam doesn't blame you.”

I walked towards the door, aware I was going to have to get past him to leave. I gave him a wide berth but he sidestepped to intercept me. 

“I don't want you to go.” He repeated quietly.

“Yeah, okay.” I said sarcastically. “If you say-” 

In a blink Dean grabbed hold of my upper arms and yanked me forward so that I stumbled into him, gasping. His mouth crashed down on mine and I squealed in surprise.

He kissed me hard and quick, stroking up into the roof of my mouth with his wide tongue and then ripping himself away from me.

He was breathing hard as he stared down at me and spoke in a rough whisper. 

“I don't want you to go.”

I just blinked at him, confusion overwhelming me. “What…what are you…what?”

“I don't want you to go.” He repeated for the fourth time. “But you should go. You should run long and far and never look back.” His voice sounded desperate.

I was so confused. “What are you talking about?”

He cupped my cheeks and kissed me again slowly, sweetly. I started to comprehend what was actually going on and I felt like my mind was going to explode. He left me reeling, my whole world turning upside down in disbelief as he pulled away from my lips to bury his face in my neck and kiss his words into my skin. 

“God, Sweetheart, all I dream about is you; you're all I see when I close my eyes. But you can't stay; you can't love me back.”

I listened to his words as I dropped my head back so he had better access to all the sensitive spots on my neck.

“…you can't love me back…”

My voice was breathless and bemused as I spoke. “But you don’t love me…you can't love me…you don't even like me.”

Dean pulled back to look me in the eye and I was shocked to see that his eyes were slightly glassy. I shook my head again, though I didn't know why I was trying so hard to deny his words when they were what I'd wanted to hear for so long. 

But I continued. “No, it’s not possible.” I said. “You don't like me. You're always angry at me, cold and distant. You think I'm a shitty hunter; I'm a burden and liability to have with you on cases.” 

I was shaking my head. “You leave me in the car!”

Dean closed his eyes and spoke quietly. “I leave you in the car because when you're with us I'm completely distracted trying to make sure nothing happens to you; I can't  do my job properly. And I'm cold and distant with you because…”

He opened his eyes slowly. “Because I know I can't have you.”

For the first time since I'd known him, I could easily read the emotion swirling in his deep, forest green eyes. And what I saw was just immense sadness.

He shook his head. “I can't have you.”

“What do you mean, you ‘can’t have me’? Says who?” I asked croakily, my throat constricted.

His jaw clenched and he looked away from me, over my shoulder. “Every single person that's been ripped out of my life since I was four years old. And the list is long, so very long. They're all telling me over and over that loving you is a selfish, impossible daydream. They're screaming at me from the grave, reminding me that trying to hold on to you is going to get you killed.” 

He was staring past me as though he could actually see the ghosts that haunted him, could hear their words of warning.

“You know,” I said with a sniffle as my eyes and nose started watering, “I think that might be the most you've ever said to me at one time.”

Dean let out a puff of air that wasn't quite a laugh, and he shook his head again. “I don't want you to go, but you should go.”

I swallowed several times, the tears still flowing as I realized that all of this was really happening. 

He loved me. Truly. 

Finally I dashed away my tears and sniffled again. “Not a chance, Dean Winchester. You say you love me? Well, great, cause I love you too.” 

He pulled in a stuttered breath and I could see the fear in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again and I took the chance to steal a kiss, pressing close to him and winding my arms around his neck. 

He let out what I hoped was a groan of capitulation and wrapped his arms around my ribs, squeezing me to him tightly and deepening the kiss. His tongue swept through my mouth, exploring every inch, pulling soft moans from the back of my throat as I raked my nails through his hair and he shuddered against me.

After kissing me senseless for several minutes, he broke it off so we could both suck air into our starving lungs. He rested his forehead against mine and I could still hear the sadness in his voice and it made my heart ache. 

“If you stay here with me, you can’t ever leave. Okay? Promise me if you stay, if we love each other out loud, promise me it'll be okay. That I won’t have to live without you, that you’ll always be safe.”

He touched my lips briefly with his, and then spoke against them, whispering. “I couldn’t take it. So promise. Even if it's a lie. Promise me anyway.”

“I promise.” I told him with my whole heart, and sealed it with a kiss.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 * @alwaystiredandconfused @jzackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly * @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya * @arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry @ladysparkles78 @kr804573

* @whimsyfinny * Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world @aylacavebear * Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 * @waywardcheshire @libby99hb * Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 * @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester * @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2 @fanfic-n-tabulous